A Season in Hell

While I was at the bookstore last night I picked and read through part of a translation of A Season in Hell by some long dead french jackoff named Rimbaud. I really do not know what to think of the work but I am intrigued to read more (perhaps I should have bought). It seems to be little more than an internal dialog that the auther has with himself, but rarely have a read something so angry. The author seems to hate society for what it has made him, himself for what he is and God for making him feel shame and guilt. The introduction says that he was a proto-bohemian poet (a non-conformer if you will) but he seems to me to be a hateful, egotistical, though intellegent, prick. Interesting.

The work ends with the dates April-August, 1873. This was apparently his season of hell. (I am sure that Dan is contemplating posting a comment about his season of hell). It is possible that this date could simply be when he wrote the piece, but it seems more appealling to think of this as a time when he examined himself and the world, and liked not what he saw. Perhaps, a more pessimistic person would say that life is more than a season, while a more optimistic person would say that he needs to stop focusing on the negative. I would say, ...

Z.Monkey