I’ve been struck lately by how difficult it is to communicate in the “communing” sense of that word—how miraculous it is when two or more people actually manage to share an idea, to get excited about the same thing, maybe only for a minute.
We all came out from behind our trees like were were ambushing the Redcoats and let our eggs fly. CRACK CRACKCRACK. Three out of five, not bad.
On our Cultural Differences handout, there was no missing the only sentence written in all capitals: NOTHING IS STABLE. YOU CANNOT PLAN.
Say what you will about jam bands and hippies—Phish fans have enthusiasm. More than the music, more than the thrill of seeing famous performers, I liked the concert for its energy.
I lingered over the sultry sweetness of that slice of pie…and then had peach pie and hot black coffee for breakfast three mornings in a row.
I’m not calling for a retreat into idealism. That said, I do see the merits of altruism. So what if it isn’t practical or realistic or the way things work?
I had been camping once in my life, the summer after graduating from high school. I went with a few friends and contributed by helping hold the tent up after it fell down.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Real writing, writing that involves careful feats of attentiveness, helps us discover not simply one opinion or another about the way things are, but rather it helps us realize the way things ought to be.
