Beatnik Baby

Beatnik Baby

A Story by monica abigail

"if it doesn't come bursting out of you / in spite of everything you do, / don't do it. / Unless it comes unasked out of your / heart and gut, / don't do it." - Charles Bukowski, So You Want to Be a Writer?
In fourth grade I knew I was going to be a writer.  I played piano, clarinet and violin.  I've always been very good with music but I know that writing was my real calling.  I've always known.  My notebook would scream my name at night.  I would comfort it with words following out of an Impact RT uni-ball pen but I held back.  The writing was never what I actually wanted it to be.  I sounded like every other emotional woman writer out there but I was so afraid of changing my writing into what I wanted it to be out of fear that no one would accept it.  Everyone knew I was going to be something someday and that something was a writer.  It didn't matter what I was writing as long as something out there had my name on it but that's not how it works.  I soon found out that you have to know who you are as a writer before you can pursue the life of one.  Charles Bukowski educated me on the subject.  A mutual friend introduced us and instantly we fell in love, Charles and I.
Men like Charles weren't my usual type.  I had a thing for men who pretended to be intelligent and paraded around with their muscles or had hearts that were much too good for me but Charles was different.  He didn't care who I was nor did he want to know.  All that mattered to Mr. Bukowski was that I would share a cigarette with him every now and then, pour him a drink, and listen to him rant about the horse races and all the ugly women.  He liked to be call Hank Chinaski on occasion which was fine with me because he was making me see myself in a new light.  Being around Charles made me realize that not all women writers have to be so entangled with subjects of the heart, whether it was about the heart being broken or falling in love, women could write anything they wanted.  I listened to Charles and freed my mind, taking off the shackles and chains that had been on for so long.  I had been stuck inside my own body, being told how to write.  I wasn't supposed to use cuss words or talk about real-world things.  Finally I was writing about the little kids in neon shirts who scream for attention, our politicians, my fear of people, everything.  My brain loved this new found freedom and went wild with words.  Everything I had ever felt, no matter how insignificant, was going on paper.  A good majority of it was terrible but when I found the few good pieces, I was ecstatic.  I was finally writing how I had always wanted , getting how I really felt about subjects, even little things, onto paper.  I had no limits.
"God bless you Charles!" I shouted.
"Shut up woman.  I don't let you stick around to bless me.  I keep you here to buy me more beer."
Of course Charles will forever be the love of my life but he grew tired of me and I knew there were other fish in the sea that would help me dig further into my new identity.  I needed to find them with this new mind of mine so off I went to explore the seas.  As I was looking around, I stumbled upon Allen Ginsberg and a buddy of his lying in the woods.  They reeked of marijuana and Allen's eyes were wild.  We exchanged words though his were all incoherent due to drugs and alcohol but his friend seemed interesting so I stuck around.  Allen sobered up after telling us of his escapades of being a gay Jewish man from New York who moved to California and finally introduced me to William Burroughs.  The three of us really hit it off.  We started talking about commies and Allen got onto the topic of his love for LSD.  We were being adventure loving thinkers hanging out in the woods, enjoying our time while we had it.  I lover every moment of it.  I suspected Allen had a bit of a crush on William but I have always been pro same sex relationships.  They were so radical in their beliefs and I envied them for having something they believed so strongly in.  They were so free.  I tagged along on their secret meetings about how much America sucked and their previous drug encounters and listened to them speak.  Everyone was there: Jack Keurac, John Holmes, Neal Cassady, Gregory Corso, the whole gang.
"America when will you be angelic?" shouted Allen.
"America is not so much a nightmare as a non-dream.  The American non-dream is precisely a move to wipe the dream out of existence.  The dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set up by the non-dreamers." Burroughs whispered in my ear.  Allen continued getting upset about America and those residing in it.
"America stop pushing I know what I'm doing." Allen roared.
"I have nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."  Keurac said as he exhaled smoke and coughed.
I let their words dance around in my mind and again, my mind went nuts with information.  I ran out of the meeting afraid I would forget my mind's ideas.  I knew the boys would understand.  Out of my hand came works I never knew I was capable of producing and I danced with excitement.  It had finally come to me, the talent I knew I had but couldn't find.  The Beatnik crew had discovered it and let me enjoy the benefits and disadvantages of finding my own voice.  I thought they were kidding when they said it's serous work to become a writer.  What did they know?  They were just a bunch of drug-addicted alcoholics but they all blamed the writing.
After finally getting my voice in my writing, I started losing more sleep and noticed an exponential growth in my coffee consumption.  I began expressing my hatred or close minded straight women, menthol cigarettes, and idiots that can't drive but I was finally spitting out something that I could be proud of.  The writing poured out of me limitless since it had been locked up by those shackles and chains for so long.  I broke free of all those people who said I couldn't do what I wanted.  I was finally okay with myself and what I put out there.  I didn't care what anyone else had to say about it.  It was all mine.  That's all that mattered.  Those men made me step outside of my comfort zone, expand my horizons.  No matter how much people hate them, I'll still smile and give them my thanks for showing me who I can be.  I'll gladly keep my two cents and radical minded friends.  I know they'll be waiting for me with a warm shot of whiskey and new tales.

© 2011 monica abigail


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Featured Review

While watching Bukowski take a piss in the sink right around his birthday two weeks ago, he offered me this very important piece of advice I would like to share with you, "A writer has NO responsibility except to jack off in bed alone at night AND write a good page. =)

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

My own love affair with Bukowski was quite sleazy.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I thought this was fantastic. Reading about writing makes me want to write, and read. Bolano is another guy who I think falls into your cast of characters. I wish I found these writers when you did. Can't wait to read more!

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

While watching Bukowski take a piss in the sink right around his birthday two weeks ago, he offered me this very important piece of advice I would like to share with you, "A writer has NO responsibility except to jack off in bed alone at night AND write a good page. =)

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Excellent and honest. Raw, straight-forward. I love this unbridled passion you show for your words. I feel similar to this. Even if I die alone, drunk in a gutter, I'll know my words will continue to live on in some form. Writing isn't something you like to do...it's something you HAVE to do. I'm glad you feel the same way.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This was very cool. Given that the beat generation is what made me want to be a writer when i discovered them in my teenage years i can relate to much of what you were talking about. I especially dug the part where william burroughs said the line:"America is not so much a nightmare as a non-dream. The American non-dream is precisely a move to wipe the dream out of existence. The dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set up by the non-dreamers." I can tell that you are still developing as a writer but you are well on your way. KUDOS:)

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Cool, very witty and inventive. Loved it.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
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I cannot say how this affects me..thank you

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I like the company you keep.
Beware of middle-aged one-hit wonders who continue to be stereotypical and chauvinist in their own way. Remember Burroughs' wife.
Where are the women in your list?
ATB
Alex.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

perfect.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

ahh this was f*****g great. amazing stuff.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on December 28, 2009
Last Updated on July 27, 2011

Author

monica abigail
monica abigail

lexington, KY



About
i've been writing for as long as i can remember but i always did a s****y job because i was afraid to write how i wanted. i've finally found my voice and i'm proud of it. the writing may not be grea.. more..

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