And today we shift our focus to verse, as today’s birthday boy is T.S. Eliot.  Born on September 26, 1888, Eliot wasn’t just a poet; he was the maestro of modernism with his work always tapdancing right on the that thin line between comprehension and chaos.

Eliot was the unlikely rock star of the poetry world, something that we’ve not seen in this country for an unfortunately long time, mostly because modern Americans don’t read.  He was a Harvard-educated intellectual who had a “knack for turning the mundane into the magnificent.”  But be was no stuffy academic…his interests ran toward the peculiar, and his wit was a sharp as one of my throwing knives.

I’ve always found it strange that the mastermind behind “The Waste Land” was the same guy who wrote “Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats,” which inspired the frankly overrated Broadway hit “Cats.”  I prefer when Eliot sticks to brooding existentialism instead of whimsical cats, but whatever.

Of course, Eliot’s eccentricities didn’t end with his love for cats.  He insisted on sartorially elegance for himself, which set him apart rather dramatically from his bohemian peers.  It was like me not having any tattoos: rebellion wrapped in a three-piece suit.

T.S. Eliot left the U.S. for London in 1914 primarily to study philosophy at Oxford.  However, he was also eager to immerse himself in the more vibrant literary scene of Europe, which was more aligned with his modernist aspirations.  He wanted to hang out with influential writers like James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, and Ezra Pound, who became Eliot’s mentor.  In true rebel form, he eventually became a British citizen (actually, the British don’t have citizens…they have subjects, so I don’t know how actually rebellious this was).

Eliot had a day job working at a bank, which seems rather surreal…that mind forced to focus on banking all day.

Cheers, Tom!

N.P.: “Bohemian Rhapsody – OG Mix” – Puscifer