J. Lo.
Jennifer Lopez isn't the only J. Lo that I idolize...
Jack London is tha MAN. I finished reading 'John Barleycorn: Alcoholic Memoir'... seeing as I am alcoholic-in-training myself, and alcoholism runs in my family, added to my checkered past and love for literature, I think it is perfectly natural that I love this book.
'John Barleycorn' isn't as epic as 'The Sea Wolf' or as eloquent as 'Call of the Wild' buit it is definitely engrossing and perhaps the closest London got to writing a true autobiography.
It leaves me wishing there were some sort of 'frontier' that I could pick up and go to, to start over, and try my fortunes in a different life... but no, I cannot go to the Yukon with a dogsled and pan for gold, and I cannot sail to the South Seas and go hangout with naked Tahitians. I can't be an oyster pirate, and I can't run t'ing'z on the West Oakland waterfront.
*sigh*
I need more life experiences to draw upon for my forays into writing, but for this generation, the frontier just ain't so. Previous generations had frontiers around the world to go play in and future generations will have other planets and the infinite depths of space to experience and write great things about... and me?
I guess I'd better stay in school.
In the meantime, I have started 'The Iron Heel', an account from London describing the future fascist states around the world... kind of like Orwell's 1984 albeit fascist instead of socialist.
So, instead of having a life in the near future, I am making a proposal to myself to collect the rest of London's works that I am missing, and read them.
Jack London is tha MAN. I finished reading 'John Barleycorn: Alcoholic Memoir'... seeing as I am alcoholic-in-training myself, and alcoholism runs in my family, added to my checkered past and love for literature, I think it is perfectly natural that I love this book.
'John Barleycorn' isn't as epic as 'The Sea Wolf' or as eloquent as 'Call of the Wild' buit it is definitely engrossing and perhaps the closest London got to writing a true autobiography.
It leaves me wishing there were some sort of 'frontier' that I could pick up and go to, to start over, and try my fortunes in a different life... but no, I cannot go to the Yukon with a dogsled and pan for gold, and I cannot sail to the South Seas and go hangout with naked Tahitians. I can't be an oyster pirate, and I can't run t'ing'z on the West Oakland waterfront.
*sigh*
I need more life experiences to draw upon for my forays into writing, but for this generation, the frontier just ain't so. Previous generations had frontiers around the world to go play in and future generations will have other planets and the infinite depths of space to experience and write great things about... and me?
I guess I'd better stay in school.
In the meantime, I have started 'The Iron Heel', an account from London describing the future fascist states around the world... kind of like Orwell's 1984 albeit fascist instead of socialist.
So, instead of having a life in the near future, I am making a proposal to myself to collect the rest of London's works that I am missing, and read them.