Summer Rant

Monday, 1 July 2002

my writ­ing has started to change in many sub­tle ways. it is be­com­ing less rigid in struc­ture and less angst filled in con­tent. per­haps i am fi­nally get­ting a sense of per­spec­tive and a use­ful out­let for what­ever wis­dom i have gained dur­ing my time on this mor­tal coil. only prob­lem is, i still don’t know if it is good or not. i tried to set up an ap­point­ment with one of the eng­lish profs but i found the sec­re­tary to be un­help­ful and rude. she told me to do it on my own. why per­chance is she a sec­re­tary ex­cept to fa­cil­i­tate and di­rect traf­fic through her de­part­ment?

i com­plain too much.

july is here. fire­crack­ers and heat. grasshop­pers and fire­flies. bratwurst and home­made ice cream. my un­cle in a hawai­ian shirt run­ning away from an il­le­gal fire­work that catches the whole stock­pile of black­pow­der beauty on fire. Dante’s Inferno never had it so good. vodka ton­ics. dogs pant­ing in the shade. heat waves and the hot smell of oil from a burned out lawn­mower. pink lemon­ade. sen­tence frag­ments. too hot to say more. grey­bearded thun­der­storms. rain and hail. wind. corn­stalks shoul­der high by the fourth of july. cows chew­ing their cuds wait­ing for some grain from the farmer. pigs wal­ler­ing in their sties to keep cool. walleye and perch. sit­ting on a boat all day. no con­ver­sa­tion with grandpa. it’ll scare the fish. zen fish­ing. tree fish­ing. log salmon. diet coke and baloney&mustard sam­miches on white bread. maybe i’ll have fresh fish tonight. grease spat­ter­ing my legs. sit­ting on the porch watch­ing the evening wake up the rab­bits and rac­coons. pop­si­cles and ice cream sand­wiches. splash­ing through the creek. hid­den forts. ticks and chig­gers. the sound of a bea­gle rab­bit hunt­ing. char­coal and bon­fires. too short too long. un­pre­served un­mit­i­gated. please pass the salt.