Thursday, October 9, 2014

October 9, 2014



October 9, 2014

I lost to Patrick. Modiano.  A totally obscure French author who had a book in print in the U.S., but now appears to be out-of-print.  I, on the other hand, have two books in print, and yet, I was unable to obtain the Nobel Prize for Literature.  Clearly there is no God.  On the brighter side, at least I didn’t lose to Murakami.  So maybe there is a God.

In the last eight hours, I have learned a good lesson.  Never budget yourself in the slim hope of winning a prize.  I can clearly use the $1,100,000 winnings as well as the award’s reputation, but alas, perhaps I’m fated to be in the shadows of the literary world. And is that a bad place?  I used to think that I just wanted to be popular and loved by everyone, but then I had to remind myself that I can’t stand most people. So why would I want to be loved by people by people I wouldn’t spit on, due that it’s not worthy of the procedure.



Right now, due to my sole and obsessive focus on writing, I pretty much ignored the financial world.  There is not a change in hell or heaven for me to get monetary award for my work.  Looking forward to the future, there is…none.  At least till December 31, when I will finish my writing project. After that, I don’t think I can survive in this world. I may have to sell my collection of rare Jacques Tati 35mm prints as well as my original editions of France Gall recordings, but alas, it is just objects, and the only object I need now is food and drink.  I was hoping to win the Nobel, if for nothing else, give me time to focus on the writing till I die of old age.  But now, that possibility seems so distant, it is like watching the ocean and looking at its vanishing point.  There is nothing ahead of me, and I need to be honest that this is it, and “it” is not going to be that hot.  In fact, it’s going to be a disaster.

It’s ironic that Modiano’s work deals with the subject matter of ‘identity.' My work is pretty much in that category as well, in fact, I think most 19th and 20th century literature is about the loss of identity, but ironically I don’t really have one, unless I write.  Once the writing stops at the end of this year, I will be adrift in an ocean of my own making - and it will be on a leaky boat, just focusing on keeping the vessel as dry as possible.   Like a Lee Wiley recording, I’m leaving the sophisticated world of the pen and paper, and will float to neither here nor there.



I want to congratulate M. Modiano on him getting the award, and surely he deserves it.  From time-to-time I do feel that the $1,100,000 was nabbed away from my hand, but I have to get over it.  I have to get over a lot of things. “Get over it man.”


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