It is the day of my thesis meeting. My committee of three professors, having read my thesis, will offer suggestions and provide feedback for about an hour. If you know anything about long writing projects, then you’re acquainted with the rush of relief that comes when the final draft is submitted—the seeming swelling of everything good; the easiness of breath due to your newly expanded air. It is a feeling that lingers for some time. Well, I turned in my thesis over a week ago, so my committee would have time to read it before today’s meeting. And that feeling did come, and it lasted for two or three days, in slowly ebbing increments. It makes me wish I always had a long paper due (not really).
Yet a different, but just as exhilarative, feeling found me this morning. The last song to play in my car, right before parking and entering work (alas, it’s still a work day), was a song that I reference in my thesis: Lou Reed’s “Make Up.” Out of the hundreds of songs in my iPod, which was set to shuffle, it chose that one! It’s as if the universe patted my shoulder, letting me know that my effort was in harmony with all of existence—like the pieces were coming together, if only for a moment, and allowing a glance at some bigger picture, whose pattern would clarify in the end. My anxiety evaporated into the cool November morning, and I listened to the whole song.
In my graduate poetry writing workshop, we recently studied the prose poem. For those who haven’t discussed modes of writing in several years (what kind of weirdo discusses modes of writing?), prose is basically any writing that is not in verse. For example, novels and instruction manuals are both written in prose, whereas poetry is written in verse. It’s a basic distinction. Well, there’s this thing called a prose poem, and it is a hybrid of both modes of writing. It is a poem whose rhythm is controlled by sentences rather than by traditional poetic constraints, such as line and rhyme. Often they look like paragraphs, but they’re usually not indented like a paragraph. Think of them as blocks of prose. Yet they function like poems. In other words, they possess poetic rhythm and language, and they compress lots of meaning into a tiny space. The more of them you read, the more you get a feel for what a prose poem is.
Below is one of my attempts at writing prose poetry. It is inspired by the recent Weezer concert I attended. I have long referred to Weezer as my favorite band, due largely to the affinity I developed for them as an undergraduate. The poem is presented as a photo, because it was important to show what a prose poem may look like on a page rather than on a blog post. And just as a page is often bent a little, so too is this cellphone photo–a happy accident. Here it goes.
The sideshow influence is highly visible in the realm of celebrity, and in the category of celebrities that appear to share common lineage with freak show performers, there is an unwashed yet attractive quality. To say unwashed in this sense is not necessarily to say unbathed, though that may be the case. Here, rather, the description of “unwashed” has to do with a socially subversive quality, the opposite of which is clean-cut and polite. It is Amy Winehouse versus Donna Reed. It deals with the adoption of an appearance or persona with roots in subculture instead of mainstream culture. Take as example the outlaw motorcycle fabricator, Jesse James (not to be confused with outlaw robber Jesse James, though there may be striking parallels). He is more infamous than famous, a designation that was always somewhat in place but was made concrete by his public headlong plunge into marital infidelity, the victim of which was a perceived “nice” girl, casting James even more solidly as a villain. Yet we watch him anyway. There he is, on a television rerun, with his tattoos, muscle shirts, slicked-back hair, and bad attitude, cracking wise and insulting everyone within tongue’s reach. And the entire time, though amidst a swirl of antagonism and snarkiness, James emits a dark charisma, negativity notwithstanding. There is something electrifying about his presence. There is a feeling that, if any time was to be spent around this guy, I would need him to approve of me, for reasons known only to a therapist. His reference would not look good on a job application, but his acquaintanceship would sure be exciting.
Now consider the much-maligned carnival worker, i.e., the carny. The image that comes to mind will vary from person to person, but it is safe to assume it will be a marginal character, probably dirty and evil-looking (whatever that means, “evil-looking” being a fluid concept that changes from era to era and among the classes). In spite of the sweat-stained seediness of the soiled-jean-and-undershirt-clad, greasy-haired vagabond that I imagine, it must be admitted that, beyond the revulsion, there is a sense of freedom that is very attractive. It may be a thing projected onto the carny from my imagination, but it is there, and the reason why is unclear. Is it attractive precisely because it would be out of character to espouse such a lifestyle? Is it the vicarious thrill of glimpsing a freedom only hitherto imagined? It matters less whether the carny actually feels free. It is the perception of freedom that matters. Like many of us, these scandalites tend to wallow in the grip of one vice or another. The difference is, their shortcomings are on display in a way ours are not. The carny inspires an odd mix of curiosity and disdain that enthralls. So it goes with notorious celebrities, like Winehouse and James (whose names put together that way make them sound like an indie-rock duo). Some accept these marginal figures, some reject them, but they are never fully embraced by the general public in the same way as someone safe, like Tom Hanks, is. Their names tend to come with a caveat: “She’s a good singer, but…”, or “He builds good motorcycles, but…” Whereas a celebrity of Hanks’s status may get an unqualified “He’s such a good actor. I just love him.” Then everyone piles into the minivan and heads home from the movie theater.
By definition, a sideshow happens outside the main tent. The sideshow influence is the observable phenomenon that takes place when the denizens of the freak show begin to surface inside the tent. It is not necessarily a bad thing; the main tent could use some variety. Expand this freak show metaphor to the culture-at-large. In the vast seas of clean-cut, conservatively dressed men and women expanding and contracting according to the rhythms of the workweek, it is becoming more common to spot a figure of James’s or Winehouse’s ilk, and our collective visual palate may be all the better for it. These people remind us that life has a gritty side, which is as integral to the whole enterprise as the urbanity for which so many strive. Chaos is just around the corner, waiting to encroach upon our neatly groomed exteriors and carefully appointed schedules. We can resist it, accept it, or embrace it, but we cannot make it go away. Hardly a character from popular media has expressed this notion better than radio deejay Chris Stevens (played by John Corbett) from television’s Northern Exposure. Upon being asked why he had done something illegal, Stevens replies, “People need to be reminded that the world is unsafe and unpredictable. And at the drop of a hat, they can lose everything, just like that…chaos is out there, and he’s lurking, beyond the horizon…sometimes you just gotta do something bad, just to know you’re alive”(“Spring Break”). Maybe the adopted outsider status and anti-conformist posturing of certain groups of people are the very ways in which those people realize they are alive. Whether it is bad or not, who are we to judge?
Amy Winehouse. Digital image. People. 2007. Web. 11 March 2013. <www.people.com/people/amy_winehouse/0,,,00.html>
Donna Reed. Digital image. Women large jaw. N.d. Web. 11 March 2013. <www.womenlargejaw.com/node/2154>.
Reality star Jesse James. Digital image. San Marcos Mercury. 14 Sept. 2012. Web. 11 March 2013. <snmercury.com/2012/09/14/reality-star-jesse-james-to-appear-at-thunderhill-races/>.
“Spring Break.” Northern Exposure: The Complete Second Season. Writ. Joshua Brand, John Falsey, and David Assael. Dir. Rob Thompson. Universal Studios, 2006. DVD.
Tom Hanks On HBO Pics. Digital image. Your Stuff Work. 2011. Web. 11 March 2013. <yourstuffwork.blogspot.com/2011/11/tom-hanks-on-hbo-pics.html>.