On the importance of finding out who, what, and where you are

Writing is always a therapy for me. It is therapeutic to me. It’s my way to restore balance and peace. I write because I have to, not because I want to. Writing is forced on me. And it all began with Laura. 
Awareness and Self-Awareness are often taken as granted in humans, but I maintain that very often “it ain’t so” with some humans I have encountered. Most interestingly, what people think of themselves may not be what I think of them and vice versa. The difference between them and me may lie in the discrepancy in intelligence, knowledge, courage, sensitivity, and ability to face and accept Facts and Truths. The truth of the matter is that some humans I have interacted with and had contempt for, all have an inflated sense of self (i.e., they think they are better than they actually are and have very little of true pride and self-respect). They are very uncomfortable and annoyed and in denial when facing a bragging, insecure, unenlightened human like me who asserts his superiority to them in certain areas instead of being amused and humble and eager to learn from such a person. In other words, they feel inferior and are extremely uncomfortable about their inferiority. And they react about their perceived inferiority in a childish and despicable manner. 
I am not like them at all. I readily accept the fact that there are millions of humans who are superior to me or more knowledgeable than me in certain areas. I also now realize that most of my past social mistakes occurred when I temporarily forgot who, what, and where I was. In those moments, I temporarily lacked self-awareness and awareness of others; I forgot some advice from Confucius. 
Hemingway was a self-conflicting man because of the way he was brought up. He was a competitive and driven man. Unfortunately, he could be mean and small as evidenced by the way he savaged his early mentor, Sherwood Anderson. However, he was loyal to another mentor, Ezra Pound and helped Pound a lot during his incarceration after WW II. The long entry in Wikipedia on Pound ( I strongly urge you to read it) mentioned Hemingway’s opinion of Pound, a singularly free spirit and artist. 

Pound in 1920 by E. O. Hoppe

“In 1925 a new literary magazine, This Quarter, dedicated its first issue to Pound, including tributes from Hemingway and Joyce.[245] In Hemingway’s contribution, “Homage to Ezra”, he wrote that Pound “devotes perhaps one fifth of his working time to writing poetry and in this twenty per cent of effort writes a large and distinguished share of the really great poetry that has been written by any American living or dead—or any Englishman living or dead or any Irishman who ever wrote English.”[246]

With the rest of his time he tries to advance the fortunes, both material and artistic, of his friends. He defends them when they are attacked, he gets them into magazines and out of jail. He loans them money. He sells their pictures. He arranges concerts for them. He writes articles about them. He introduces them to wealthy women. He gets publishers to take their books. He sits up all night with them when they claim to be dying and he witnesses their wills. He advances them hospital expenses and dissuades them from suicide. And in the end a few of them refrain from knifing him at the first opportunity.[246]”

Pound once said to his biographer, Michael Reck, that “

At seventy I realized that instead of being a lunatic, I was a moron .” The statement hit me hard and deep when I first came across it because I finally realized at the age of 70, that I was both a lunatic and a moron for a long time. I decided then to be impervious to moral relativism, tightly embrace self-respect and noblesse oblige, and stop being fearful of Death. 
Though Hemingway wore his masculinity on his sleeve and Masculinity featured heavily in his books, he killed himself with a gun as his father did. His father was a physician and yet he was bossed around by his domineering and musically talented wife. Hemingway was fond of dressing up as a woman in the privacy of his house. His mother messed him up in childhood. 
I don’t really know if it is really masculine to kill oneself or to grin and bear it and suffer to the very end like Nietzsche did. Nietzsche once penned an arresting and heart-stopping statement that the thought of suicide makes it possible for many humans to pass through many difficult nights. Nietzsche was a premier psychologist, besides being a philologist, musician, poet, and of course an important and highly influential philosopher. Even Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis and an arrogant and bossy man and literary stylist physician, acknowledged that he had learned a lot from Nietzsche about human beliefs and behaviors. 

Norman Mailer, a quintessential Jewish-American enfant terrible man of letters in the second half of the 20th century. He wanted to be a public figure à la Hemingway. He was openly competitive. He once wrote an essay comparing himself with his fellow novelists. His verbal altercations with the gay Gore Vidal were legendary. He even challenged Vidal to a boxing match, but of course Vidal declined. Vidal was no macho man. His strength was in his wit. By the way, if you read his novel Julian, a marvellous piece of historical fiction, you would look at Christianity with a jaundiced eye. Actually, anybody with a good brain and knowledge would look at Chrristianity and almost all religions with a jaundiced eye and would regard those who embrace theism as simply not too smart, ignorant, childish, and weak-minded. That is my conviction. But I digress. Like Hemingway, Mailer fancied that he was a macho man. Whereas Hemingway got his kicks from watching bullfighting, being an ambulance driver at the Italian front in World War I and wartime journalist in the Spanish Civil War and World War Two, and engaging in big-game hunting and deep sea fishing; Mailer boxed, ran for the mayoralty of New York, and directing a movie. He was even instrumental in getting a long-term convict named Jack Abbott who happened to write very well released from prison. Shortly thereafter, Abbott got into an argument with a restaurant manager over the use of the bathroom, and Abbott killed the man. This incident really shook me up when it happened and I have meditated on it ever since. You don’t really know when and how you are going to die and you must treat all people with respect. Actually and ironically, the ones who don’t deserve respect must be treated with utmost respect by you. You just never know what will happen to you if you don’t. I understand humans have a thing for Power and love to exercise it when the opportunities arise. Most humans, even if they are stupid, ignorant, superstitious, and all-around assholes and scumbags, fancy that they are special, better, and superior to certain fellow humans. I see that on everyday of the week. If you are a member of certain Vietnamese-language forums, you would be no stranger to many assholes that exhibit that deplorable and stupid trait. Anyway, here is the link to the story about Jack Abbott and Norman Mailer if you care to read about it:

https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/crime-and-publishing-the-story-of-jack-abbott-and-norman-mailer/

Mailer published a lot of books.He was a good writer. He was good enough to be able to make a living from it and supported numerous ex-wives (he was married six times) and 9 children. His Jewish mother adored him and thought he was a genius. Believe it or not, there is even a journal devoted to his works. He does have admirers. Certainly, he is already in the pantheon of American Literature. He is being read and will be read in the future. He was that good. I liked best his first book, The Naked and the Dead. I read it when I was 22 years old.

I don’t think I will be in any pantheon of Literature. I am not that good. However, I do hope several poems and short stories of mine will be read in the future. Like Hemingway and Mailer, I fancy that I am a macho man. I have a strong fear of cowardice. Unlike Hemingway’s mother, my mother didn’t think I was a genius, but she did love me very much and was very proud of me. In fact, the biggest reason why I didn’t go ahead and kill myself in my early 20s was because I loved my mother. I didn’t want to devastate her with my untimely death. I ironically learned a lesson from the turbulent period of 1970s and that was the life you save must be your own. I was stupid in trying to save a life of a woman and that nearly killed me in the process. It turned out the woman didn’t deserve to be saved after all. She wasn’t worth it. Hindsight is always 20/20. I do have many regrets in life.

In the end we are what we meant to be. I am a man of intelligence, heart, and knowledge, who lives life dangerously and flirts with self-destruction. Philosophy, Languages, and Poker are my passions. They define me. Money doesn’t define me. I remember a line from the movie Indecent Proposal spoken by the character played Woody Harrelson, “I thought he was the better man. I know now he’s not. Just got more money. “

For many decades after Laura dumped me, I still pined for her until one day I got my peace when I finally realized she was not a better human than me. She was just a bit more intelligent than me and came from a wealthier family. She was nobody special. In fact, I fancy that I am a special human. 

Wissai

June 1, 2024