Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Anthem for the already defeated

I haven't had anything of worth to say of late, so this is going to be a shit and garbage post. But isn't that what blogs are for? Thus commences the cockblocking of Danica's hair post.

Danica allowed me to go buy some beer last night, for which I say my thanks. We're poor lately so I haven't been drinking much. I wanted the biggest bang for the buck so I bought a six-pack of La fin du monde and bought Danica a four-pack of Newcastle. La Fin du Monde ("The end of the world") is certainly an acquired taste. How many beers do you know that have a shelf-life of eight years or more? None beers, mom. Drinking it always reminds me of the Bluebird Bistro in Kansas City, as I always drank La Fin du Monde or Duvel. The beer at the Bluebird Bistro is expensive, so I would order beer with high alcohol contents (LFDM is 9% alc./vol.) because I like being drunk.

All this to say that I was a bit drunk last night. When I'm drunk I love a lot of things, mostly things like music and poetry. Under the music heading, the thing I loved last night was "You broke my heart" by Lavender Diamond. For poetry, it was an untitled poem by E.E. Cummings. Here it is. Get drunk and read it like you're 'sposed to.

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of a flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

It is getting to be spring here. There are little tiny wrinkled green papers starting to peek out of the limbs of the maple tree outside our apartment window. The tree is diseased, but these leaves are too young to be aware of that yet. It is a bit deceptive, however, as it is still pretty chilly out.

I was listening to the CBC on the radio and the host was talking to two women and a man about infertility problems. I wanted to turn it off because it was bringing me down. I don't want to be down. I'm really joyful today. And for no apparent reason, which is the best kind of joy. Fuckin' A. Dude fuckin' A. No ontologically driven neurotic strings on me, thank you very much. This must be because I am so utterly confused about everything that I'm just allowing myself to be amazed with the world. I only know that I love my wife, that I confess the Nicene Creed, and that I feel beautifully awkward most of the time. I used to be very opinionated about politics and social structures and the like, but I'm so clueless about that stuff now. The more I learn about these things the more reticent I am to make any sort of claim whatsoever. This is dumb, of course, but probably a necessary phase. But do intellectual pursuits have to lead to some sort of praxis? Can't I just learn for the fun of it? At the moment I feel no calling to join or lead a group of revolutionaries, though I am certainly sympathetic to activism. I have little ambition in life other than to love and have a grand time learning things and observing things. I think napping is noble. I can't make myself believe that sloth is sin. I don't make a good Protestant.

S'il y aura se régalant et dansant à Jérusalem l'année prochaine, alors je veux commencer à pratiquer et me préparer à lui maintenant.

1 comment:

Ceci n'est pas une pipe said...

I hate beer but I like Duvel and La Fin du Monde.
Also I work at Bluebird Bistro in Kansas City. Weird, huh?