-- e e cummings
Who also made this poem.I've long thought that apart from comics, combining words and visuals is a woefully underused art form. There is so much potential there. Alfred Bester, genial SF writer, is one of the few I know of who went there.
10 comments:
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.
A mouse tells Alice a story which is oddly perceived (and therefore written) because Alice is focusing too much on the mouse's tail.
I am careful not to waste a single day! :-)
You could say Alice had trouble listening to the mouse's tail. (^_^)
~~(_:> <:_)~~ [Two mice chatting]
I thought cummings was some pr0n actor.
No, you're thinking of I. M. Cumming.
What a coincidence, isn't it?
That a guy who would become a movie stallion received such an aptonym at birth. Gee, what were the odds?
;o)
Say, did this actor ever shoot in partnership with U. R. Gowen?
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
-- e e cummings
then many a day the world's population has wasted their time. it's hard to laugh in the face of poverty and hunger, disease, war, famine, manipulation, theives, beggars, polititions, lawbreakers, rapers, gangs, prisoners on death row, cancer patients, lying doctors and nurses, the ama thugs, the list is endless.
truth be known alice was in a wonderland of cocaine and heroin.
she was under the influence of drugs and alcohol.
I am careful not to waste a single day! :-)
what do you do on your off days missy? hand orchids out to kids who are dying in the ghettos? i mean really? do you contribute to the cause of world peace or what?
i'm not trying to be funny here either missy. tell me? enlighten me.
my cousin was just gunned down the other day because he was a bi-racial kid who was walking down the street alone wearing the wrong color of clothing and was mistaken for a gang member in nyc.
Okay, Tell The Truth, I feel you deserve an honest and serious answer.
First things first, I am sincerely sorry for your cousin. I can imagine how this would inspire you incredulity toward my comment and attitude. Nobody has the right to demand that you laugh.
Indeed, there are days when one's heart really isn't into laughing. And overcoming or assimilating one's grief is also a very useful way to employ one's time. Sometimes, success at this will eventually bring a faint smile which is among the most beautiful I know of.
I should point out that I'm not a "missy". I bear the Y chromosome. Strange, how I get that quiproquo all the time...
So, you're wondering what pink cloud my ivory tower is built on. Well, it's called Lebanon, of all places. I grew up here, for all of the civil war that started in 1975. If I wanted to choose being glum, it would be darn easy, and nobody would dare blame me, but I made the choice of optimism. The very first day of the war nearly became the last one for my whole family, myself included. But some angel was very vigilant at his/her post that day. This was only the first of a long series of close calls, sometimes very close. And it's not over today: I avoided by pure chance being in a bombed bus a few weeks ago. It's almost a routine happening in this small country of mine.
But so what? Every time the Reaper misses us, we should think of the day when our turn comes for good? We all die some day, it only happens once, and until that deadline (pun intended) I sure intend to savour every bite of life. Because, if you think about it, you value best what you have when you came close to losing it. Heck, nobody can live for ever!
Last week, I took the decision to shave my dear goatee, even though I find it classy, because it gave me a style that's uncautious these days, with the nation-wide paranoia about islamist bombers. What happened to your cousin (I'm of mixed origins too) could very well have happened to me, more than once. Including that garden I once strolled across, not knowing it contained hundreds of mines. Good thing I'm a very lousy aim!
The bottom line is: you're in a tough moment of your life, that's perfectly normal, and I'd be a heel not to fully respect that. But remember this: life is about living. You live best when you enjoy that priceless God-given present of simply being alive, every moment of it. Yesterday, with my parents, we had a crazy laughing fit over something as dumb as making a bed. It's a daily attitude. And I'll tell you this: it feels perhaps even better when you know your future is completely unsure. Life will end some day. I'm making sure I'll have no regrets about mine when the time comes. I'll never say, looking back: "My time is up, and I wasted so many opportunities when I still had the chance to enjoy it."
It would feel, in a way, like being ungrateful for the gift that God made to us. The best moment of my life is always the Present.
I won't claim I'm some Mother Teresa, or Nelson Mandela, or even as deserving as one of those thousand humanitarian workers who risk their hide to help others in need. I was born neither with a silver spoon in my mouth, nor with a steel ball tied to my ankle like the slave children in Bengladesh. I don't deserve a statue for discovering Penicillin or defeating Hitler. But when an occasion presents itself, I always try to bring something positive to this world, no matter how small the gesture. I could do more. We all could. But I know too many people who do much less, with no real excuse.
A smile is not always an insult to the suffering of others. It can also be a tribute, a comfort.
Georges Brassens once wrote a song, dedicated to those who had brought comfort to his sometimes difficult life. A part of it said:
"This song is for you, stranger,
Who once, in all simplicity,
Gave me a sorry smile,
When the police arrested me.
Because you did not applause with the crowd
Of fine-thinking people,
Who cheered at seeing me taken away.
It was just a bit of honey,
But it warmed my heart that day,
And in my soul, it still shines
Like a magnificent sun.
To you, stranger, when you die,
And when the undertaker takes you away,
May he lead you, across the sky,
To the Eternal Father."
[For the record, he was arrested for stealing food when he was hungry.]
The rest of the song equally thanks a man who opened his house to him in the winter, and a woman who gave him bread.
I laugh, sure. But I don't mock. Except myself, because it's very healthy.
And I've done my best to bring comfort to several dying people, during the years I worked in a hospital. Incidentally, the work was perhaps worse than that of an illegal alien in the USA: in spite of my Med School diploma, I was treated like crap by the superiors and management, paid $300 a month for a workload of 100 hours a week, etc. And in spite of all that, my mates were constantly amazed at my unfaltering optimism. I came to work in the morning, singing, and when it made them fall on the floor with laughter, I knew we could all have had it worse. We could have been depressive. I infuriate adversity by not giving it a grip. Why keep smiling? Well, because I could, it's that simple.
I made nothing but friends among my peers and my patients. Not just by laughing. Sometimes by smiling to comfort. I never hated my life, no way. Not while I can make the best of it.
I once had a very loved cat, who died a most painful death from cancer. I was devastated at the time. Today, I honor his memory by recalling all the good times we had together, and heartily laughing at the memory of his wild antics, which were many. His illness and death were relatively brief. His life with us was many many years. And it is fondly remembered, as I feel it should be. And as I hope to be remembered after I depart too. With a smile.
Best to you in your time of hardship. I hope you will find peace, and a spirit of harmony in your life. Remember, you can only do your best, not save the world. This has to be enough for you, my friend.
Say, Eolake, does the shape of this Cummings poem represent anything in particular? I can't make it out.
I didn't find anything either.
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