A Sapper Tunneling Underground For the Greater Cause

There is a blue gray in the eastern sky. Low clouds scuttle out of the northeast. The wind picks up. The tree branches begin to flutter. Cars screech around corners. There is an edginess in the air. He came in spouting his spiel and only paused for an automatic ‘yes’ – “Everyone wants to watch movies, right?” [Pause] ‘Yes’ – and his spiel reeled on. It has started with a reference to the weather – not the storm brewing but how nice that the heat spell had been broken, “Awesome day is it not?” [Pause] ‘Yep.’ And thus it began.

The more scrupulous of these [autobiographical writers] did not hesitate to admit that their principle satisfaction was in feeling that they were leaving a part of themselves behind – in other words, writing was felt to confer a certain minimal immortality. This would have been understandable in the century when it was assumed that life on the planet would continue indefinitely. Now that the prognosis is doubtful, the desire to leave traces behind seems absurd – Paul Bowles – Too Far From Home: Selected Writing of, 1993 p484

The big white pick-up truck backed into a black car – kabang! – you could hear it in here. Is that your black car, someone asked? Yes, she said, and rushed outside. The driver of the truck was contemplating driving off but now she realized that that was no longer an option.

Every community is established with a view to some good; for mankind always acts in order to obtain that which they think good – Aristotle – The Politics – Book 1

It is time to start work on “I smell teen religion” wherein I visit the Catholic Churches of San Francisco from the largest to the smallest. I start with St Mary’s. I tell Neil that I am starting with St Mary’s today. It is cold and just dead inside, he says. But it’s my favorite one of the lot, I say. He goes back to his newspaper. He holds up the sports page - he never reads the sports - they have a great headline in here, he says - when I had first entered the café this morning  I also had taken of that headline -  “Rhodes squalor. A’s stumble in 10”. It’s a pun, he announces. “Rhodes Scholar”. Rhodes is a player he tells me to make sure that I had gotten his meaning.

You renounce society, but to do so you must first be part of it, learn your decision from it. This is the paradox of retreat – – Michael Ondaatje – Anil’s Ghost, 2000 p103

I turned and asked Neil, “So when you remember the same thing twice, are you remembering the acutal event or are you remembering the last time that you remembered the incident?” I can remember my office and then I can remember my office again, he says. It depends on whether you are referring to a thing or an event. An event, I reply. It’s like a word in the dictionary. You go to the dictionary and find the word. Later you go back to the same dictionary and find the same word again. Oh, I say, are you sure? No, he replies. Neil leaves announcing that “it’s time to be responsible”, meaning that he is off to work, something I no longer worry about. I once was able to remember my office, but now I can't - maybe I should look up the word "office" in the dictionary.

If we have fought / across the fields of absurdity / we have fought our cunning / fought a real army whose / perfected barracks are houses for the beaten and the dulled – Thom Gunn [Collected Poems] 1994 p342

There is a 90% chance that an individual on the federal terrorism watch list will be allowed to purchase a gun or explosives even after having undergone a background check

It is the advocates of “intelligent design” and of similar drivel who have difficulty contending with design flaw. Biologists understand that because there is no designer, flaws are to be expected… If, however, a divine designer were responsible, then she must be either incompetent, indifferent, lazy, or, on occasion, downright malign – David P Barash – How Women Got Their Curves – 2009 p129

SUMMER DRESSES


Those pink enameled adjustments clasps
         On the black straps of the bra
That clasps her small breasts
That bronzed bare back except for
         Those black shoulder straps
That held up that flimsy black shift smoothly
         Curving around those shaven underarms
A hint of hair there is a reminder of her pubes
And your desire to participate in her function
          As purveyor of creation
A lack thereof means that your aesthetic
          Appreciation can be pure
You and your innocent pecker
A sapper tunneling underground
           For a greater cause

The world is out of whack and men individually are out of whack – Henry Miller – The Wisdom to the Heart, 1960r p163