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mccarthyism

"memory takes a lot of poetic license. it omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart." :tennessee williams, "the glass menagerie"

11.12.2012


I’m really not sure who reads this page besides a few family members, and Cameron. It’s not important I don’t guess, but if you do and if you like it, you might like these songs. Felt and then the Clientele, from me to you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHCjynXbCJo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdkSLgzjuGY  

posted by ethan  # 11/12/2012 09:48:00 PM

11.03.2012


   
::Saturday, November 3::

Tired and off color this week. On Thursday I call in sick with aches and a sore throat and spend the day studying for the GRE subject test. If it’s not one thing it’s another. On Friday I wake up and go in manfully, feeling better as the day goes by.  I stay out too late and drink too much beer at practice Friday night and today I am listless and fuggy. Up in the gray morning to watch soccer, which is disappointing as Arsenal lose sluggishly at Old Trafford.

 I read Lowell and am mesmerized by “The Quaker Graveyard in Nantucket” and “For the Union Dead.” I prefer him in his younger pre-confessional phase. The “Quaker Graveyard” is astonishing, a real achievement, though a little too devastating. “The Lord survives the rainbow of his will.” A poem of its own place and time, which overreaches itself quite a bit. But I like that impulse in Lowell.  Also the “Union Dead,” a much simpler poem, with the right amounts of history and metaphor, observation and indignation. As frustrating and precocious as I find “Life Studies” I’m still drawn to him. He is a kind of bridge figure between the modernists and their capital I Ideas and the increasing subjectivity and self-reference of the latter decades. He could turn a phrase. Verbal magic. “You hove backward, rammed/Into your heirlooms.” Talking about the traumatic fistfight with his father. And the devastating “Beyond the Alps,” which talks about his early poetry and his lost faith - “Our mountain-climbing train had come to earth...”

 each backward, wasted Alp, a Parthenon,
fire-branded socket of the Cyclops' eye.
There were no tickets for that altitude

At lunchtime on Friday I read some good strong prayers and make an effort to be better at my job. It’s not a job I am particularly good at but it is my job and a privilege. I do love the kids and I wonder why we complain about them so much, as if they are somehow at fault.

I often look at the pictures from Aiden’s baptism, at his face and the stream of water. It is everything and everything and everything.
  

posted by ethan  # 11/03/2012 02:37:00 PM

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