I went off the tracks yesterday. I didn't leave the house. Didn't exercise. Didn't bathe. Had a beer at noon, and then. . . the heat, the tropical rainstorm. . . . I don't know. I started listening to music. A certain song by Aimee Mann, then another. I feel stupid to say it, but she is the best pop musician of her time, perhaps. Pop, I say.
I started thinking about the music of the late nineties and the early aughts, then about life and how it changed and where I was the very moment we left the 20th century and stepped into the 21st. I remember it very well, for as I wrote the next morning, I was looking back with melancholy and she was looking forward eagerly.
We rushed forward, the swirl of things. Perhaps I couldn't keep up.
Still, it was rich, that decade on either side of the centuries. I was happily married. My academic star was rising. I was divorced. I stumbled, but falling was delicious fun. I was one thing. Then I was another.
Yada, yada, yada. I will rewrite it all one day. It needs paring. I have about a billion words so far. Too much. I didn't leave anything out.
And yesterday became today.
The social scientist is challenging the scientist in his own backyard. Fauci finally speaks out about the White House attacks on his credibility. But here's the thing--the media turns science into a True/False proposition. I'll explain what I mean.
Yesterday, Q sent me a clever analogy one of his friends wrote about chess. In essence, it stated that a chess champion will beat an amateur 100 out of 100 times. So why do people who have little or no training in science think they can opine about science? Because they think the choices are binary.
"Do you think the virus will disappear when temperatures rise above 20 ℃?"
It is a 50/50 proposition. And if an idiot says "no," he later says, "See, I told you." Maybe he then thinks he knows more than the scientists.
But I am guessing that the don't give True/False tests in medical school. Rather. . .
“Explain the factors that are likely to increase or decrease the odds of infections rising when temperatures rise above 20 ℃.”
Now the idiots are stumped.
For some people, life is a True/False test. For others, they pay someone to take the SAT for them.
The papers are still following my blog. Today in CNN:
A new Monmouth poll shows presumptive Democratic nominee Joe Biden with a 13-point lead in Pennsylvania, making it yet another swing state with good polling news for the former VP. But it also seems that most Pennsylvanians are skeptical.
A majority (57%) believe there's a constituency of "secret Trump voters."
These people believe there are a number of so-called secret voters in their communities who support President Donald Trump but won't tell anyone about it, as Monmouth puts it.
A majority (57%) believe there's a constituency of "secret Trump voters."
These people believe there are a number of so-called secret voters in their communities who support President Donald Trump but won't tell anyone about it, as Monmouth puts it.
And of course, there is the "Biden isn't Trump" candidacy. Here's the weak endorsement by Al Franken:
He could have added, "and he won't be there very long."
Today will be different than yesterday. I will leave the house.
Maybe. It is tempting to stay in and mope around reshaping the past through the present, drinking beer and not showering, waiting on tomorrow in the musical flowing of hours, way leading to way, moment to moment, minute by minute. . . .
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"You feel the creature arching its back & galloping on, though as usual much is watery & flimsy & in too high a voice."
Virginia Woolf
Like sunburn on the cusp
of a long ago September
or hesitation in the wind
to move a season
beyond a boy with hazel eyes
caught biting
a granny smith apple.
Eve always takes the fall
for devils in leather jackets.
The ripe fruit
the scrapes & bruises. When desire,
is a honey-tongue
bee-stung, fire-breathing angel
sweet & vulnerable in the presence
of kittens and even rainbows.
Short skirts and child-birth
the slow death of one
then love again
rising from the dirt.
Writ 10 year ago.
I was writing last night - I thought I posted it on your blog post - about how I am a terrible, lazy, don't care about the rules writer. I rarely go back and edit. I don't really care. I guess.
I am not trying to write a book or be "published." I'm just trying to scratch something in the ether that might maybe make - at least one person - "feel" something.
ReplyDeleteAnd obviously - during those most precious of years - I wrote everything for T. I believe - I lived for him and he for me. He was my Entire Reason.
Outside of motherhood - which is its own time & place of the heart. Sacred. Don't fuck with that place. You will probably die or be severely maimed. It is separate from Eros love.
Tho not necessarily using the broader definition below:
"Eros has also been used in philosophy and psychology in a much wider sense, almost as an equivalent to "life energy".
art = love
love = art
And there are plenty of different kinds of Love.
It is possible I have already given that sermon here.
Lisa, Pastor
Church of the Alien Jesus
Okay. It was an early posting day today. I've taken Ma to the blood clinic. Cooked Hannah breakfast. Played with the dogs. Watered the garden. I'm hungry now. I'm thinking of a frittata of some type. Off to look at some recipes.
ReplyDeleteOh. I feel like I should leave the Benediction Song from that sermon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ssd3U_zicAI
Ok. Yea Yea Yea. I got stoned this morning more than my usual two hits. It's a beautiful day.
Elvis Costello? I was thinking more like Beth Orton, Whiskeytown, Wilco, Songs Ohia, Beck, etc.
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