“Why Do
We Lie?” title of an essay
in a
student portfolio I am reading
to finish
up a semesters study.
My wife
wrote a history paper on
the Red
Army, spring semester of
‘61 and
we got married that August.
I turned
in the same essay on
existentialism
to courses in
Psychology,
Philosophy and Religion
and took
a job running a waterfront
on Lake Champlain the previous
summer.
I get
scraps and pieces of papers
from
other courses in my “Reading
In
Humanities” class because it’s
possible.
Sociology.
Biology, Environmental
Studies.
History. Variety of Mind
minding
mindfully manufacturing
news
& liberal arts.
John
Showalter just put-put-putted
by on his
green John Deer pulling
a wagon
full of prospective students.
It’s not
easy being green.
The
journey is the destination,
not the
destination. The writing,
not the
reading, the yearning,
the
media, the making of
the
movie—not the
movie.
Yes?
O the
Fading Bookocracy:
Horses
and buggies: books.
Dinosaurs.
Vestigial. Amish.
Dial
telephones & phone
booths. Pong.
Post Literate
cultural
lag. Anyway: books
galore
not with standing I’m
intellectual
& read them life
long and
never made me a
good man
crying out loud.
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