All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream…

Edgar Allan Poe might be best known for the raven that croaks “Nevermore”, but there was a lot more to the guy.  He was one of the first American authors to try to make a living from writing, but it didn’t work out any better for him than it has for the majority that followed.  Hunter Thompson called writing “the most hateful kind of work”, comparing it to sex: fun for amateurs, but not so much when it’s your paying gig (“Old whores don’t do much giggling”).  Known in life mostly as a critic of others’ writings, Poe also tried making it with journalism, poetry, and even invented the detective story genre with his character C. Auguste Dupin.  Sherlock Holmes’ creator Conan Doyle said of Poe “each [of his stories] is a root from which a whole literature has developed…”  He married his 13 year-old cousin Virginia, got kicked out of West Point, was disowned by his semi-adoptive father, and died young after being found passed-out-drunk (maybe?) in a Baltimore gutter…one of the original bad boys of Western literature.  My title is from a poem in which he questions the reality of existence, while my image was shot on a dreamy summer afternoon biking the upper reaches of a placid Norwegian lake.  (8 August, 2011  Sognsvann, Oslo, Norway)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *