Anyman Returns

After my last post disappeared in cyberspace and after a week of hard work, I return to search for an opportunity to regain my sanity. My last post was simply a reflection on Independence Day, the Star-Spangled Banner, America's and mankind affinities, and the notion patriotism in general. I refuse to attempt to recreate all those thoughts, and this is not the first time I have recorded several articulations only to have them lost forever in an abrupt and discouraging manner. This has most likely contributed to my absence from writing as well; however, these midsummer rants are somewhat therapeutic, and thus I will take advantage of this opportunity afforded me by my employers.

Well, my summer drones on, and the monotony has shoved me into a sort of melancholy. I seem to have grown tired of and conflicted with my home, with overwhelming desires to leave and not return. I've become slightly disenchanted with my family, embodying the Christian ideal of separation in order to fully engulf one's self in following. In Luke 14:26 Jesus states that "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple," according to King James. So much for love, I guess. Perhaps I've just reached a point in my life where I no longer desire the home my parents have made and wish to make one of my own. My only obstacle is money. My mother asked me why I don't like her anymore and treat her condescendingly like she doesn't exist. I don't know exactly why she posed this question; I suppose my apathy to her persistent attempts to make small talk with me insulted her. My opinion of her and her principles and ideals isn't exactly pristine as she has a skewed perception of truth and an extreme political perspective that interferes with her human relationships, including those with her family. She is by far the most conservative person of our kin, especially relative to her own siblings. I sympathize with the tragedies she has suffered during her life, including burying a child, miscarrying two others, and losing both parents at a relatively young age. I believe no greater there is no greater loss than one's own child, and although I should be thankful because I never would have existed without my brother Bentley's death, I don't believe my mother is free from fault as she so commonly declares herself. Many times I wish Bentley had lived in my place. Some times I've dedicated my life to him. It rarely lasts. I get caught up in vanity. It's hard to consistently live for the dead. I guess it's a paradox. I often remind myself of Bentley's passing to help myself cope with my mom's extreme and self-righteous behavior, but every time it gets harder. The tragedy of watching your own children pass away is what give Christianity such weight, in my opinion. The common perception of the religion is that Jesus' died to save humankind from sin. Who wouldn't? I understand there are people who are completely selfish, but to spend one unimaginably grueling day on the cross for all the hallelujahs of eternity is the easiest decision in the history of cost-benefit analysis. The righteousness belongs entirely to the Christian God, who sacrificed his only Son for the sake of man. It makes God's love very tangible to human beings who are wired to understand the pain of loss. I don't want to discredit Christ, as he introduced a plethora of love to the human race, but he was lucky enough to be chosen to be crucified and thus worshipped from that point forward. I'm not jealous, I just think that the more people you die for, e.g. the entirety of humanity, the less impressive the act is. When someone sacrifices himself or his children for one person, I suppose that is the greatest possible act of love. Bentley died, my father's vasectomy was reveresed, and my brother William and I were born. I'm not sure if I was planned, but I take no offense to being a surprise, a nice euphemism for an accident. Maybe if a child is unwanted, he reciprocates that emotion in his life. Perhaps there is some sort of correlation between unplanned births and crime rates. Stephen Levitt's research in Freakonomics reveals that the decrease in the crime rate can be credited to the ruling of the Roe v. Wade case. I'm not saying that I personally have criminal tendencies, but I do express a fair amount of disdain for this world. Maybe that's normal.

I wrote a poem this morning, so I will close with it:

Ritual

I stand, naked.
My daily baptism
Scours the remnants of
Yesterday's sin.
Instruments and formulas
Attempt to scrub away
Transgressions from this mouth.
A razor, not for suicide, but almost
Scrapes a day's proof that
I am human, animal.
Songs like prayers
Dissipate from transistor minarets
In heterophonic unison
The fasting ends
With this bread
And this cup.
We are lead into temptation
And delivered to evil.
Thought, word, deed
Slide through the drain
Tomorrow.

Matriotism

Independence Day has come and passed this year with its fair share of bombs bursting in air. I didn't get to see many fireworks, and still can't understand the fascination with the colorful explosions. Surely they appeal to some basic human instinct that demonstrates and affinity for climaxes. There's certainly something orgasmic about the ceremonial combustion, but like sex, it is both celebratory and violent. The Star-Spangled Banner was written about war and has become the sacred anthem of our nation. I suppose we simply love bombs. It's not obvious to me what is truly so fascinating about destruction. Perhaps it's the capability of detonating the world that gives us confidence and comfort that no one would fuck with Uncle Sam. I feel like using the song "America the Beautiful" would be a significant improvement, and while this seems irrelevant, the emblematic hymn of a nation unveils its true values to its own citizens and to the rest of the world. The lyrics are as follows:

O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare of freedom beat across the wilderness!
America! America! God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved in liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved and mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness and every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for halcyon skies, for amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties above the enameled plain!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee
Till souls wax fair as earth and air and music-hearted sea!

O beautiful for pilgrims feet, whose stem impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee
Till paths be wrought through wilds of thought by pilgrim foot and knee!

O beautiful for glory-tale of liberating strife
When once and twice, for man's avail men lavished precious life!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee
Till selfish gain no longer stain the banner of the free!

O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee
Till nobler men keep once again thy whiter jubilee!

Now, I know there are some redundant verses that we could probably abridge, and I think that Katherine Lee Bates' closing line could be edited due to the racial implications the word "whiter" has undertaken over the years, but the song focuses on what truly makes this country beautfil as oposed to Francis Scott Key's poem which glorifies our nations legacy of war:

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Yeah, I get that it's a great flag, but isn't a nation more than a symbolic piece of cloth. I guess that's a discussion for another time. But I still don't like that the poem is built around questions. I supposed it's nice if we're being reminded that citizens should always question their nation and it's leaders, but I'd rather be reminded of the firm foundations and principles upon which my country was built. Also, the tune that the poem is set to is a British drinking song called "To Anacreon in Heaven" the chorus of which is "And besides I'll instruct you, like me, to intwine the Myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's Vine." I mean, I know Americans love booze and sex, but they certainly aren't the values I want to be reminded of when trying to summon profound respect and patrotism. The song doesn't even mention our name! In the end, it's not that relevant and probably will never earn enough attention to change, but I just wanted to reflect on our nations obsession with blowin' shit up.

Patriotism is a difficult concept to digest, especially in the context of world peace. I know we're all born expected to love our motherlands or fatherlands, but is that as high as our loyalties go? What about religion? We're supposed to love our gods with every fiber of our existence, but when in life are we told to love human life above all else. We're so proned to categorize ourselves so immediately in life that it's almost a hopeless cause. Nationalism and it tennets are another divisive force. It seems that we only unite together to fight an outside enemy. In the World Cup, the Ivory Coast issued a cease-fire between the government and rebels, and truly competition draws people of the same demographic together cohesively to fuel their xenophobia and jingoism. I suppose the only way to expand that sentiment to a global context would be to fight an outside enemy of an extra-terrestrial nature. The seemingly unlikliness of this occurence does not bode well for John Lennon's dream of a world with "nothing to kill or die for." Unfortunately, as long as people thirst for the emotions that patriotism provides, we can only imagine.

Five Missing Days

So a severe undiagnosed infection took a handful of days out of my summer, the consequences of which are yet to be determined. The opporunity cost of missing work might not only infringe on my travel plans at the close of my summer, but it may also completely veto my plans to study in Europe this spring. What punishment for my ailment. With a cast including Amoxycilin, Prednisone, and Fluticasone Propionate, I should be able to abate the costly sickness. The symptoms were a real drag on my social life, including impairing my enjoyment of the Bela Fleck and the Flecktones concert, which was nonetheless fantastic. I also had to decline invitations to parties and miss some of the headliners at the Waterfront Blues Festival. The bacteria in my neck was consuming the utility out of my summer.

I feel well enough to work tomorrow. I figure it's only a four-day week and after all the hours I missed last week, I need to log as many as I can from here on out. It turns out I don't have very expensive taste, but rather, I spend a lot of time with people who do. The omnipresent discomfort derives from the distinct sources of their cashflow and my own. I don't judge people and their families if parents share their wealth freely with their children, but I find myself suffering financially when I spend time and money with those fortunate sons (and daughters). I guess I'm thankful for understanding how expensive and overpriced so many comodities are, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I can entertain myself on a low budget. Hell, you can drink java all night at Coffee Time up on Northeast 21st and Irving for under five dollars. Bring your buds and your friends for good conversation. I suppose I'll always be more of a saver than a spender; after all, money can grow, but possesions can't.

Well tomorrow is July third. A little Friday on a Monday. I plan to work, hopefully find time to exercise and reverse my emaciation, and meet up with childhood friends, one in particular with whom we shared our innocence and then several moments that buried that childlikeness (or was it childishness) in order to become experienced adults. He may lack vision and motivation, but he's a selfless person who can enjoy himself, and it's always nice to have someone help you remember your own existential history. I suppose it's strange to be talking about the past in reference to the future.