Thursday, February 5, 2009
Happy Birthday to the Mortal and Those Out There Beyond the Coil
Like Walt Whitman or Antonin Artaud before me, allow me to toot my own horn. Yes, sir, today is my birthday. My special day. That's how I know I'm special. Not like you think I mean, I mean I'm mentally handicapped.
Beyond all medical diagnosis, let it be said that it's not only my birthday, today marks the birthday of the deceased writer canonized by Cheeseburger & Fries, Mr. William Seward Burroughs. Dead, maybe. But his words live on.
I thought of Burroughs recently, with his preference for a walking cane as part of a complete gentleman's attire. I've used a cane before, due to the rare form of arthritis that started coming over me when I was a wee lad, 20 years young. Just in the past two days, I've been back on a cane due to my left leg having apparently gone south for the winter. As I said when I was younger, "If you're going to feel bad, might as well look sharp," and the right cane can make for one hep accessory.
The point of this random, rambling report is to say, thinking of Lux's passing, and the anniversary of Burroughs's birth, as well as my own date of birth, despite feeling bad, one should live every day as if it were his or her last. Certainly Lux Interior performed in such a manner. Burroughs seemed to bet his life with his writing; he trusted those writers who did not bet with such high stakes little in the commerce of the soul.
So, kids, eat, drink, be merry. Work hard, play hard. Live slow. Eat a lot. Die on the toilet. This I impart on my birthday, here in the 2009th year of our Lord. And as our Lord, Louis Jordan, once sang, "When I'm coppin' that eternal nod/I'll be the happiest cat in the graveyard."