My mind is seething between many different topics. None of them coexist, except in the random collection of my head. This week I have been absorbing materials about women in Afgansitan. It is unfathonable to me what they go through, the ones that do not enjoy being the property of males that they are forced on at an early age. The fact that most of them are not allowed to go to school, or hold a job, is difficult for me to comprehend. There are exceptions of course, but they are rare. What is not rare is for a woman to be imprisoned for being seen in public with out a male escort. Or, if she files for a devorce because of physical abuse, she can be imprisoned as well. And those are the happier stories. Naturally there are good men over there, men that actually love their wives and sisters, and do not mearly see them as things to be owned. But my heart goes out to the women that do not have that. The ones that want their voices heard but have no vehicle to do so.
As well as those upsetting thoughts, I have been obsessing on the poet/author Jack Kerouac. His ability to create music with words in a jazzy, tumbling, mess of sentences that falls like electricity and pebbles on your ear, makes me unable to get his words out of my head. I keep going over and over some of my favorite lines from Midnight Lucien. I think he had the ability to pinpoint a single mood, in a single time, and stretch it out over a country side. It is like watching a landscape fly by while on a motorcycle. It is not as freeing, as it is exhilarating. You are trapped by the speed and momentum of the work.
Neither of these topics really have anything to do with each other, but they do make me think. Kerouac lived in a time of social unrest, and change. We do as well. People like him looked at life, and wanted something more. Not more opportunity or the ability to suck the capitalist society that we are bred in, dry. Instead I think he, and others of the Beatnik movement, wanted more substance, more social awareness, more expectancy. I just do not see it this decade. I wonder why. We are the most informed generation ever. We have more media coverage ability than ever before. Why is there not an uprising in the arts and literature? Why do we not have a singular voice that will be remembered and studied in fifty years. And if we did, what would the core issues be? The wars? The environment? The hate at the borders?
There is so much material to work from, but all I see in our music today is cliche’ crap rehashed with sexuality thrown in to make it appealing. Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, and whatever other crap singer/media persona is all that we hear about. I have seen five times the amount of news coverage on Charlie Sheen than I have on the three wars we are part of this past month! That is scary to me. In fifty years there will be a new group of hot women in tiny outfits, and crazy men on drugs. That is not something we should be basing our generation’s namesake on. It is fleeting and meaningless. I hope I am wrong and there is a new movement that I just do not know about. For now, I am concerned and disgusted. I want to be part of a group of people that takes advantage of the information and power given to them, for changes sake. Personally I want to align myself with Kerouac, not Gaga.