I had this thought recently: “I could easily beat up T. S. Eliot. He was sort of an effete, elitist, fragile weenie”.
I actually meant it.
So… I’m building off a very similar post I built late last week.
I’m a socially awkward person, and this blog helps me. I almost lost it. but, I was okay. I am somehow still connected to all of you. And, I’m a better man for it.
And, I’m grateful for so much in my life. Especially for the events surrounding, and relative to last Monday night. Only God knows.
Meanwhile, my brother Greg recently reminded me there exists a certain poem.
Have you ever read the The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock? It’s a classic and wildly complicated poem – a meditation on aging and the aching disappointment of being human (especially male and human) – by T. S. Eliot, arguably the greatest literary observer of the first half of the (or maybe of the whole) 20th Century.
I don’t particularly have an issue with being fifty (50). I do have an issue with the human race, apparently.
I am familiar with the poem. And, it’s quite a bit about being authentic, or living the authentic life, says, or interprets, I.
Isn’t there something in it relevant to Kipling?
All men, and the women whom love them, should go find that book. Do it!
I do have many regrets. But, I’m not ready to be weary. I understand the messaging around decay, but I take that more along the lines of the moral, as opposed to temporal. There is no sense of emasculation or sexual frustration. And, I’m convinced my own immortality will have me long thumping my chest at the redoubtable Mr. Eliot (thusly, I never have an issue with speaking my mind). I’m also skeptical of anything that speaks to multiple personalities. I am who I am. And, I’m simply a dark-minded man with a willingness, if not a penchant, to put on the air of bravado.
I like the way the poem is formed though. If memory serves there are references to other literary targets (Dante, Pope Boniface VIII, Ulysses, to name just a few of the more interesting). So, if nothing else, it’s fun by association.
Go read it. Do it! Will the mermaids sing to you?
Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
brian patrick cork