Wednesday, May 08, 2019

mmdccclii

And, I might just add, a real treat knowing you.
                                              —John Ashbery

I like to start out by

by saying these things;
by saying something,
at least.  I start out
by saying a lot and I
end up saying way 
too much, but one
has to start some-
where—if one wants
a connection at all,
I suppose.  And, to
bring it home, my 
one ongoing crisis 
of faith involves 
finding these con-
nections of grave 
importance; while,
unfortunately, all
too often comp-
letely losing them,
one by one by one).  
So it’s a big deal to
me, these kernels
of engagement,
and where they
go. Even though
attempting to be-
gin one is all too
often a bit like 
easing  slowly in-
to a very cool lake 
on an overly warm
spring morning (say
in Arkansas, for
example, since
I also tend to start 
my connection just
talking about me
and what I know,
listening a bit,
then comparing
what I just heard
to me and what I
know—which, can
be a total turn-
off, it seems, but
what else do I know
know but myself?  If
I’m an expert at any-
thing (at least as far
as expert can take
you; but being an
apprentice at know-
ing oneself sounds
like a pretty sad
joke, doesn’t it?)
A cool lake.  A
warm spring
morning.  Per-
haps it’s Cove
Lake.  Again,
I speak most-
ly of what I
know. May-
be?  I do hap-
pen to believe 
that it’s a good
habit to know
yourself as best
as you can.  Any-
way, in compar-
ison to a cold dip
in a lake, I’ve never 
once been surfing.  
At least not that
I know of. And I
can say pretty ass-
uredly that I never 
will.  It seems so
excruciating and
so tedious.  Which
isn’t, I think, a very
good combination for
a self-proclaimed hed-
onist (self-procloma-
tion being, again, 
supposedly).  Why
do things that
are so much
work, like, say,
eating lobster,
for example. What
I know—or think I
know—about my
self.  However, 
as I almost nev-
er actually say:
never say never.

never say never