it's silver's birthday and while we were waiting for myrtle (who bought all the presents and made this perfect hand-drawn birthday card one could base an entire ultra-depression-proof park slope card boutique around) she played nina simone at full volume and we split a bottle of wine.
because i was drunk and hell bent to explain how i appreciated the infinite despite my bureaucratic trappings, i launched into this whole tirade on why i liked the music so much. what i ended up vaguely articulating (besides dumb shit like "that piano is bright fish skimming the ocean floor" or "she's an angel sent to remind us we're alive") was the idea of african rhythms searching for freedom within a western idiom. something i'd read once in a jazz text and have been trying to make my own ever since.
silver's commie response was that all people are searching for freedom within whatever imperfect system they've had the misfortune of existing into, and that while people are capable of the worst atrocities you could imagine, they're also it must be stressed capable of busting through their fuck-all cages to express their infinite contents, letting the totality of their beings shine forth in whatever milieu they happen to exist.
hopes for mr. obama.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
11.03.2008
10.30.2008
radio
We weren't sure if it was at 12:01 a.m. or 5:59, some time before we woke up for sure, but that day the radio broadcasted only good news. It was the kind of thing you noticed right away in the relieved tone of the announcers.
By the time we'd had our coffee my wife and I were feeling pretty good. The baby seemed to pick up on it as well and he just sat there, smiling. As an experiment we kept moving him to different positions to see if he'd get pissed but he just wouldn't stop smiling. Upside down, smile. Sideways, lying on his stomach, on top of the cat, sitting in the refrigerator. All smiles.
We kept switching stations but no matter where we looked we couldn't find bad news. On the conservative station a Mexican man had legally immigrated and gone on to success as CEO of an environmentally-friendly burger chain. On the lefty ones it was Hugo Chavez's birthday and he was unstoppable, giving out free kittens for each of the world's citizens, postage paid. NPR was doing a 24-hour Car Talk marathon. In sports, the Phillies had won the World Series.
The news was so good that I worried we might be hallucinating. At lunch I asked my wife to feel my chest, which had this strange new feeling, kind of queasy, kind of nervous, but it made me smile. I asked my wife what it was. "That's hope, honey," she said, like talking to an toddler. But she was still smiling too.
By 3 p.m. we were happier than our first date and the neighbors had stopped by and we were all sharing stories. You could picture the radio waves going out all over the place, like friendly ghosts.
That night the kid fell asleep early and she and I made spaghetti and lit candles and talked to each other like real people, the radio still going in the background. When we went to bed the good news continued unabated and we went down to sleep knowing all was good in the world forever amen.
In the dead middle of the night my wife woke me up crying. In a minute we both were, then the pumpkin too. We switched the radio back on, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
By the time we'd had our coffee my wife and I were feeling pretty good. The baby seemed to pick up on it as well and he just sat there, smiling. As an experiment we kept moving him to different positions to see if he'd get pissed but he just wouldn't stop smiling. Upside down, smile. Sideways, lying on his stomach, on top of the cat, sitting in the refrigerator. All smiles.
We kept switching stations but no matter where we looked we couldn't find bad news. On the conservative station a Mexican man had legally immigrated and gone on to success as CEO of an environmentally-friendly burger chain. On the lefty ones it was Hugo Chavez's birthday and he was unstoppable, giving out free kittens for each of the world's citizens, postage paid. NPR was doing a 24-hour Car Talk marathon. In sports, the Phillies had won the World Series.
The news was so good that I worried we might be hallucinating. At lunch I asked my wife to feel my chest, which had this strange new feeling, kind of queasy, kind of nervous, but it made me smile. I asked my wife what it was. "That's hope, honey," she said, like talking to an toddler. But she was still smiling too.
By 3 p.m. we were happier than our first date and the neighbors had stopped by and we were all sharing stories. You could picture the radio waves going out all over the place, like friendly ghosts.
That night the kid fell asleep early and she and I made spaghetti and lit candles and talked to each other like real people, the radio still going in the background. When we went to bed the good news continued unabated and we went down to sleep knowing all was good in the world forever amen.
In the dead middle of the night my wife woke me up crying. In a minute we both were, then the pumpkin too. We switched the radio back on, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
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