poeM oF thE daY

The truth is
that almost everything we did yesterday,
almost everything we'll do today,
and almost everything we'll do tomorrow
falls into one of two categories:
that which allows our bodies to continue to survive
and that which distracts us from the meaningless movement from  
     one empty moment to another.
Our lives are no richer than those of peasants in the middle ages
or cave dwellers in more ancient times.
We may be warmer and fatter and have longer lives,
but we do exactly as they did: 
maintain the body and distract the mind.

And maybe that's okay. 
But it also makes me wonder, 
is suicide the only thing we can do which actually has meaning?
Is that great refusal to continue with this sham existence
the only way to let one's spirit take control,
the only way to lay claim to dignity and 
if not create meaning
at least deny that meaninglessness controls you?

 has 

poeM oF thE daY

I was cleaning out the litter pan today
When I caught the odor of cheeseburgers.

Now, I'm okay with the idea that my cats's shit smells like cheeseburgers . . . 

. . . but if cheeseburgers smell like my cats's shit, that's going to be a problem. 

poeM oF thE daY

What I Didn't Do Today

or yesterday

or the day before yesterday

or the day before the day before yesterday

and only did a little bit on the day before that

but before that had done every day since September 2009

and many of the days before that as well.

and how do I feel?

my teeth feel like they're made of glass

the thin, cheap kind that will shatter against 

the faucet if you're not careful when washing dishes

and

there's a warm ball of barbed wire at the base of my neck

and another one nestled into the base of my spine

and

my muscles all feel attenuated

so to answer your question,
not so good

I keep feeling like I forgot to do something important
or like my best friend has just died
or like my doctor just told me I have three days to live
I have such a wealth of dread
and my lips are tingling, ears ringing, eyes blurry
and I really wish that I had had a cigarette today

But I didn't.

generatioN oF viperS

I can already see that it's going to be hard not to go way overboard on The Quoting from this book . . . but here are a few from early on that must be disseminated . . . or at least preserved:

" . . . Hercules had to shovel a lot of manure before he was promoted."
(33-34)

"No student of ancient history can doubt that in man today are the same impulses which burned in him millennia ago."
(34)

"[Christ's] efforts were to make people try to be more conscious of who and what they were, and to live according to the wisdom stemming from that increase of consciousness."
(36)

philiP wyliE

Half-Price Books, of course.  Saw this cover . . . 

. . . and--well, what the hell do you think I did, for Christ's sake?  Of course I picked it up.  Read the first few pages and liked the cut of this Wylie fellow's jib--a pretty sharp sort of jib, if that's imaginable--&, cautious consumer that I am, found a nice chair and settled in for a good look before parting with my $5 (American).  Didn't need to look long before I knew that this Philip Wylie was My Kind of Guy.  Matter of fact, I'd rate him up there as one of the biggest smartasses of all time.  (I hope I don't need to explain that that's a compliment.)  

So I put down my $5.30 and went home and settled in for a read.  It was a good read.  I kept itching to write down lines that struck my fancy, but I was also driven to keep reading, so I told my fancy to just wait.  Now I'm 70 pages in, and I had to go on eBay to look fo' so' mo' of this PW-Dog.  And I was in luck and found a lot of 11 books for a mere $38:

Tomorrow!

The Spy Who Spoke Porpoise 

The Best of Crunch and Des

The Innocent Ambassadors

An Essay on Morals

Opus 21

Generation of Vipers

The Disapperance

When Worlds Collide

After Worlds Collide

The Answer

I'm particularly looking forward to reading Generation of Vipers.

I also found out that works by Wylie inspired the creation of

Superman

Doc Savage

&

Flash Gordon.

Not too damn bad, eh?

I am ready to open the Louisville Chapter of The Philip Wylie Appreciation League right now.

Who's with me?

Here's a little bit of Finnley Wren to help you make your decision:

-->

“It takes six years or more of learning Latin by rote to reach the blushing discovery that Terrence wrote slightly salacious plays.  And by that time, the plays are salacious for it has long been impossible to think of sex as amusing in any aspect whatever.  It is a wonder the brains of little girls and boys do not grow smooth as putty balls, their vaginas heal over (since they are regarded as sores) and their penises drop off (because they are made to seem like ugly tumors).  Some day—some day—if all medieval back-facing is not erased from our society—if we do not begin to contemplate facts and to admit that the truth is exciting and provocative—our fair nation will be overwhelmed and salt sown upon its moldy ruin.  A healthy race will take our property.  And our epitaph will be “Here lies America, stillborn in the little red schoolhouse.”  Or maybe—“Here lies a great nation, slain by Cinderella, Santa Claus, and the Stork.”

(page 105)