As I first noted here, the following epic poem is technically Dadaist, not Surrealist. For the history of my multi-hour solo post-Thanksgiving-meal cleanup, please see here. As with 2021, despite there being only only five of us (my wife Nell and I, our two daughters and the cousin, an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister, who officiated … Continue reading Surrealist Epic Post-Thanksgiving Poem, 2022 Edition
I begin with a correction: the following epic poem is technically Dadaist, not Surrealist. Two years ago…well, two years ago everything was different. Outside of places like the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (“CDC”) and the National Institutes of Health (“NIH”), almost nobody had ever heard of COVID-19. The race for the 2020 Democratic … Continue reading Another Surrealist Epic Post-Thanksgiving Poem
I rarely break the fourth wall here: personal stories I tell are usually contextualized within some larger theme, like interrogating memory. Today, however, I speak directly to you – to explain why, after 16 posts in 3½ months, I have not posted since June 25. I will not, however, explain why I did not post … Continue reading Moving, Non-Publication…and Dada?
I have described elsewhere how my wife Nell, our two daughters—one in 4th grade and one in 6th grade—and I were already coping with social distancing and the closure of the public schools in Brookline, Massachusetts until at least April 7, 2020. Besides staying inside as much as possible, we converted our dining room into … Continue reading Dispatches from Brookline: Home Schooling and Social Distancing IX
Since we first started hosting Thanksgiving dinner in, I believe, 2012, I have been responsible for the epic cleanup. As with all good rituals, it started as a one-off: I put Nell and the girls to bed and said good night to the last of our guests to leave with the understanding I would finish … Continue reading A Surrealist Epic Post-Thanksgiving Poem
There are very few persons, places or things I outright despise. One of those rare things is St. Valentine’s Day (despite my fascination with what happened that day in Chicago, IL in 1929). I generally believe that cynicism is toxic—but I am irredeemably cynical about this “Hallmark holiday.” My objection to the holiday was originally … Continue reading Choosing the funny and the absurd…