The Wit And Wisdom Of Norman Mailer

A 1974 poem by Mailer, to his hero and better Hemingway.

I'll try to reproduce it here but he's doing that stupid shit with strangely placed indents and centerings and crap so really this isn't going to give you the full Artistic Impact of the poem.

Gladiators

For Hemingway

Dust returns to dust
even if
dust is a psychic integuement
equal to boredom.

Not all who die are dead.

Some die in one's arms.

One acquires a glimpse
of the beyond.

All hail fucking.

Some even die ine one's arms
in such a way
that you acquire
a glimpse of the beyond
which may be
beyond.

All hail fucking.

-- Norman Mailer

Norman Mailer poetry slam? Kimball's articles instructs that Mailer cared passionately about the following leitmotifs: booze, getting laid, his dick, boxing, other sweaty sports which show off brutality and manliness, his dick, pretending to be the new Hemingway, war, attacking better writers as "minor talents," his dick, pretending to be a really hard-assed guy who gets a lot of ass and will kill you for a carton of cigarettes, buggery, being a dedicated murder-groupie and serial killer jock-sniffer, stabbing women with knives, depicting all sexual relationships as transactional and a "battle" not unlike boxing or other sweaty sports, and stabbing women with his dick, which is much like a knife, except it brings such exquisite pleasure, because he's such a fucking man.

He seems rather Beauchampian, if I may be so bold as to honor him thus. Sort of David Mamet without the cadence and talent.

Anyway, I've come to really hate this prick in the past 24 hours and thought we could give him the send-off to hell he deserves.

posted by Ace at 06:49 PM

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