This is Cendrars, alias Freddy Sauser, alias the Bourlingueur or vagabond. Cendrars, who understood the 20th century better than anyone, better than Einstein - because he understood truth is in action - better than Gandhi - because he knew life is war - better than Churchill - because he devoted his patriotism to a foreign land - better than the surrealists - because he knew the great works are accomplished alone and in obscurity. And, after having investigated Hollywood, and the two great wars, and having made a million and lost it three times over, and living with the gypsies, and suffered the loss of his writing hand, and his firing hand, and his son, and then the land he fought for, he withdrew in silence to Aix-en-Provence, to contemplate the folly of man. But, when that drippy pacifist Rilke started oozing his shite in his direction at the Closerie de Lilas one drunken afternoon, Cendrars cold cocked him with his one remaining hand. Cendrars is untouchable, and remains so in death, because ultimately, he never sought the approval of the world. His dialogue was with the gods.
1 comment:
In a few words, both entries, Cendrars and your lively sprite are at least ten leagues better than 99.9% of the bullshit blogs I've stopped reading. Maybe even more than that. If this is what will become the norm, I'll happily read it every day.
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