Busy pitching, as if that is going to save me from the seismic stress I have placed on myself in battling such an entrenched corporate model. I may not survive this fight with Presby, and despite their continuous verbal and formal threats which have remained inert, under about 5 managers, I have forced the company into being fearful that I'll litigate, and it's killing me, whatever it does to my current minority wardens. I should have focused on leaving Riverside after my mother's death, but I was reluctant to return to Delaware County. It is a hard truth, but nonetheless true, that my immediate family does not care about me. Throwing money at me is not familial support, and they do not visit me here-- because they fear the city's African American community-- and after what I've lived, they are justified in it. Senator Toomey's people were polite, as I predicted, but ignored the grist of my letter, basically indicting city corruption. In Toomey's calculus, it stands to reason that going after an independent living center's utter ineffectually applied paradigm is too hot to handle; I am struggling with how much I'm going to press this, and haven't made up my mind, but his staff did telephone me in 2012, or thereabouts, and I do have a crusade--I want to make it better for the next generation after me. I can't do that if I have a stroke going after the vested Protestant interest in the business of poverty, one of the subtexts Melville toyed with in our Victorian era, one which still binds us to him.
Moby Dick is a preeminent masterpiece, and I shall brook no argument from lazy flash fiction advocates!
But I'm still frightened, and need new living quarters.
Showing posts with label moby dick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moby dick. Show all posts
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Requiem, Third Movement
Emphysema at least offers the distraction of providing interesting observations while it kills you, like a long and slow poisoning by carbon monoxide. The attack I had yesterday, successfully contained, was particularly bad, and I am gradually being drowned in my own pus. I find this starkly amusing, and no counselor would lift me out of this otherwise, the attacks being fierce after Tim cleans; perhaps it is bleach fumes. I temporarily removed the air freshener, and believe I will get through the weekend without needing script for steroids or oxygen therapy. I should have stopped smoking at 19 when I puked in padre's bathroom from tonsillitis. Padre did not modify the bathroom very well.
Are there any decent families left in this country? A brief member of my Jerry-clique, a nursing student named Nancy Hoffel, was right. She argued with me about tobacco, and while I don't much care about life shortening effects in and of themselves, emphysema (or COPD, more likely, since I have always had episodes of bronchitis) has coruscating aspects, in unexpected ways. My mother's butch buddy has similar issues with COPD, and both Tim the assistant and custodial Mike have stage 1. I may be at stage 3 out of 5, if we play the medical lottery, but know my time is short, and my family just doesn't care in the sense of helping me make a move toward more tranquil resettlement.
I am looking for my damaged hard copy of Moby Dick. I want the foot notes of this great literary rip off. I have a digital copy, signifying how much I love this American epic, but want to plug my notes in the kindle, and will search again when the flush of my fever subsides. The novel needs to be read, and students need to take the effort, including the passages Melville lifts straight from the Essex tragedy, because Melville transforms this into the tragedy of the American destiny. It is our epic, and I brook no dissent from anyone on the matter. It speaks to us even in our contemporary matrix.
Huston's film with Peck, in my estimation, is the most faithful adaptation to Melville's intent, but there is no film that matches the breadth of Melville's narrative. I cannot work anymore right now; hopefully this will pass, but the episodes are progressive, and worsening, despite my willpower and fish oil and my luck with diet in lessening the worst impact of control issues.
Are there any decent families left in this country? A brief member of my Jerry-clique, a nursing student named Nancy Hoffel, was right. She argued with me about tobacco, and while I don't much care about life shortening effects in and of themselves, emphysema (or COPD, more likely, since I have always had episodes of bronchitis) has coruscating aspects, in unexpected ways. My mother's butch buddy has similar issues with COPD, and both Tim the assistant and custodial Mike have stage 1. I may be at stage 3 out of 5, if we play the medical lottery, but know my time is short, and my family just doesn't care in the sense of helping me make a move toward more tranquil resettlement.
I am looking for my damaged hard copy of Moby Dick. I want the foot notes of this great literary rip off. I have a digital copy, signifying how much I love this American epic, but want to plug my notes in the kindle, and will search again when the flush of my fever subsides. The novel needs to be read, and students need to take the effort, including the passages Melville lifts straight from the Essex tragedy, because Melville transforms this into the tragedy of the American destiny. It is our epic, and I brook no dissent from anyone on the matter. It speaks to us even in our contemporary matrix.
Huston's film with Peck, in my estimation, is the most faithful adaptation to Melville's intent, but there is no film that matches the breadth of Melville's narrative. I cannot work anymore right now; hopefully this will pass, but the episodes are progressive, and worsening, despite my willpower and fish oil and my luck with diet in lessening the worst impact of control issues.
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