April 2nd, 2013 § Comments Off on Slomped § permalink
Driving the bus. 4 minutes down on my third trip of the day. The 4th trip at 8:30 can be crazy on a Tuesday. All the kids go to their Tuesday classes, I guess. I say to myself, “I better pick up these 4 minutes or I’m going to get slomped.”
“Slomped.” Where did that come from? I thought about it for a few seconds and figured it must have been some kind of a synthesizing double elision between “slammed” and “stomped”. I thought about John Lennon’s advice to George Harrison about finding the right word for a lyric – “you just keep saying the line over and over and saying whatever comes to mind in the empty place.”
Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like a rutabega
I thought of Pete Maravich’s game when no one, least of all Pistol Pete, knew what physical genius was about to instantiate.
Stevie Wonder’s melisma. Charlie Parker’s phrasing.
And then I thought, “hey, I bet my elision was actually between ‘slammed’ and ‘swamped’.” I hadn’t even had immediate access to my own thought processes in retrospect.
Take a flyer.
Trust the universes to provide for the completion of the gesture.
Embark upon the worthy gesture at a moments notice.
This morning a metaphor for our current battle to include a Robust Public Option in the President’s health insurance plan struck me. Have a look at these lines from Walt Whitman’s The Battle of the Bonhomme Richard and the Serapis.
Our frigate takes fire,
The other asks if we demand quarter?
If our colors are struck and the fighting done?
Now I laugh content for I hear the voice of my little captain,
We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our
part of the fighting.
President Obama, we are ready to fight for your health plan if it contains a Robust Public Option. Most of us Americans are sick and tired of having our lives lorded over by Corporations, much as the American colonists with whom John Paul Jones was fighting in 1779 were sick and tired of having their lives lorded over by the British.
This is really where we’re at, isn’t it? Either we are Sovereign Citizens or we are just little pansy Consumers, and all this noise about Democracy and being represented in Congress is just a Potemkin village, a soporific, a farce to keep us pacified while the Big Bosses have their way with us.
What’s it going to be, America?
Serene stands the little captain,
He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low,
His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns.
Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us.