Jangling Note
by Joani Reese
The Art of Boozing
The art of boozing isn't just for bastards,
though Dylan Thomas may have argued so;
their art survives though artists court disaster.
Some practice drinking faster to get plastered,
a quart of scotch, Bukowski's liver glowed.
The art of boozing can't redeem a bastard.
Ernest sought out the bottle only after
he left a thought behind each day he wrote.
Their art survives though artists court disaster.
Did Berryman, that grizzled poem master,
gulp gin to steel his nerves before he leapt?
Bradstreet survives (though soused, John was a bastard).
Perhaps they drink to squelch a burning anger
that rankles in their guts, cut loose, afloat.
Their art survives though artists court disaster.
We often dream that writers live much faster,
their cocktail'd rants strangle each jangling note.
The art of boozing isn't just for bastards.
Their art survives though artists court disaster.
03/11/20
|
16
favs |
908 views
17 comments |
152 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
Planned on reading this in San Antonio at The Pillow and now only reading to a few cats. Apologies to E.B. and competent villanelle crafters everywhere.
Other stories by Joani Reese
Tags
This story has no tags.
L O V E !
*
Intoxicating!
I feel like this touches upon a big subject. Because so many great artists have been boozers, yes, and also because so many great artists have been the addicted types in general. This treats that subject with a careful touch. I feel like one day, if we discover the relationship between substances and artists, we'll make one step towards decoding every human relationship. Dug it
I've always thought creative people were at some level O/C types, which of course, carries over to their drinking. Liked this a lot.
Oh, yes....
"jangling note" is perfect, perfect.
*
Wow. *
"We often dream that writers live much faster,
their cocktail'd rants strangle each jangling note."
This is good, Joani. I like it.
Excellent stuff, Joani.
I read this while sipping my three olive vodka martini and it all went down well.*
"Bukowski's liver glowed."
So did his words, as noted. We couldn't save these guys from self destruction, but their words might still save us. It's a grand irony that wrought the diamond.
love love love.... x !
Thanks, folks. This was fun to write.
Ray Carver
Thanks, Steve, and yes.
Destined to become a classic! Love!
Great stuff.