6.29 mail  

it brings nothing so regularly as pleas for money from both noble and ignoble organizations. they do not know that i have next to none to give. though i will renew for Amnesty International. just because.

it brings a box from amazon.com that today contains Bruccoli's F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby: A Literary Reference - 321 pages of everything Gatsby. some day soon it will bring The Velvet Underground 1969 Live. i do have a few bucks for these extravagances. and i know i have no right to them.

it brings a wedding invitation to the wedding of my nephew. i love him and wish them the best, but i will not be going to the wedding. because.

it brings catalogues for all kinds of elitist book crap from Levingers, and great remainders from Daedalus, and impossibilities from Club Mac. this present old shoe of a G3 333MHz has been holding up its bulbous blueberry butt for some time now. just a little over three years. it's way passe´. but i've grown accustomed to its face.

it brings magazines. it brings Double Take and Film Comment and The American Poetry Review and The Threepenny Review. but it has not yet brought my first issue of the Oxford American which has been a long time coming.

it brings a jury summons from the 19th Judicial Circuit Court of Illinois at Lake County Illinois for the week of July 29, 2002. what did i do to deserve this? isn't that just the most typical reaction to this news? first response: no, i gotta get out of this somehow. then, no, there's no way to get out of this. then, this is the worst possible time. then, no it's not, you moron. it's summer, yr doing nothing nothing and more nothing. it's actually perfect timing. then, how the hell do i get to waukegan i've never been to waukegan. then, i hope i get some really cool trial that lasts less than a week and i get to mete out justice to some really bad guy who gets my number and sends his cronies out for some payback and i end up lying dead as the mulch beneath the petals of my mostly pathetic roses. civic duty.

it brings a driver's license renewal form which doesn't say anything about renewing through the mail like last time and requires that i travel to an actual drivers license outpost to pay ten bucks, prove that i need glasses, and get another bad picture took.

it brings news from my carmelite brothers. sometimes. but nothing much lately.

it brings a reminder from the opthalmologist that it's time for a look-see, a reminder from the jiffy lube that it's time for an oil change, and soon the vet.

it almost never brings personal greetings from friends. at certain times it brings christmas and birthday wishes from some. and that is fine and good and much more than i deserve. and then there's my excellent sister-in-law who's relentless in commemorating valentines, halloween and st. patrick's day and easter and thanksgiving and what all with these nice cards that no longer contain that shiney fallout in the shape of tiny shamrocks or hearts or half-eaten turkey legs.

and now the fee goes up to .37, of which i have nothing to say. i will pay it. and so will you. just because.

moon dust


And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart.
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

W. H. Auden

talk to me

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