Ah Bohemia (For Writers) 


Who holds the flame of Bohemia these days? That’s what a collegiate working of Netflix’s Luke Cage brought me back to tonight. That and the recent book Bohemians by Ben Tarnoff about that scoundrel Twain and his homies in San Fran. A classy bunch. I’ll always remember you Ina Coolbrith…

Does it matter? Any of this art? Is it so much trinkets, bells and whistles, flower threads adorning the walking dead, trailing tower of memories that slip into the negative. Seems so, I guess. Though language hold the key, doesn’t it? Some stories are built into the language itself. Hell the pictures imprint them, they would all be scribbled again, on the rocks, through the Ben-Ben, fractal patterns hastily splatterered out on the ground.

That’s bad writing. We need to stop that shit. Over writing. It masks simple thought. Strive to portray complicated things simply. The adverb is the studder of this syndrome. 

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