me and julio down by the schoolyard

Man, it's great having a TV again. Now I can watch movies while working, which means that I actually got stuff done tonight instead of driving myself crazy by listening to 'Melt the Sugar' (my latest song obsession) on constant repeat while reading gossip columns on the web. I watched a double-header of 'Napoleon Dynamite' and 'The Royal Tenenbaums' while catching up on my work emails, playing with my calendar for the coming week, and doing some desultory analysis of stuff. I may despise the pit that American home-life has sunk into, since it would be so much nicer if we all still got together with our neighbors to play canasta and bridge (I *love* canasta, but I have never played bridge, because Americans are too socially isolated to play bridge). But, I'm enough of a hypocrite to believe that my television is the best thing since sliced bread.

I finally rolled out of bed after noon today, as promised in my last blog entry. I read some New York Times articles and mindlessly surfed the web for awhile, then shook myself out of my laziness and ran some errands. First, I picked up a painting that I had had framed--it looks gorgeous, and I can't wait to figure out how to hang it up. I bought the painting in South Africa, and I love it even more now that it's properly stretched and framed. I dropped it off at my apartment since it was taking up the entire length of the backseat, then went to the Container Store, where I procured several large plastic drawers for my closet. I also stopped by Crate and Barrel, where I only browsed, much to my own shock; the lines were too long to be effective, and I've reached the point where there's so much stuff that I want at Crate and Barrel that it's smarter for me to never pick up a shopping basket at all. I'll break down one of these days, though, so expect Crate and Barrel's fourth-quarter earnings to rise sharply.

Now I should go to bed, so that I can go to work tomorrow and start the week on the right foot. I'm currently feeling more positive about my corporate whoredom--probably because it enabled me to buy a TV and contemplate buying more furniture for my apartment. I need to stop being such a dutiful little consumer, but I like to say that I'm doing it for my country and fueling the economy. I also need to do my writing class assignments for this week, but that's a good project for tomorrow night, when I also need to do laundry. Now I shall leave you with a poem; I thought of it because I had emailed Walter to receive confirmation that he wasn't dead, but while talking with him, decided that I probably would have known because his father would have let me know, or at least posted a poem about it. This was the first poem that sprung to mind when I thought of senseless deaths of young men; enjoy!


Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen,

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

8 October 1917 - March, 1918

1 DULCE ET DECORUM EST - the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean "It is sweet and right." The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country