It took me awhile today to put together that I'd first read his brother's book when, as a teacher, I read about 30 books on autism. I can only barely It took me awhile today to put together that I'd first read his brother's book when, as a teacher, I read about 30 books on autism. I can only barely recall certain things about the family in that-darn bad memory. Did not connect this to this writer then. His brother's book, in a way, was a good read. Helpful for my thinking about autism. Then after finishing this book I read his mother's blog and webpage and the poems are good. I realize I haven't read "Running With Scissors" when everyone else has, but I read the wiki on it tonight, three interviews with him too including VFair. I read his commentary on his mother. A lot of real bitterness. But I have to say that whatever they did these parents and kids managed to get into the highly published category. You or I write about difficult childhoods- it remains babble on a blog. So, somehow I wondered about that. Perhaps in one of the slew of memoirs that Burrough's family have out there- they can consider doing one that could be called " On Plugging Ourselves With Knives" -on just exactly how all this got to print and how a family got so embedded in the notion of being heard just for being-they lead the pack for me right now. Yikes. I'd find that interesting as a place to start. You wonder at a certain point how many different ways one family can mine their years together where things "didn't go well."
Basically for me, here's my story. (Let's see if this way of going holds for the audience) I had a good friend that finally I just could not take any more. After 16 years I realized I was tired. She's a failed psychologist and a public school teacher that feels she's been wronged all her life. She'd like a rich husband, furniture from Pottery Barn, wealth and to be recognized as smart. Anyway, over time, I was sharing with her a complicated story of someone I was writing to on-line and the fact they were then shocking me by writing they were in re-hab. She worked for awhile as a rehab counselor until she had a crack up and went into teaching in public school-slumming it as she says. I was wanting to know more about addiction, re-hab, AA and so on to understand better the experience I had of this person. Because I realized I had missed something very important.
She kept insisting, as she has insisted, I read Burroughs. Read "Dry." Which clearly she loved. I get why she'd love him. Gutting his family, the deep resentments, the tone of his work, his borderline personality...all of that would be perfect ground for her. Here is someone not worried about the other guy- and terrific at justification. Who admits to things like drinking- with the agenda of procuring your money, attention and to gain sympathy, because, after all he found out life is very unfair. She must read him in utter awe. His life is what she'd like to do. Her drama, sense of exaggeration, the need to tell and retell and tell some more to reshape history. It's all up her alley. So I didn't read it. I didn't feel like it.
But after I decided to stop this friendship I thought-it's summer-I'll read it. I am now free from the thirty or forty- five to ten hour phone calls if I say I read it-listening to her talk about her-her damage, her feelings, her reliving what no longer even resembles what she lives.
"Dry" is a recounting of a person who did a lot of stupid things, most especially drinking to the point of nearly extinguishing their humanity. And who handled some bad stuff badly and hurt themselves rather critically. I have no idea at all if what's left has hope-I think he's really so broken- to continue to give him so much attention-it seems practical to do it with a warning label. Attention:Memoir written with an agenda. I don't think it's such an accomplishment not to understand compassion, loyalty, love, another, generosity of spirit, humility, I don't think you can then listen to him fumble around in a self help position as if he's doing this for YOU. J*sus you must be kidding me. I think he's really desperately ill. But that said, Dry is sarcastic, which is called humorous, it reveals his story of a rehab experience, his recounting of ways to sc*ew up, his insensitivity, his excuses, his damage, his trauma, very little of his understanding what he's missing-a dry martini for sure-thrown right into your eyes. It tells about how he functioned when he had to become sober-which we must assume happened-though not from this, somehow later, and his friend who you see no reason would be a friend nor would you want to friend either really-is dying in the book, then too a rather crappy story of his addiction like affection for a gorgeous guy in the right after rehab days- that he takes up with in therapy who is a crack addict-so he can throw in the sex for more degradation.... That relationship doesn't "work out." Surprise?
I don't know. I just read in an interview that Burroughs wants people to look at themselves after reading this-to look at their addictions-you know-to go somehow help yourself. Objectively-let's face it- he wants you to look at him. Augusten wants to be a rock star.
I don't think he gives a rat's *ass if you are struggling, frankly, and I think he tells you that in ways you can look at objectively. He is broken. And he's not willing to jettison how. But I'll give you my two cents on where to look. Can you show me one place in this book where this person makes you feel real connection to something like a celebration of life, to joy, caring, not that he finally took some interest in his dying friend by recounting he cleaned his poop-oh poor noble suffering Augusten-I mean where you feel that he honestly feels someone else is more important than he is? I can't. I just feel like here's an ad man-empty-is selling me this stuff to get wealthy, and to be famous. For the attention.
I don't see him actually sponsoring people, which would be free and take time, or going to work in anonymity for the rest of his life on skid row with addicts-which is actually doing the work, or even talking about it as I know from several friends as it can be to dedicate a life to this...this for me is a lot what I think of when I think of good old Dr. Drew. Because that's what real insight would bring, over accumulation of wealth- I feel him sensationalize the 2000 bottles of whatever as he recounts the old days of addiction for the audience. I suppose I should disclose that I think he's mean, I think he's angry and I think he is really afraid of being an utterly worthless bast*rd-and there's not a lot here to point away from him being more like his parents as he states them than not...
Ok. Did I get a picture of rehab? Not really. Do I better understand an alcoholic? Are they really "a type" I think about it. I think about reductionism. This book hinges on that.
I don't know. The thing is, I really don't understand from this. I may have missed something, but I don't think for all of this it's getting to what I was looking to read. It would seem to me that a person falls into these things to feel better, to cope-to deal with fears, fear of death so on, to distance from overwhelming pain and grief. Maybe to even escape real self evaluation..
I started with my friend, I'll end there- because I see they have similar issues. And I may see this because I glimpse my own self. In her case she speaks of her great authenticity, her personal insights, her depth of growth but, truthfully? I think she functions in incredibly controlling, dramatic, self-involved, emotionally exhausting, stage-like ways that demand her performance and everyone else is either adoring audience- or don't exist for her. What's the difference here? Burroughs is quoted in interviews, in the text , and in other piece I found today of his memoir-ettes- as so proud of not giving a shit about what anyone thinks (the road to confidence don't you know-such a perversion of Zen I still can't believe he calls this being in the moment), cutting off a relationship with a mother- long a serious stroke survivor -and my gosh he's just cruel in what he says. My former friend-terribly proud for not raising a finger to help her presently dying mom(but loving to use her as an excuse to miss week's of work to go somewhere else to work on her second run at a PHD)-an alcoholic mom-one she let raise her daughter to age nine when her mother wanted custody and she in a fury took back on what was her responsibility in the first place.As she tells everyone how she was a self reliant "single mom"- well, ok, only kinda. What I see in her is no ability to recognize what she received- I saw that echoing in this memoir where there is just so much that needs serious therapy and reduction to what he smirkingly asserts and what is.Can anyone really miss what that stuff on sally Struthers says about him. Mean. I did reflect. I am, and have been, thinking that all the memoir writing in the world is not the same as honest communication and a little bit of forgiveness and honesty.
It's not easy to resist re-writing history, it is about saying "I was," but...there is an awful lot to be said for caring more about who you hurt over who hurt you....more
Robespierre
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Books:
baloney
(1)
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