The Last Beatnik - Frank Palescandolo, Palescandolo; Frank Palescandolo
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"When I was taken to Bellevue Psychiatric Ward I was in a state of severe depression. I huddled within myself, bone against bone, trying to discover surcease in a living center of dead and numbing feeling. I remained in this condition weeks and more until one bright afternoon. I was sitting on a pavilion chair facing the East River swaddled in a gray blanket. A blanket corner flapped open revealing to my eyes a pattern of active ants encircling a cement flower pot. I was struck by a fearless wonder. As I reached out to them lovingly, they chained across the grinning muscles of my face and…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
"When I was taken to Bellevue Psychiatric Ward I was in a state of severe depression. I huddled within myself, bone against bone, trying to discover surcease in a living center of dead and numbing feeling. I remained in this condition weeks and more until one bright afternoon. I was sitting on a pavilion chair facing the East River swaddled in a gray blanket. A blanket corner flapped open revealing to my eyes a pattern of active ants encircling a cement flower pot. I was struck by a fearless wonder. As I reached out to them lovingly, they chained across the grinning muscles of my face and prickled my face. I crossed my arms as if to embrace them all. I stood tall suddenly, the blanket fell to the ground. I stood naked against the rusted railing of the pavilion. I was free of that clammy fear and most therapeutic of all I was told I began to sob violently that shook a once rigid body into a dawning acquiescence of that day. I was painting to create a distance between myself and the written word. A double view, some say the artist's irony. It is impossible to see irony in one's life without a view apart. A canvas on a distant easel. Is there a plot in my life, a prescription, a set course, a dead reckoning? Finally, I accepted the dictum of ancient source, Amor Fati. Love your life and allow it to play out is potentialities. North. North."
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Autorenporträt
Frank J. Palescandolo was born in New York City. He attended Columbia University and the Fordham School of Social Work, He is a novelist, poet, translator and memoirist. Drawing on his experience as a member of the District Attorney's Office of Brooklyn, he first became an novelist of crime. As the scion of a landmark restaurant family of NYC, his memoirs, Remembrance of a Restaurant and The Decameron of Dining further displayed the diversity of his talent and experience. Novels include Rumble on the Docks, La Sirena Straniera, The Nose of San Januarius, Under the Blue Skies of Naples, Man in a Cassock and Phallos Dionysus. In addition, as a celebrated Neapolitan dialetical translator his credits include: Love Poems of Salvatore DiGiacomo, The Naples of Salvatore DiGiacomo, Bare Thoughts: The selected Poems of Eduard Defilippo. Forthcoming from IUniverse is his latest translation: The Poetry of Fernando Russo.