THE STORMING BOHEMIAN PUNKS THE MUSE: it sucks to have the flu

The Storming Bohemian has the flu. Fever, aches and all that jazz. Determined to remain punkalicious, I have struggled to write a column this morning and given birth to: drivel. Determined not to leave any stone unturned, however, I dug into the Bohemian archives and mined a coupla pieces that touch upon my love for stormy bohemian weather. Perhaps you’ll find them edifying. I’ll be back next week, rarin’ to go.

(1) Why Storm?

Existing institutions often fail us.

—the regular job market
—the university

Alternative institutions and ways of being are essential.

To say “no” to that which is dehumanizing and life-destroying is to affirm an alternative. But the “no” — a firm and committed “no” — has to come first. And at any cost.

The alternative path I call “Bohemia”. But not the “drinking bohemian”, not the “partying bohemian”, not the “angry bohemian” or the “self indulgent bohemian”.

All these types exist but are false paths with dead ends.

I want to be a “conscious” bohemian. A spiritual bohemian. Bohemia is my religion. Bohemia is my politics. Bohemia is my home and my family. I will take it by storm.

How can this be done without falling into self indulgence?

It is the commitment and the community that matter, not necessarily the art produced.

Art is nice; but commitment is nicer and more important.

What I want to experience is an alternative community and way of being focused on the creation and appreciation of art as a primary way of life. The artifacts that arise from that, however wonderful, are incidental.

This is a tribal view of art, not a romantic one.

There are societies, I believe, primitive ones and tribal ones, and even religious ones that are like this: monasteries that make great music, theaters that produce great plays, symphony orchestras, rock ‘n’ roll bands, santeria houses, jazz clubs, poetry series…

Let’s do it to it.


Is it easy to make a poem?

Yes, it is easy to make a poem.

Because the sun is shining
And outside my studio window
An American flag is blowing in the wind
Like a leaf caught in a tornado
Flapping itself into oblivion.

You see?
Metaphors are everywhere.

It is easy to make a poem.

Because my heart is packed
With the wonder of my friends
And the way we look at one another
And see the universe in each other’s eyes

Because it is summer and last night
There was a meteor shower
And I was there to see it

Because I woke up this morning
And smelled the coffee and
Went to share breakfast with a pal
In a greasy spoon and gossiped
And felt happy to be alive

Is it easy to make a poem?
Of course it’s easy to make a poem.

But it’s fucking hard
To make a good one.

– Charles Kruger
The Storming Bohemian