' Cinema Romantico: A Digression: The Sermon Of Another E Street Disciple

Friday, March 12, 2010

A Digression: The Sermon Of Another E Street Disciple

Ever since Al Gore invented the internet in the early 90's (wait, am I not the first person to make that joke? I could've sworn....) it has been filled with so many thoughts and opinions and grammatical errors and paragraphs and words, more words than mankind could conceivably comprehend, that sometimes you forget you can encounter exemplary writing on this tangled interweb which can make the monotony of another workday feel like a blessing.

I have already sent this along to some of you but I just have to link it here as well for all to find and read. (The Sermon.) It's not simply that she is sermonizing on a subject so near and dear to my heart nor that she has expressed herself on that subject far better than I have ever expressed myself on it (and she's 11 years younger than me!) but because it is the sort of writing for which I have the deepest respect and admiration. It is personalized, uber-passionate, balls-to-the-wall, Hurricane Category Five writing.

I have never ever understood, and I never ever will, why if life is short (and if you Google that phrase you get 85,400,000 results) we find the annoying need to be so measured and studious in critical analysis and in our thoughts and feelings on artists and works of art, on anything, that we love the most. We've got one ride on this merry-go-round, my peeps, so say no (!) to restraint and say yes (!) to florid prose. Tell me how you feel. This girl tells us how she feels. Our world should be desperate for more writing like this.

I've read every book and piece there is to read on Bruce Springsteen. I've read all the discourse by Harvard professors and Brooklyn College professors and City College of New York professors and Southern Illinois professors and rock critics and "Americanists" and people who are just plain fans but I've never read anything about the man I have loved more than this because she rips open her sleeves and shows the fucking veins. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to spend my lunch hour reading it another 5 times while listening to "New York City Serenade" on my Ipod.

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