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The sermon for Dec. 23, 2002 is: in lourdes


11:03 a.m. Dear Diary, How are you? I'm actually happy. Ecstatic! Okay, not ecstatic. But actually very content. Valerie is at home, doing my laundry, hee hee. And I've just come across this incredibly cool website -- something that mirrors my experience of the world so elegantly, I may as well give up sensual life. And this site links to 201 stories by Chekhov* on the web, which makes any workday flow by langourously like a dream. I'm happy. I'm content. Valerie moves out in a few weeks and I'll by unhappy and malcontent again; but as long as she's around, I shall not make complaint.

p.p.s. have you heard of this book? It's a collection of essays about the United States published by the Department of State, by 15 distinguished American writers (Michael Chabon, Sven Birkets, Robert Pinsky and Billy Collins among them), but publication within the actual United States is prohibited by the Smith-Mundt Act of 1948 (which prohibits "domestic dissemination of propaganda"). I heard about this from NPR, along with a reading of the first essay; NPR mentioned that the book is available online, but that the State Department felt it was in compliance with the Smith-Mundt Act because it "does not publicise the web address of the book."

Of course this meant that I had to find this book, especially if that meant I was breaking the law. Cue up Ramones music here.

Jonathan

*Anton Chekhov, the 19th century doctor and magister of the short story, not the ensign from "Star Trek," you knognog. ADDENDUM 3.36 PM I'd like to quote this wee bit from the current issue of "The New Yorker"'s theatre criticism (by John Lahr), since it doth strike a chord within me.

Reader, have you been betrayed in love? Injustice poisons the soul and, worse, the memory of love. The betrayer lives and owns a future; you, the forgotten, die the slow death of abandonment and humiliation, with just the inheritance of empty days. Out of powerlessness, you dream murderous thoughts. You have been demeaned and discarded; you want to plant pain in the other's heart, and watch it grow.

That's all. Hi there!


flip flop





Sept. 25, 2004
the Funny Show
Sept. 23, 2004
agriculture poem
Sept. 23, 2004
my life in the ghost of Bush
Sept. 18, 2004
time-lapsed (part 1)
Sept. 16, 2004
unreconciled
Goodbye present, hello past









Images are taken without permission from the fine and trusting folks at Folk Arts of Poland; please purchase something from them. Background music stolen without permission from Epitonic, Basta Music, and just about everywhere else my unscrupulous hands could grab something. No rights reserved.