Paris Attacks, Proust and Reflection


With no prescience but great coincidence, I started rereading Prout’s Swann’s Way on Thursday night, the night before the second major attack in Paris. I was present for the first attack in January, but this one has hit me with greater disbelief and sadness. Perhaps this is because I am not there and simply not in a state of shock. Perhaps this is because I have witnessed more indirectly but more explicitly through the eye of the social media storm that has descended beginning with the no-famous Vine clip of the Germany vs France football match with the explosion charging the atmosphere with a dark menace. Nevertheless, this time my insides are a-broil. I am angry. I want justice.

But this is precisely why reading Proust is so very timely. I do not need to act with immediacy, even if I feel it burning inside. I may feel like planting myself within France borders and standing in solidarity with the French people who I have been raised to admire—and I do feel this immensely—or I may feel like seeking extremist blood in the name of blood spilled and terror cast across the city of my dreams last night. I do not, we do not, need to do anything right away. The governments of the “free world” will be doing more now than they were before the attack. They are culpable, too, and they will feel their feet held to the fire.  We need to act upon reflection on the events. We need to look back on things with a gaze of wonder, curiosity, intelligence and speculation. We need, I need, to reflect and perhaps read Proust for a while and then come back to think about all that I have read and seen broadcast across the screens of world and then will the tricky business of figuring out what’s “right” here will begin. And it will continue.

Ultimately, it’s not inaction I am suggesting as a course of action. Just a wiser one. I can only hope that the governments of the Western world will follow suit.


Been a while. Got my MFA. Now what.

Collage poemI sort of gave up on blogging because I forgot I could blog. Between curriculum adventures and working towards my MFA, something had to go.  Needless to say, I have this collage poem to show for myself. And maybe even more. Other updates in the order they came to mind:

  1. My father’s hometown team IFK Norrköping won the league this year!
  2. Run the Jewels has surpassed all other hiphop acts to be my favorite for many reasons which are pretty obvious if you know anything about me and hiphop. If not, sorry.
  3. My father can no longer drive. : (
  4. My status went from “single” to “dating” to “single” to “dating” and back to “single.”
  5. There really seem to be no better and willing options for the top spot in Washington.
  6. It seems to have become more difficult to act with ethical will in 2015.

Anybody have any suggestions for organizing ones books which pile up and pile up?

Amherst, Juniper Institute

I arrived two days ago in Amherst, MA. Today I realized that my brain and about two-thirds of the items in it have been removed, but I found my intelligence even it remains up in the cloud, maybe iCloud. Shades of gray and white and crevasses of blue, blue, true blue. And in them, I will lose myself to find myself and I’ll fly the friendlier skies and land under the direction of air control tower full of wisdom from some great teacher/writers.