Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Pimp My Friend
There are days when I'm honestly not sure why I'm a writer. I have no idea how I fell into this professoin, this job, this lifestyle. (And yes, being a writer is a lifestyle, just like being a rock star or a Hare Krishna is a lifestyle.)
When I was 18 and a clueless freshmen at Syracuse, I randomly signed up for section 100 of a mandatory writing class. It was taught by a 22-year-old graduate student named Kevin Keck who always wore a backwards Chicago Cubs cap. He was from North Carolina and fancied himself a poet.
The class was called The Rhetoric of Counter Culture and in it we read books by Ken Kesey and William S. Burroughs, among others. We were also supposed to keep a journal of everyday of our lives that semester. Being the obedient student that I was, I did just that. At the time I was also going through sorority rush, and thus drama ensued.
Long story short, Keck liked the journal so much that he didn't make me write any papers for the rest of the semester. I didn't even have to read anything if I did't want to. All I had to do was finish the journal and turn it into a readable manuscript. The project lasted through that May and into the summer.
If people wonder why I'm a writer and not social worker or a publicist, it can all be traced back to that spring semester of 1996. An unsuspecting graduate student told me he liked my work, and so I sallied forth.
In a feeble effort to return the favor, I must tell everyone about Keck's reading this coming Monday, January 9th, for his book, Oedipus Wrecked.
7:00 PM
McNally Robinson Booksellers
50 Prince St.
(212) 274-1160
Buy his book here or at the store.
