"Over the low roofs and jagged chimney stacks of the houses rose the black masts of ships. Wreaths of white mist clung like ghostly sails to the yards."
- Oscar Wilde, from the book The Picture of Dorian Gray
WOW! I've read these two lines so many times in the last week I've memorized them like song lyrics. Shoutout to Yudy, my lil' sister from Columbia, we went through boot camp together and she told me about this book I should read. She didn't remember the title or author, only the plot, and it really interested me. Going through the base library............which by the way doesn't even deserve to be called a library, it's more like a shelf warehouse that happens to have 13 random scattered books apparently for the sole purpose of holding the shelves steady............and by chance I came across this book, read the back and immediately checked it out. Wilde's style was hard to get into at first, so deep into british high society and all the effeminate males*, but the prose is amazing. And the story ended up being great too. The detriment to the soul a lifetime of a man giving into his own darkest pleasures and passions and seeking new ones for the sake of corruption itself, the dehumanization of making beauty your golden calf............hell, it'd be the great american novel if it was american. When I was done I wanted to read every single one of Wilde's novels. And I would have, if he had written any more after this one. Apparently he was a famous playwright or something, not a novelist. WHO KNEW?!! Hey, don't look down your noses at me, with your fancy english degrees and Ikea english degree holders made in Sweden that match your hardwood floors! You think you know everything?!? Go FUCK YOURSELF!
Speaking of books, now I'm reading God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Vonnegut. No effeminate males in his books, I'll tell ya that damn much, sports fans. Just a lotta real men, doing real men things.........like killing eachother over greed and power and generally acting like under-evolved homo-sapiens. I have no idea what point I just made.
*Being such a huge fan of music, literature, and film, I found out a long time ago that the first step to opening yourself up to ALL of the great stuff out there, is to get over your own hangups with masculinity/femininity. I know I had to. Just because you teared up at the end of The Times of Harvey Milk or think The Smiths make beautiful music, doesn't mean you like cock. It means you're an adult who can appreciate good art. The cock part is optional. Before Night Falls is, in my opinion, one of the best movies ever made, and that shit is gayer than your Uncle Tootie.