Thursday, September 22, 2005

From 'Where I Get My Weird Shit' by James Ellroy

"The Establishment?" Fuck that. Counterculture rage denotes a new conformity. Every puerile street punk hates the Establishment. Their critique is short on analytical rigor and long on personal pique. Street punk Ellroy knows this. He can't quite voice it epigrammatically. He's a neoconservative crashing in parks and Goodwill bins. He craves women like the then-unknown Peggy Noonan. He's got a not-quite-acknowledged moral ace up his sheeve.

Goofball Ellroy rarely thinks in abstractions. Goofball Ellroy feels this:

He created his own shit. The Establishment did not fuck him. He made his own choices. He plumbed his own course. He engaged his own shit.

Weird shit. Goooooood shit. Painful shit compounding at a horrible cost. Righteous shit for future pages.

The 60's and 70's bopped forth. I bopped forth heedlessly. I got drunk. I got bombed. I ragged the counterculture and their candy-ass angst. I surfed their dope tide. I failed to note the contradiction.


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