Sex, Drugs, and Coco Puffs
I have just finished the Chuck Klosterman novel Sex, Drugs, and Coco Puffs. I was recommended this book by a friend who is more dear than he might know (Phil if you ever read this, please know that I’m terribly glad you left Cincinnati - that city is death incarnate). While I enjoyed the book, I realize that Chuck wrote a book I wanted to write for years. I’m glad I never did.
Wait. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking my unwavering discipline and literary savy gave me the languid edge to not write this book. No. That has nothing to do with it. I was, sadly, more interested in masturbating and reading comics. But you’re not interested in hearing about my masturbatory habits anymore than you are hearing my opinions on people’s vapid obsession with Lil’ Wayne.
Chuck’s talent is the onion peel. He sees layers. He makes them as vivid as the world and snatches them from in front of your eyes. And worse, is that they were there the whole time - you just weren’t paying attention. He peels away the layers of a given subject. Make no mistake, this not simple deconstruction; for Chuck this is about praxis - not theory. And it is his holy work. Brilliant work actually.
But enough cocksucking. I said I was glad I didn’t write this book. Why, you ask?
Because the book is a book I would have written had I stayed in Cincinnati. I’d have written it in a city that lives in contradiction - thus, the book itself would have been a contradiction. It would simply be another part of the pop culture it was about (which I suspect Chuck would say “That’s the point, dumbass”).
But my point is, to what end? I believe that this is the very reason there will be no definitive voice of this generation - because this generation seems more concerned with voyeurism than participation. Our generation may actively consume the media given to us (to a fault, even) and sculpt that media into something else, but this is simply cultural alchemy. I feel that Chuck holds my face to ugly, profound truths about, well, nothing. And all the while, I’m asking myself "Should I be thankful for this"?
I’m not sure if Chuck was auditioning for the voice of this new generation. I’m not even sure that it’s necessary.
If it were, I’m sure there’d be a reality show about it.
Wait. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking my unwavering discipline and literary savy gave me the languid edge to not write this book. No. That has nothing to do with it. I was, sadly, more interested in masturbating and reading comics. But you’re not interested in hearing about my masturbatory habits anymore than you are hearing my opinions on people’s vapid obsession with Lil’ Wayne.
Chuck’s talent is the onion peel. He sees layers. He makes them as vivid as the world and snatches them from in front of your eyes. And worse, is that they were there the whole time - you just weren’t paying attention. He peels away the layers of a given subject. Make no mistake, this not simple deconstruction; for Chuck this is about praxis - not theory. And it is his holy work. Brilliant work actually.
But enough cocksucking. I said I was glad I didn’t write this book. Why, you ask?
Because the book is a book I would have written had I stayed in Cincinnati. I’d have written it in a city that lives in contradiction - thus, the book itself would have been a contradiction. It would simply be another part of the pop culture it was about (which I suspect Chuck would say “That’s the point, dumbass”).
But my point is, to what end? I believe that this is the very reason there will be no definitive voice of this generation - because this generation seems more concerned with voyeurism than participation. Our generation may actively consume the media given to us (to a fault, even) and sculpt that media into something else, but this is simply cultural alchemy. I feel that Chuck holds my face to ugly, profound truths about, well, nothing. And all the while, I’m asking myself "Should I be thankful for this"?
I’m not sure if Chuck was auditioning for the voice of this new generation. I’m not even sure that it’s necessary.
If it were, I’m sure there’d be a reality show about it.