Miller in Hollywood (5/13/95)
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“[Rimbaud] is certain that when he gets to his destination he will find suitable employment. He is sure of himself, everything will go well. He is young, full of high spirits, and there is so much to see in this great world. It does not take long for the tone to change. For all the verve and ebullience he displays, for all his willingness to work, for all that he possesses in the way of talent, ingenuity, doggedness, adaptibility, he discovers before very long that there is really no place for a person like himself anywhere. The world does
not want originality; it wants conformity, slaves, more slaves. The place for the genius is in the gutter, digging ditches, or in the mines and quarries, somewhere where his talents will not be employed. A genius looking for employment is one of the saddest sights in the world. He fits in nowhere; nobody wants him. He is maladjusted, says the world. With that, the doors are rudely slammed in his face. But is there no place at all for him, then? Oh, yes, there is always room at the very bottom. Have you never seen him along the waterfront loading sacks of coffee or some other ‘necessary’ commodity? Have you never observed how well he washes dishes in the kitchen of a filthy restaurant? Have you never seen him lugging bags and valises at the railway station?”
Modesty forbids that I should extend this rhetorical litany to janitorial work and newspaper delivery, but modesty, of course, was never Miller’s strong suit: by the next paragraph he’s segued seamlessly into his own memoirs, recounting his experiences scorching hash and scouring plates, and Rimbaud disappears from the narrative for several pages.
I loved it anyway, of course.
____________Disciplinary action (5/11/95)
