Thus Spake The Beard
David Ravensbergen
Growing a beard is about more than just facial decoration—it’s a lifestyle choice. What originally began as something of a playoff beard, grown during the tedious months of composing a mammoth research paper on American fiction and psychoanalysis, has since taken on a life of its own. Each new day yields another reason to avoid trimming my bristles; from Black Mountain comparisons to the drunken advances of beard–admirers at the Pit Pub, I just can’t bring myself to shave. Perhaps it’s because my essay still feels incomplete somehow. At the end of such a long endeavour, there’s always some material that just can’t be included; much like cutting features from a magazine, it’s tough to see a good quote go to waste. There’s one in particular, a little gem from Don Delillo’s first novel Americana, that’d I’d like to rescue from obscurity and share with you:
“Every man wants to grow a beard before he dies. It’s one way of saying fuck you to everybody. Look, I’m nearing the finish line. I want a beard. It cheers me up just to look at it in the mirror.”
Granted, the character in question is an aging, embittered advertising executive, and I’m a youthful idealist who doesn’t particularly want to say “fuck you” to anyone. But I do take a quiet pleasure from seeing my own hirsute reflection, and I think that Delillo truly captures the complex psychological resonances of facial hair, or something like that. Perhaps I’ve just been reading too much psychoanalysis—it’s even been leaking into this issue. If you look hard enough, you can see the mechanisms of the unconscious at work all throughout this month’s features. Ariel Pink’s deranged compositions are clearly a result of the transference of childhood trauma into his art. Although we’ve tried to aid the healing process with our mixtape feature, the psychic fallout of Shindig’s controversial decision would best be dealt with in group therapy. Then there’s Ladyhawk and Pride Tiger, whose ongoing debauchery reeks of indulgence in Freud’s death instincts. You get the idea. When it comes down to it, I’m just really excited to leave my paper behind, and begin my tenure as the new Discorder editor. I promise next issue all this psychoanalysis will stop, just as soon as I castra…cut off this beard.