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Phony Suicide Hotline<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n At the dissertation defense, the psychology grad student is saying<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 that oxytocin is essential to feelings of social affiliation<\/p>\n and belongingness. What is social affiliation? I know what<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 oxytocin is; it\u2019s a hormone that plays a role in intimacy<\/p>\n <\/p>\n and social bonding and is not to be confused with either oxycontin,<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 a highly addictive drug, or oxycodone, which is essentially<\/p>\n the same as oxycontin yet is less addictive because it is usually<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 combined with something else. Is belongingness even a word? I do know<\/p>\n <\/p>\n that you don\u2019t have to know what social affiliation is to know<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 that if you don\u2019t have it, you\u2019re in trouble. When she was younger<\/p>\n and filled with despair, a friend of mine walked till she found<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 a pay phone and called the suicide hotline, only it turned out to be<\/p>\n <\/p>\n a tape and not a hotline at all but a religious scam: a voice says,<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cLife is full of troubled waters\u201d and then urges you to go to church.<\/p>\n That\u2019s not affiliation. Nor is it belongingness, though it would be<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 were you to walk home and hide your sharp objects and sleeping pills<\/p>\n <\/p>\n and wait for Sunday to roll around and put on your church clothes<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 and go to church, though how could you do that if you\u2019d killed yourself<\/p>\n already? If you asked two lovers pulling the sheets up after sex<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 like sailors hauling in a mainsail what affiliation is, they\u2019d look at you<\/p>\n <\/p>\n as though you were an escapee from a mental institution<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 who\u2019d climbed through the window and watched as they<\/p>\n finished their frenzied coupling and then pulled up the bedclothes<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 to cover their cooling skin. And you\u2019d get a very different answer<\/p>\n <\/p>\n altogether if you asked serial killer Ted Bundy. His biographer,<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Ann Rule, had worked with Bundy earlier in Seattle when he was<\/p>\n a law student, and she said there was something that was very odd,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 which is that she always brought her dog to work,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n and the dog, who was friendly to everyone else, kept its distance<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 from Ted\u2014he was the only person the dog didn\u2019t seem to like<\/p>\n or trust. Ann Rule\u2019s dog was probably just perplexed:<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 he knew Ted Bundy wasn\u2019t a man but an animal, yet he didn\u2019t look<\/p>\n <\/p>\n like an animal. It\u2019s been years since my friend wanted to kill herself.<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 She finished her education, got a good job, married a man<\/p>\n who loves her. Now she tells the story about the phony suicide<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 hotline at parties, and everyone laughs, my friend loudest of all.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n What the Great Poets Say About Love<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI would my love could kill thee,\u201d says Swinburne in \u201cAnactoria.\u201d<\/p>\n I wonder what he meant by that. I could find out if I actually<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 read the poem, but it\u2019s well over 300 lines. I like short poems,<\/p>\n don\u2019t you? Also, what\u2019s with the \u201cthee\u201d? Scholars think<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAnactoria\u201d may have been written in 1863, by which<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 time I\u2019m pretty sure people were saying \u201cyou\u201d when they were<\/p>\n referring to the person standing in front of them, or at least<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Walt Whitman did. Whitman! Now there\u2019s somebody who<\/p>\n knew a lot about love, probably because he didn\u2019t seem to<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 have a lot of it in his life\u2014well, the cosmic mystical double<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 whammy woo-woo juju kind, yeah, but not the kissy<\/p>\n cuddly kind. For that, you have to go to, I don\u2019t know,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Allen Ginsberg, who lived in a day when you could talk about<\/p>\n that kind of thing more freely. Actually, the poet who<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 may have known the most about love is George Herbert,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 who tells us that \u201cquick-eyed Love\u201d beckoned him, yet he<\/p>\n drew back because he felt himself so unkind, so ungrateful<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 that he wasn\u2019t worthy to even look upon Love, who tells him,<\/p>\n \u201cWho made the eyes but I?\u201d and he keeps protesting,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and finally Love tells him to sit and \u201ctaste my meat,\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and he says, \u201cSo I did sit and eat.\u201d Thing is,<\/p>\n when you really love somebody, you really<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 do want to kill them or at least you want to pull<\/p>\n their flesh off in handfuls and stuff it down<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 your gullet, but only if you could do that<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and still have the person appear before you<\/p>\n unharmed once you\u2019ve had a chance to rest up<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and get ready to devour them again. That\u2019s the thing that\u2019s<\/p>\n baffling and irritating about love, that makes<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 us come back to it again and again, try to get it right.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Grumpy Old Woman<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Florence. Or Rome\u2014really, anywhere in Italy<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 She\u2019s everywhere in this city: I see her behind a cash register,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ironing some\u00a0 guy\u2019s shirt in a doorway, sweeping the courtyard.<\/p>\n She\u2019s grumpy already, and if I say \u201cBuon giorno!\u201d to her,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 she\u2019ll look up, scowl, turn grumpier still. I blame her husband,<\/p>\n who was probably mean to her while he was alive and then<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 did her the disservice of dying before he could mend his ways<\/p>\n or she could take her revenge. Or it could be her children,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 the ungrateful parasites. Who wants to get pregnant? I know,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 plenty of women, but just as many don\u2019t, yet they meet some<\/p>\n careless fellow, and there you have it. How I love the angels<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 in the great paintings who tell Mary she is with child, some<\/p>\n as pushy as door-to-door salesmen and others contorting their<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 bodies like wrestlers, trying to get under the guard of a woman<\/p>\n who just wants to sit in her garden, read her book, nibble<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 her apricots, and drink her tea without taking on the problems<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 of the whole fucking world. And if Mary looks mildly pissed,<\/p>\n there are plenty of other women who are out of their minds<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 with rage: look at the Judith in Artemisia Gentileschi\u2019s painting,<\/p>\n cutting off the head of Holofernes\u2014girl\u2019s sawing<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 away as her maidservant caresses the tyrant as though<\/p>\n he\u2019d just had a mani-pedi and were settling down for<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 a shampoo and a light trim. Judith\u2019s mad about something\u2014<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 mad about everything, probably. And who can blame her?<\/p>\n For centuries the church fathers have been telling women<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 they\u2019re temptresses, they\u2019re bad just for walking down<\/p>\n the street, for looking pretty, for smiling, for saying hello<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and also for not saying hello because either way they make<\/p>\n men mad, make them do things they wouldn\u2019t do otherwise,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 women are horrible, they\u2019re everything that\u2019s wrong<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 with this world, don\u2019t blame me, I didn\u2019t do it, they did,<\/p>\n it\u2019s their fault. Men, we can do better. Men, look into the face<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 of your grumpy old woman. Novelist Ursula K. Le Guin<\/p>\n tells that the tired old faces we see in paintings delight us<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 because they show beauty that is not skin-deep but life-deep,<\/p>\n and if that is true for a work of art, how much truer must<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 it be for your Luisa, your Francesca, your Gemma, Gina,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Beatrice. You were Adam once, and she Eve, and there<\/p>\n was a garden, and a snake, sure, but there\u2019s always a snake,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and here\u2019s the road that leads from that garden to this world,<\/p>\n which isn\u2019t worse, really, just different, and you have to<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 work now, but there\u2019s something about work that satisfies you<\/p>\n deeply: you\u2019re making things that people want, and if<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 your boss is a little stern, he smiles at you from time<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 to time, and you sense that he sees something in you<\/p>\n that you don\u2019t even see in yourself, and you like<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Tommaso and Michele, the guys you work with, and nobody<\/p>\n liked Andrea, but he\u2019s gone now, and if the hours are long,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 the pay is good, and when you come home, there she is,<\/p>\n and you have your whole lives ahead of you.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n To an Athlete Dying Young<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Three tall young women all but trample me as I walk<\/p>\n across campus, so vigorously are they horsing about\u2014<\/p>\n punching each other, whooping, receiving greetings<\/p>\n from passersby and returning same\u2014and I think,<\/p>\n volleyball players, and then, how glorious to be<\/p>\n a top athlete, to give your body directions and have it<\/p>\n obey instantly or just after, should the situation call for it,<\/p>\n as when the forward fake-pumps the ball to confuse<\/p>\n his or her opponent and only then flips it through<\/p>\n the net. Or when the fullback crosses the goal line, say,<\/p>\n though not before gesturing with his head toward<\/p>\n the snack stand, as though to suggest to his would-be<\/p>\n tackler, \u201cI hear it\u2019s two-for-one quesadillas today\u2014<\/p>\n how about I treat you?\u201d Housman wrote of these things.<\/p>\n In the poem for which my own poem is named, he writes,<\/p>\n \u201cThe time you won your town the race \/ We chaired you<\/p>\n through the market-place; \/ Man and boy stood cheering by,<\/p>\n And home we brought you shoulder-high.\u201d Later,<\/p>\n the same people bear the runner though the streets again,<\/p>\n only dead this time. Housman seems to think that\u2019s<\/p>\n a good idea: \u201cSmart lad,\u201d he says, \u201cto slip betimes away<\/p>\n From fields where glory does not stay.\u201d And maybe<\/p>\n it\u2019d be better not to become famous; then you wouldn\u2019t<\/p>\n have to worry about dying on time. Last week, a student<\/p>\n read a poem asking whether you\u2019d rather watch<\/p>\n your parents have sex every day for a year or participate<\/p>\n with them just once, and someone else asks if suicide<\/p>\n could be a third option, and the student says no,<\/p>\n because everybody would choose suicide. One person<\/p>\n says she\u2019d jump right in and get it over with, but another<\/p>\n says no, then you\u2019d suffer forever from PTSD, and yet<\/p>\n another student says, yeah, Parental Trisexual Stress<\/p>\n Disorder. Don\u2019t die, athletes! Don\u2019t die, anybody.<\/p>\n Oh, go ahead: it\u2019s not as though you have a whole lot<\/p>\n of choice in the matter. Circus performer Mario<\/p>\n \u201cThe Human Cannonball\u201d Zacchini said that flying<\/p>\n isn\u2019t the hard part, landing in the net is. Fly, athletes!<\/p>\n We all land in the net. Not everybody flies.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n I\u2019m Gonna Stomp Your Guts Out<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n After the wedding, I play I\u2019m Gonna Stomp Your Guts Out! with<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 half a dozen amped-up kids, which is easy: all you<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 have to do is shout, \u201cI\u2019m gonna stomp your guts out!\u201d and then<\/p>\n the other players shout, \u201cI\u2019m gonna stomp your guts out!\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and then you growl and make a face and start<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 stomping everybody\u2019s guts out. What fun! Everybody knows<\/p>\n <\/p>\n exactly what to do. In a 1986 study at the University of Pennsylvania,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 students were asked to put labels reading \u201csucrose\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and \u201csodium cyanide (poison)\u201d on two identical bowls<\/p>\n of sugar, and even though the students could put either<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 label on either bowl, once they\u2019d labeled them,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 they were reluctant to sweeten their coffee or tea with sugar<\/p>\n <\/p>\n from the one that they\u2019d just labeled poison. Silly students!<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I would have done the same, though. Who knows whether<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 something might have happened in the interim to alter<\/p>\n the chemical composition of the two substances,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 even though that interim would have been less<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 than the time it took you to read this line. Salman Rushdie<\/p>\n <\/p>\n says there is something lost in translation but something<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 gained as well. Fun, for example: when my student<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Nick Sturm tells me that sometimes he thinks<\/p>\n of William Carlos Williams as Tom Waits and T. S. Eliot<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 as the Eagles, I laugh so hard I almost wet my<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 pants. To equate Dr. Williams with the Grammy Award-winning<\/p>\n <\/p>\n singer\/songwriter whose voice, according to one critic,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 sounds as though it was \u201csoaked in a vat of bourbon,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months,<\/p>\n and then taken outside and run over with a car\u201d is a<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 great stroke, but to turn that brilliantined<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 stick-insect Eliot into both Don Henley and Glenn Frey<\/p>\n <\/p>\n as well as all the other Eagles is nothing less than a signal day<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 for American humor, also literary criticism. I myself<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 take on different names from time to time, imagining,<\/p>\n for example, that my first name is that of Arcangelo Corelli<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 as I finish my exercises and make a protein shake<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 while listening to that worthy\u2019s \u201cConcerto Grosso Opus 6<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Number 4.\u201d Archangel! Who among us would not be<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 a prodigy were not this his or her name, the fact<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 notwithstanding that there have been no doubt<\/p>\n many mediocre, not to mention downright incompetent,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Arcangelos in the history of our glorious if not<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 always totally stellar race. Still, may one not be Arcangelo at<\/p>\n <\/p>\n one moment and oneself at another, just as Winnie the Pooh\u2019s boat<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 is sometimes a Boat and sometimes more of an Accident,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 as he says, depending on whether he is on top of<\/p>\n or underneath it? Why, to go through life as oneself<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 seems like a kind of imprisonment imposed upon<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 temporarily inconvenienced noblemen or bosomy gypsy girls<\/p>\n <\/p>\n by a cruel despot in a medieval fable or allegory of some kind,<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 although in this case, the cruel despot who imposes<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 the terrible punishment would be you. After 20 minutes or so<\/p>\n of playing I\u2019m Gonna Stomp Your Guts out, the kids run off<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 to get more soda and cupcakes, but one little girl comes<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 back and says, \u201cI was just playing.\u201d \u201cI know,\u201d I say. \u201cI was, too.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" At the dissertation defense, the psychology grad student is saying that oxytocin is essential to feelings of social affiliation . . .<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4578","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4578","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4578"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4578\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4749,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4578\/revisions\/4749"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4578"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4578"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4578"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}