Month: October 2017
The search for happiness is one of the chief sources of unhappiness. – Eric Hoffer

I read his book All I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten a long time ago. I remembered it as rather cornball, but I did remember it, which is something. I read something about this volume recently and decided to give it a try.
This one is pretty cornball as well, and formulaic, but I can’t say didn’t enjoy parts of it. The title come from a newspaper article, an interview with a guy, who when asked how his matteress got on fire, answers that it was already on fire when he lay down on it.
A couple stories stood out to me. The one about the driver instructor who was loved by his students because he just listened to them and tried to get to know them. Another good one was about his time at a Zen monastery. The head of the place reads to him this:
There is really nothing you must be.
And there is nothing you must do.
There is really nothing you must have.
And there is nothing you must know.
There is really nothing you must become.
However. It helps to understand that fire burns, and when it rains , the earth gets wet.
There was also the story about the Hunt Saboteur Association, whose purpose was to break up fox hunting events – often humorously – thereby saving foxes from death. The interesting point was that doing good can also be fun, it doesn’t have to be grim and hard work.
Advice to a Mad Prophet
by Richard Wilbur
A Chronic Condition
by Richard Wilbur
After the Last Bulletins
by Richard Wilbur
After the last bulletins the windows darken And the whole city founders readily and deep, Sliding on all its pillows To the thronged Atlantis of personal sleep, And the wind rises. The wind rises and bowls The day's litter of news in the alleys. Trash Tears itself on the railings, Soars and falls with a soft crash, Tumbles and soars again. Unruly flights Scamper the park, and taking a statue for dead Strike at the positive eyes, Batter and flap the stolid head And scratch the noble name. In empty lots Our journals spiral in a fierce noyade Of all we thought to think, Or caught in corners cramp and wad And twist our words. And some from gutters flail Their tatters at the tired patrolman's feet, Like all that fisted snow That cried beside his long retreat Damn you! damn you! to the emperor's horse's heels. Oh none too soon through the air white and dry Will the clear announcer's voice Beat like a dove, and you and I From the heart's anarch and responsible town Return by subway-mouth to life again, Bearing the morning papers, And cross the park where saintlike men, White and absorbed, with stick and bag remove The litter of the night, and footsteps rouse With confident morning sound The songbirds in the public boughs.
The Beautiful Changes
by Richard Wilbur
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies On water; it glides So from the walker, it turns Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes. The beautiful changes as a forest is changed By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it; As a mantis, arranged On a green leaf, grows Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows. Your hands hold roses always in a way that says They are not only yours; the beautiful changes In such kind ways, Wishing ever to sunder Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.
This Be The Verse
by Phillip Larkin
Fire and Ice
by Robert Frost
James A. Garfield – Ira Rutkow
Biography about Joey Gallo, mobster from NYC. Subject of the Dylan/Levy song, “Joey”. Levy actually new Gallo personally, back in the sixties when “mobster chic” was popular among the rich white privileged types. Morons.
Didn’t like the book at all really. Written in a hipster beat kind of way, I found the style annoying, and at times it was hard to follow.