I recently finished Jack Kerouac’s novel On the Road. It’s one of those books I’ve heard people talk about quite a bit, usually with this cult-classic fascination that says, “If you don’t read this book, you are missing out on life itself.” People get like that with certain books and sometimes it’s unfounded, but the truth is, I did enjoy this one. Interestingly, though, my enjoyment wasn’t so much for the story itself or even the characters, but for Kerouac’s writing style. I guess you can like a book for a number of different reasons and that was mine.
I thought about the condition of my soul while watching the Oscars. Because award shows are a weird thing we do in our culture. We celebrate men and women who entertain us. The same thing happens with professional athletes and musicians. We pay them ridiculous amounts of money because they are good at making a ball go through a hoop, or great at playing an instrument, or as is the case with the Oscars, making a movie. It’s like we say “You are one of the best things in this world because…because…I watch you on TV!’