Feels Like I've Had a Stroke (of Genius!)

Half face-frozen,
as if I've chosen
to be shot up like this.

They said they aimed
with the Novacaine,
but I'm pretty sure they missed.

So when they drilled,
making my tooth filled,
it rather raised my ire.

But my tongue's so heavy
that I cannot levy
the lawsuit I desire.

A Husband's Duty

When the exo-skeleton splinters
in the space beneath my fingernails
and the entrails seep through the Kleenex to my palm--

When I chase the spider, writhing,
and crush legs off with each frantic blow
(five, three, two maimed stumps, and finally a denuded, clutching torso)--

Then I say, dear wife, that my duty is performed,
and I have fulfilled your urge to murder.

Chemical Dependencies

So there's this organic farmer who walks up to a regular farmer (discernible by his common sense and sturdy practicality), and he says, "Hey, man, didn't Nancy Reagan ever tell you not to fix your problems with a chemical solution?"

Paranoia

I'm also thinking about a book again. Seems to me that most of life is pretty much ringed with fear-- fashioned with fear, even. The welfare state comes to mind, as does the fact that I wear clothes. Moreover, the critical/skeptical epistemological mode seems to me as also a product of fear: Descartes' project, after all, is rooted in a test of his faculties so that he can be sure that no supremely bad devil dude is tricking him out. The fact that modern philosophy won't settle for anything less than 100% certainty is symptomatic of its paranoia--a grim, settled fear that post-modernity wafts out of like a rat from a garbage can.

That's all a rabbit trail, of course, but it dovetails nicely with the whole seatbelt/insurance/retirement/government/metal detector thing that keeps us all freaked out enough to sacrifice liberty for a comfortable death.

My proposal? An aesthetic of trust. Believe me; it's beautiful.

Even though rats don't waft.

Civilities

Visited Gettysburg last week and started reading "Uncle Tom's Cabin" this morning. Tragic works, both. Actually, I'm shocked at how compassionate UTC is to the South and slaveholders. Much less so to the institution of slavery itself and the laws put into place to protect it. Guess she's practicing the old adage: hate the sin, love the sinner.

I'm sure there's a modern moral, here, but I'm not sure at what small crossroads town it'll all explode at.

I'll take "Revolution," for $500

Ever been to Monticello? Yeah, Jefferson was really hurting from that Stamp Tax. I guess it's the principle of the thing, though, eh? Which is why, for Jefferson, that the right of representation extends to everyone except that slave he got to shovel away the hill that was obstructing the view in front of his study.

Nirvana Achieved

I've felt, over the past few weeks, that reading the stark black-white contrast that formerly graced this blog was rather like enduring repeated mosquito bites to the right cornea. Hence the lotus-like transformation. My only hesitation now is whether the Bhagavad-Gita would approve.

Oh, who cares. No one, that's who. That's why I don't even have a question mark there. Do any humans really live by the Hindu holy text like some people pore over the Bible? Even Gandhi drew all his inspiration from the Bible and the poet Shelley (No, really! It's true! See? See?). As far as I can remember, the Gita talks a lot about some dude in a chariot who's battling for his family. Oh, and he has some sort of caste on.