Why Marshall Matters
March 27, 2008
Why Marshall Matters: on word-wizardry, family values,
and why Eminem and Johnny Cash could have done a duet
What’s a nice Baptist grrrl (with dozens of twinkie friends) doing cranking up the volume on obscenity-spewing gangsta hip-hop?
I’m rapping my ass off, that’s what!
I can’t say I’ve ever identified with Martha Stewart, though I fancy myself a bit of a whiz in the kitchen. I never saw use for painting the walls in varying shades of taupe at every season’s change. But since Our Lady of Napkin Rings busted out of the joint, seems she’s been shaking it with other middle-aged ladies to Eminem. And I’ve joined right in, wondering how I failed to notice up until now that Eminem is the bomb. Not only is he kind of hot, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s a man of family values, a master wordsmith, and a storyteller in the tradition of Johnny Cash.
This linguistic contortionist is rather Seussian, but definitely not for kids.
I’m embarrassingly late to get on the Em train. Perhaps I was sleeping through his rise to fame, or perhaps I unconsciously absorbed the negative press about fag-hating and womanizing without my usual protocol of reserving judgement for work I’ve observed firsthand. Certainly the aura of negativity surrounding much hip-hop left little for me to hope for creatively and culturally, though my husband, who was brilliant, was a huge fan of Eminem. I had little understanding of Eminem’s roots, and it sure wasn’t the first on my list of things to look into while I was occupied with major events in my personal life.
I had no real opposition to the noise I heard blasting from car windows or other people’s parties, but I was never drawn in. Perhaps I’ve just never been much of a gangster, and didn’t know enough then to identify with Mr. Mathers as a poet.
My crash course was exciting: a lot of reading, a lot of dancing around the kitchen to Square Dance chopping celery, seeing his videos and concert footage for the first time, and watching 8 Mile. This guy is a creative power-horse, a supersonic rhyme machine.
The beat got planted when I found myself with an unusual and enigmatic roommate who had dreams of turning his humble roots into hip-hop superstardom. Robert kept late hours jumping around in his room with Curtain Call blasting from his 17 speakers, and I figured I couldn’t complain. After all, as an early writer, I subjected him to enough Madonna and Nina Simone during six a.m. inspirations. Fair is fair, and I barely noticed that I was starting to tap my feet in my dreams to rather nimble, perspicuous, melodic beats. I wondered how the guy could rap so fast, and though I heard plenty of expletives that reminded me of the good old days, working my first job at the small town gas station, I became curious about Eminem and his lyrical gymnastics.
Yes, Slim Shady swears a lot and goes into involved details about stuff I prefer to do privately and keep to myself. But there’s a lot more going on in the extensive library of lyrics than booty calls. As I noticed references to his daughter Hailie and his desire to care properly for the one he calls the only lady in his life, I began to surmise that Marshall is rather a bulwark of family values. I began to catch on to some of the theatre of his history, and saw that the man who claims “God sent me to piss the world off” was giving audiences a brutal but realistic glimpse into the blues of the ‘hood. 8 Mile certainly documented with beauty and precision some of the courage it took for a wimpy white boy to stand up in Detroit and start battling it out in freestyle rap, earning the respect of his peers. Actually, Eminem is unrivaled in rhyme, and some say he is the best rapper in the world, black or white.
Eminem’s personal life and the identities of his rabblerousing, hostile characters like Slim Shady overlap. While one must be careful never to believe that every aspect of a celebrity persona is true to his own life, it’s safe to assume that in an everyman kind of way, Eminem is talking about the kind of life he lived. Self-professed trailer trash, Em grew up among the poor, abused, addicted, fatherless, and lawless. He has said, “My father? Never knew him. Never even seen a picture of him.”
Besides the quicksilver, shrewd, intricate rhyming talent, the man also has feelings. “Now you’d prob’ly get this picture from my public persona, that I’m a pistol-packing drug addict that bags on his mama, but I wanna take this time to be perfectly honest, cause there’s a lot of shit, that I keep bottled that hurts deep inside of my soul.” (Hailie’s Song).
Arguments that this style of music is responsible for promoting violence have always fallen flat with me, despite my previous disinterest. I believe that violence creates violence – singing about what you know might be the best way out of the ghetto. Here I would argue that Eminem continues an American tradition of storytelling in song, and not unlike country, gospel and blues greats, he tells the stories of locale. Johnny Cash sang of bars and trains and brawls and drugs and prison and injured faith and love, and Eminem is no different. He is also similarly stoic, accepting the past for what it is without compromising his belief in a different future.
(Given my late entrance to the Rhyme King poetics train, I must acknowledge that many critics of Eminem also criticize thinkers who tout the “Mathers as Storytelling” plot line. The Village Voice’s Robert Christgau wrote, “Eminem has never been the storyteller lazy defenders pretend he is. (June 11, 2002))
Though like all families, ours had its problems, I was lucky enough to grow up in a nice Christian family in rural Ontario, loved by both my parents. Still, I can relate to the soul of hope and anger in Eminem’s raps about poverty, mental illness, drug addiction, ambition, and spiritual conflict. These realities may be extreme in the place where he grew up, but there’re millions of people who share them nonetheless, and a few in those millions I have known and loved. Certainly I can relate to his horror at everyone he loves dying – perhaps the strange and only link we have besides our word-craft.
Some of life’s darker themes like loss transcend family income and personal geography and are simply human. Johnny Cash said he wore black to mourn for those in prison and those hooked on drugs, for those who never heard the words of Christ. And growing up as I did, I heard the words of Christ on a regular basis and he spoke in parables that his peers could understand. Johnny Cash told stories that spiritually bereft peers could find sympathy in, wearing his struggles on his sleeve. Eminem has the same staggering talent for stories, and it would be wrong to assume he should speak the language of people other than those he grew up with, the language of the person that he is.
And while Johnny Cash’s integrity and sainthood is now deeply entrenched in North American iconography, it must be kept in mind that in his time he was “a prototype of the hard-living, finger-flipping rock and roll hell-raiser.” Kurt Loder’s amazing article, Johnny Cash, Original Gangsta, points out that Cash was “present at the creation of white rock and roll”, similar to Eminem’s historical role in the creation of white rap. Marshall Mathers raps about addiction and alcoholism: JC was crazy from amphetamines. Loder writes eloquently, “Cash may have set up shop as “the man in black” in order to distinguish himself from the gaudier denizens of the pop-music world, but the image resonates on a deeper level in his music.
“All of which is kind of … gangsta, in a way. Johnny Cash has drawn on a deep well of murder and mortality in American music, and everybody pretty much agrees the man’s a master, a modern icon. Today’s rappers, however — who deal with the same subjects in a, shall we say, more immediate way — get nothing but flack”
The Man in Black had some words of advice for rap artists, told to Loder before his death. “ “Ignore it,” Cash says. “Do what you do. You can’t let people delegate to you what you should do when it’s coming from way in here [taps heart]. I wouldn’t let anybody influence me into thinking I was doing the wrong thing by singing about death, hell and drugs. ‘Cause I’ve always done that. And I always will.””
(http://www.mtv.com/bands/c/cash_johnny/news_vma_feature/index.jhtml)
At least one other thinker makes the connection between these American icons. Bryan Leed, reviewing Cash’s music on Amazon.com notes, “On American Recording, “Delia’s Gone” is a misogynist song about killing your woman in various ways. I don’t like this song, but it was the biggest hit on the album when it came out in 1994, and it put Johnny back in the public eye in a big way with its MTV hit video to promote it. It is a lot like the sort of black gallows humor which rapper Eminem writes in (though Eminem gets more extreme, Johnny has been doing these types of songs since before Eminem was even born).”
Contrary to my own preconceived notion, Em is not simply blasting obscenities and spewing hatred. His twisting, twisted rhymes pulse with rhythm and texture, and they are richly populated stories. The cast of characters is wide, from hip-hop celebrities (many of whom he grew up with) to his wife and daughter, to his Mom and other family members, to journalists, musicians, and celebrities. The “plot” of said stories grows within each song, but more so, the pieces fit together as re-appearing characters start to flesh out the past events through various works. Of course, like any poet, Eminem takes poetic license and we can’t assume each player’s role is the same every time, or that he is always talking about himself. But like the personal nature of most other poetical works, and from what we know of his private life, we can conclude everything except the pillaging and killing is at least semi-autobiographical.
After spending a lot of time with the enigmatic hip-hopper, Em’s biographer, Anthony Bozza, says it better than I’m able. “His desires are simple: he lives for hiphop and his daughter, nothing more,” Bozza writes. (Whatever You Say I Am: The Life and Times of Eminem). Describing his lyric talents, he continues, “He relies on what works for him: bending words to his will, honing double-rhymed structures to convey what life has dealt him, ultimately to undo it, at least for the length of a song. His lyrics bite, cut, jab and burn with an urgency that few artists harness. He uses rap music but he speaks a universal language, the same language of experience, hardship and humour heard in the blue, jazz, country, and folk, in literature…anywhere a story, through passion, becomes real in the retelling.”
He and I are not the only ones who see Eminem’s extremely important cultural significance as a storyteller or poet. Poet and Nobel Laureate Seamus Heaney said that no one since Bob Dylan provoked so much interest in poetry and lyrics and praised Mr. M’s “verbal energy.” Wikipedia notes that “Eminem is noted for his ability to change his vocal pace and style multiple times within one song without losing the beat, and has been praised for his skill in alliteration and assonance”. Eminem has been nominated for and won countless Grammy awards and his song, Lose Yourself from the 8 Mile soundtrack, won an Oscar. The boy was garnering these awards while some of us slept right through his talent.
With lightning speed, Eminem weaves intricate, complicated rhymes, incorporating clever wit and satire. He lives and raps by his wits, moving from the mean streets to become the biggest-selling male artist in the world by 2001. President George Bush said called Eminem the “most dangerous threat to American children since Polio.” Like too many others who haven’t walked 8 miles in another’s shoes, Georgie forgot that the real threat to children is violence, abuse and poverty. Andy Thomas, a stand-up comedian in Toronto says, “I’d like to see how many poor kids Eminem has put into a wheelchair, George.”
It’s also interesting to note that if Eminem is the hatemongering lunatic that Mr. Bush perceives him to be, then perhaps the President of the World has more in common with the rap mogul than he cares to admit. Not only does the rapper’s music appear to hate women and faggots, but Eminem clearly sings in Hailie’s Song against abortion. Aren’t these the family values that Bush espouses?
When celebrities were asked to speak out against Eminem, Madonna spoke loud and clear. “Since when is offensive language a reason for being unpopular? I find the language of George W much more offensive,” Madonna wrote. “I like the fact that Eminem is brash and angry and politically incorrect. At least he has an opinion. He’s stirring things up, he’s making people’s blood boil, he’s reflecting on what’s going on in society right now. This is what art’s supposed to do.”
And Elton John, who is as flaming as they come, was happy to perform with him at the Grammy awards. He called Eminem’s album (The Marshall Mathers LP) the “album of the year,” stating, “It appeals to my English black sense of humour.”
Fellow genius Stevie Wonder is a man everyone can agree is sweet and loving and a poster child for politeness. But he also spoke out on the rapper’s behalf. “For someone to say, this is a disgrace to the Grammys, come on. There was a time when blues was called a disgrace.” (Wonder did criticize Eminem’s Just Lose It, however, which poked fun at Michael Jackson, saying he was kicking a man while he was down.)
To ask a child from these roots not to speak or sing out about what he knows is to leave them voiceless. In spite of our personal ethics on any given topic, is it actually moral to assume that an impoverished, abused American child who sings about that life is any less deserving of fame and success than those who can sing about driving Daddy’s Porsche to honour roll meetings? Are ghetto children incapable of genius, simply because we find the topics they use distasteful? If Eminem can’t talk about the horrors of the ‘hood, of being fatherless and addicted and suicidal and abused, then we must also censor others from speaking out about things we don’t like. We can’t hear any more personal experience stories from those whose lives were shattered in any way. We can’t watch sponsorship ads for starving kids on TV. No more Holocaust survival stories, and no more newspapers.
Mr. Mathers himself said, “Saving Private Ryan was probably the illest, sickest movie I’ve ever watched, and I didn’t see anybody criticizing that one for violence.”
While women’s groups and gay activists have decried Mr. Mathers’ perceived bigotry, we would all do well to remember that poetry is about reflecting a reality, not promoting one. A thoughtful writer identified only as Dan posted an insightful piece on the Internet, reminding us of our fear of Walt Whitman’s homosexuality. The irony is that now we fear a man who raps the word “faggot”. Dan writes, “You don’t read Walt Whitman and get scared by his homosexuality or even his homosexual subtext. It is classic American poetry. Bob Dylan was born out of Guthrie, born out of Whitman. I dare propose that Eminem has been born out of Bob Dylan. He is the modern urban poet and you are burning his books.”
Peculiar, yet utterly common, this young man might be as confused by fame and the marketplace and the world as anyone, yet he accepts his place in it and keeps no pretenses. All of his anger becomes tolerable when you see the sly bent of dark humour, wrenching every drop of blood from the old hip-hop adage, “keeping it real.” I admit that it’s too dark for me, that I do not relish the violence in Shady’s stories, though guns are a way of life in Detroit, Notably absent from all of Mathers’ constructions is the affluenza of the gangster. This has never interested Em – only providing reasonably well for his family interests him financially, and creating is all he has ever wanted to do. His ideas come forth as quickly as his lyrics, driving him into a quiet madness that he has learned to harness it by freeing its aggressive, politically incorrect spirit. Ironically, for the only guy who can speak at 100 miles a second, he is a man of few words.
By unleashing the demons of a whole nation’s cultural texts, he takes the blame that belongs to all of us. It’s also empowering to not fear those texts. I don’t fear Eminem in a dark alley. We’ll likely share a joint if we met at a party, and he would cordially shake hands with my gay friends. He would not wave around a gun or get too high and plastered. He’s unrefined and uneducated, but has devastating talent and disarmingly, an unexpected modest integrity. He is a superstar, a mogul, and a god – yet his megalomania is just a theatrical construct. He’s really rather unassuming in real life. He is right to move into producing, where he can mastermind and mold instinctively other talents that follow in his wake, giving proper tribute to the talents that molded him, respect he has given from the beginning.
So I’ll defend the “lyrical arsonist” (Croal, Newsweek) for the trademark, 8 mile-a-minute, speedy voltage of quick-thinking, alliterating, logorrhea. It’s good to ask ourselves if inspiration belongs only to those who are well-adjusted, healthy, sane, and well-bred. By carefully examining history, we know that most artists, musicians, and other geniuses led upstanding lives free of abuse, bigotry and insanity. HA! Genius seldom comes from the wholesome places we would like it to, and “keeping it real” means the lower ranks of society must have equal voice. Where would music be without Mozart and his penchant for women, wine and song? And if we remove all traces of sexism and bigotry from literature and art history, well, we won’t have damn thing to read.
As Eminem raps in Bad Influence, “People say that I’m a bad influence, I say the world’s already fucked, I’m just addin’ to it.” After all, reality bites.
Because I Couldn’t Say Everything Myself:
Just How Good Is He? Giles Foden for the Guardian Online
http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,3604,434096,00.html
Focusing on the history of poetics, this is a brilliant examination of Eminem’s place in poetry by literary genius Giles Foden. If I haven’t convinced you lit-lovers to open the mind to the rapping at the door, it’s hard to argue with Foden. He has an impeccable knowledge of poetics and writes beautifully to boot.
Genius-Not! Eminem Melts in Your Hands by Armond White
http://www.firstofthemonth.org/culture/culture_white_eminem.html
In addition to Eminem’s personal responsibility for all the fag-bashing, rape and devil worship in the world, we can’t forget his contribution to oppressing racial minorities and subverting the true genius of all the black rappers he professes deep respect for. Guilty of sharing the limelight and not presenting “feel-good” rap like the oh-so-memorable Vanilla Ice, Eminem whines about his petty white shit and pisses off one Armond White, who knows that Eminem’s “industry triumph depends on asserting the privilege of being white in America.”
The Scotsman- Eminem Streets Ahead in his Art
http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/s2.cfm?id=726052003
Jem Rolls writes convincingly that art can come from anywhere, if it’s good enough. “Is Eminem also poetry? Of course. It’s slickly inventive, it keeps you surprised, you can’t see all the rhymes coming. And a singular energy compels you.”
Tune Out Eminem’s Pitiful “Poetry”- Michelle Malkin for Jewish World Review
http://www.jewishworldreview.com/michelle/malkin061300.asp
Michelle Malkin disses Eminem and I can’t agree with much that she says, but have to hand it to her for being nearly as clever a wordsmith as Mr. M himself. (And no, Ms. M, I didn’t have to look up logorrhea in the dictionary like you did). “Eminem is just the latest dysfunctional spawn of our Jerry Springer society. Sooner or later, he’ll self-destruct. The real threat to our cultural health are those entrenched media intellectuals, lounging backstage with lattes and laptops in hand, who sanction garbage as art, expletives as entertainment, and violent perversion as lyrical poetry.” Too bad Malkin can’t see that the only thing separating her word-works from his just might be Em’s “Dickensian childhood,” one she evidently didn’t share.
Whatever You Say I Am: the Life and Times of Eminem by Anthony Bozza
Crown Publishers, New York, 2003.
Bozza presents an interesting scope here, and shows great wit and perception as a writer.
White Noise: The Eminem Collection edited by Hilton Als and Darryl A. Turner
Thunder’s Mouth Press, New York, 2003
A thoughtful and varied collection of writings from different media sources. These thinking reflections preceded my muses, and many show similar discoveries, but there’s plenty of intelligent fodder to refute our claims of genius as well.
Where to Start
I didn’t quote extensively from the poetics of Eminem’s vast lyric library, simply because the art form needs to be heard out loud. The way art is created is how it should be received, and Em’s rhymes twist and wiggle impossibly on the tongue, insidiously insinuating themselves into the framework of the song. But I’ll recommend a few of Shady’s most important works. Start with When I’m Gone, Like Toy Soldiers, Lose Yourself, Run, Rabbit, Run, Without Me, Mockingbird, My Name Is, Hailie’s Song, Square Dance, and Cleaning Out My Closet.
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Feud of the Gods
December 18, 2007
I missed what is now old news: Moby’s declaration of love to Eminem, after years of feuding between them over whether or not Moby’s music should be called “techno.” Seems the yappy rapper impressed the lily-livered sage with his anti-Bush rhetoric. I’ve been a fan of Moby’s music for a long time, but spent 2007 hopping around to Eminem and dreaming up ways that we could get together. Eminem used to offend me, too, and now I just can’t get enough of his dynamite. I think Moby is catching on, too, as he ages. Some gods are more theatrical, some more solemn. Each has his place. Britney and Kevin? Elton and Diana? Madonna and the rest? It’s just the feud of the gods.
Now Moby is more famous for his one minute on last week’s Daily Ten than he is for his baldness, unorthodox ethical life, and 20 years of innovative, exquisite music. “I love Eminem, and I decided if I’m gonna have feuds in the future they’re not gonna be with the most successful musician on the planet, who travels with people who have guns.”
Moby was not, of course, the only queer or woman to take offense at Eminem’s fag and bitch jabbery. Whole armies of human rights advocates were up in arms. So was Boy George.
Then again, Boy George and Elton John both made public their distaste for their own mother, The Madonna. Weird. It was just plain bizarre for Elton to poopoo Madonna’s live shows for lip-synching. Consider that if I am naked, dancing aerobically on the roof with acrobats and drummers, flying through the air, I may have to lip-synch here and there. But everyone knows Madonna does all the work that is humanly possible, all the time.
You would also expect a skinny white boy like Eminem to very realistically diss fags the way many cultural groups do- most certainly his demographic. It was refreshing to see Elton John get it right for once and join with Em at those infamous Grammy awards of yesteryear as if to say, “can’t we all just get along?”
I’m the quintessential fruit fly, born that way in my own way, and the view from here is this: Elton John performing with Eminem is building a bridge the way nothing else could be. Props to both parties for showing the truth: that showbiz is just showbiz. You gotta read behind the scenes. Music makes a world where Eminem and Elton can merge audiences in peace. In the Madonna era, we are the champions.
Hilarious that some of these same girls have got too big for their britches. That they dared to lash out publicly at Madonna! Oh, keep it to yourself. I mean, come on, Madonna made a world where I can spend my life in clubs with the fiercest and the finest. I can go to gay church on Sunday and watch Will and Grace with my best friends and their shih tzu Lola. I can drink frosted crantinis and still pick up men, because everyone mingles now like one big happy family. And those crantini girls? They’re a really married couple, because I live in an awesome country that affords my friends to make the same marital complications that I’m allowed. Elton was still in the closet until Madonna let him out. I mean, wow, ELTON JOHN tried to pass himself off as straight- kind of like Jodi Foster. Imagine.
So what was what’s his name? Yes, war is stupid, my silly bear. That’s why Eminem and Madonna put out powerhouse songs like Square Dance and American Life. So what was your sketch, honey? Oh, right- Madonna doesn’t do her own accounts and she should have dissed Eminem for saying ‘fag’ instead of giving torch to free speech.
Since when do we only hear what we want to hear? How little can we then know about human nature and behaviour? Besides, Georgia you’re a big girl now. You’re allowed to walk on the streets with those eyebrows without getting killed.
Here’s the deal: whatever our special subgroup, whatever our unique identity markers, we’re going to have to endure some blatantly irritating stories and insinuations, but we also get to tell ours. We MUST fight to keep free speech, not fight to censor the speech of someone we don’t like. It riles me up how much we take for granted: it wasn’t too long ago that I could not vote because of my pretty little head. I don’t have to be married or live as a man in order to paint. I might hear “bitch!” as I walk down the street. Bring it on. But don’t send me to a country where I would go to jail for showing my ankles. Come on, George, you should be going up to the guy and asking if he wants to talk about it, for crying out loud. Do you think there are ghetto kids home in from the streets, crying because Tupac said nigger?
The thing is, ladies, we need Madonna to remind us, like the great Mother that she is to all, that though gay music is indeed among her inspirations, the rest of the world is still breeder. And in that world is also eroticism, and oppression, and sorrow, and beauty, and those worlds must also tell their stories. I’m very happy to be among the shiniest gems in this city, but at some point I am also one of those fine breeder specimens (with a twist, of course!) with unique needs and stories of my own.
The point is, Georgie Girl, Eminem and Madonna are both a zillion trillion kabatetrillion times more spectacular, creative, talented, smart, and more adept at perceiving the world around them than you will ever be. Yeah, it was a blow to me as well, and I just had to accept that I will never be as celebrated as Madonna! And as soon as I understood that we have to have teachers, the easier it got for me to be humble. What could we learn if we were at the top of our game? Even Madonna learns, gleans, muses over and mulls. She knows she is not the only player in showbiz, even if she is the Lady Messiah.
Besides, if I were relegated to a life of nothing but the Pet Shop Boys and Erasure, I’d shoot myself in the eye. Don’t get me wrong, I believe the Pet Shop Boys are underrated and love their glossy, detached sardonicism. And Erasure is so happy and angelic, a true flame of positive energy making. But once in a while I’m going to have to mate. And when that happens, it’s either smoldering with Nina Simone’s blues, or Led Zeppelin maxed up on volume, or, well, Madonna’s Bedtime Stories.
I knew Moby was smart enough to come around, and that he’d come to agree to disagree and offer his respect. I’m not saying you have to love Eminem just because I suddenly do. I was very much of that mindset that I couldn’t tolerate the word ‘bitch’ and hence, I missed out on a lot. Then I figured it out. I do not have to endorse a certain headset toward any group just because I am capable of listening to elements of those groups through their cultural markers like music, film, art. But I sure as hell have to give props where props are due, and allow you space and audience to say your piece, so that I can also have mine.
Sigh- the last man I seriously considered running away with, the rippling army brat slash firefighter- expressed some surprise that someone of my awesome intellectual fortitude would give a flying flick about what Paris was wearing and whether Eminem’s 20 year relationship with his foster sister/wife was going to last.
Well, I wasn’t going to go anywhere if I wasn’t allowed to read my magazines! Most people are a little embarrassed about their celebrity fixations, perhaps guilty because they cannot name a dozen Nobel or Pulitzer winners. But I’m not ashamed. Guerrilla scholar and intelligence of the world, Camille Paglia, is also very candid about her worship of various icons, including Madonna.
By following the triumphs and tragedies of our stage and screen, we are merely re-enacting the great loves and the great feuds of the gods. Like Dionysus and Isis and Ganesh and Pan, like Medusa and Imanja and Thor- our pantheon is rife with vanities, insanities, jealousies, scandals, affairs, murders, adventures, broken hearts. Human beings have a profound need to deduce their world through the scandalous sagas of the gods and goddesses.
Ancient or modern, we do now and always will weave our stories within theirs. Moby and Eminem are just classical archetypes, finding their places after a dramatic rift. The escapades and sagas of the immortals are exactly the theatres we’re re-enacting. Academics can snivel at me, and turn into their soulless diagrams of the epoch of Horus or Tristan and Isolde.
But we live our life in archetypes, and today’s paparazzi zeitgeist is no exception.
November 2007
Lorette C. Luzajic
www.thegirlcanwrite.net
www.literaryaddict.wordpress.com
www.thegirlcanwrite.wordpress.com
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