Sometimes I wake up singing songs and I’m not sure where they came from. This morning it was “Sycamore” by Bill Callahan. It’s a pretty song and I didn’t mind having it linger in my head all afternoon.
There's sap in the trees if you tap 'em
There's blood on the seas if you map 'em
Christian, when I see your papa
I'll tell him you love him
And remember to love in the wild and
Fight in the gym
Thanks for the deluge of birthday wishes; I felt very loved this weekend. It is a nice thing to no longer be a teenager. When I was younger I assumed I’d have my life and career all lined up by this point, but I realized Saturday when talking with Guion that I am actually less sure about all of that than I’ve ever been. But perhaps it’s okay to let God take the reins? I’m still not so convinced, but I think I have to be.
This weather today is a special kind of miserable.
Because I have absolutely no self-control when I see a used book sale, today I bought a rain-flecked copy of Steinbeck’s The Winter of our Discontent. I have no idea what it’s about, but I generally like books with titles lifted from Shakespeare (three points to whoever can name the play). So I figure it’s a safe bargain.
I wanted to memorize the first lines of “The Waste Land” today and so I wrote them down on a slip of paper and read them as I walked to class in the light, cold rain. Catherine asked me what I had to memorize them for and I said for my own personal pleasure. “Oh,” she said, “because poetry’s so awesome?” Yes. Because poetry is so awesome. Rather appropriate lines, though. April is the cruellest month…
Cheney’s such a genius. In one word he captured the entire spirit of the Bush Administration:
- Our vice president, when told that two-thirds of Americans do not support the war in Iraq. (Quoted in this week’s issue of Time.)
I think God is more than happy to keep me feeble.
Hearing: “House Carpenter,” Nickel Creek, and the rush of rain
Reading: The Road, McCarthy; Hemingway’s short stories; Cummings and Levine
Smelling: the sweet and majestic lilies from Guion