By Ron Padgett
It’s very easy to get.
Just keep living and you’ll find yourself
getting more and more of it.
You can keep it or pass it on,
but it’s a good idea to keep a small portion
for those nights when you’re feeling so good
you forget you’re human. Then drudge it up
and float down from the ceiling
that is covered with stars that glow in the dark
for the sole purpose of being beautiful for you,
and as you sink their beauty dims and goes out—
I mean it flies out the nearest door or window,
its whoosh raising the hair on your forearms.
If only your arms were green, you could have two small lawns!
But your arms are just there and you are kaput.
It’s all your fault, anyway, and it always has been—
the kind word you thought of saying but didn’t,
the appalling decline of human decency, global warming,
thermonuclear nightmares, your own small cowardice,
your stupid idea that you would live forever—
all tua culpa. John Phillip Sousa
invented the sousaphone, which is also your fault.
Its notes resound like monstrous ricochets.
But when you wake up your body
seems to fit fairly well, like a tailored suit,
and you don’t look too bad in the mirror.
Hi there, feller! Old feller, young feller, who cares?
Whoever it was who felt guilty last night,
to hell with him. That was then.
Alice came over Friday morning with boots for Maddy and we went out to lunch together at the mall so that Maddy could pick up the iPad she needs for school -- I had Cava, they had Wicked Waffle, then we went to the Apple Store, so we were all happy! When we came home I posted what will probably be my last-ever Voyager retro review, of "The Killing Game, Part II"; I thought about taking out the most critical paragraph to end on a happy note because I basically like the episode, but hey, complaining about the women's roles is as much my thing where this series is concerned as noting every scene pointing out what a crush Chakotay has on Janeway.
In the middle of the afternoon we drove to College Park to pick up Adam, who has Monday off since it's a state holiday so he figured he'd come home to see his grandparents and wait out the snow we're supposed to get (Christine is in the area too, though I'm not sure whether we'll see her). We had dinner with my parents while Maddy was at work. Then we came home and, in the course of discussing what to watch, discovered that Adam had never seen Apocalypse Now. I hadn't seen it in easily 30 years (and now I remember why -- I'd blocked out the water buffalo). Parts of it are very racist and other parts remain very relevant. From the National Zoo: