I was so much older then, I am younger than that now...

I have become convinced that the American soul is incredibly undernourished and see this as one of the most pressing policy concerns of the coming decades, if not the most pressing policy concern. I do not think hundreds of channels of TV or the proliferation of i-pods is going to do it. And no number of youtube videos or blogs can make up the deficit. We need a system over-hall. Jesus, I already sound like an old man. Maybe, but I see no other truth.

Economics and my heart

As always, Bellow puts it best...

Cities that I incorrectly assume are neighborhoods of New York City

-Baku

-Doha

-Lobamba

-Oslo

-Philadelphia

SAT Analogy

Barack Obama in March – “What exactly is this foreign policy expertise? Was [Hilary Clinton] negotiating treaties? Was she handling crises? The answer is no.”: Barack Obama in December “[Hilary Clinton] is an American of tremendous stature who will have my complete confidence, who knows many of the world's leaders, who will command respect in every capital…”

Me in March – “I sure hope this change motif is real.” : ?

A. Me in December - “Gosh, this change seems very much like something I’ve seen before.”

B. Me in December - “Thank god change is here. All that two-faced politicking was getting old.”

C. Me in December - “I wonder if this means McCain is really qualified for the office?”

D. Me in December - “I need another beer.”

But what units are the budget contraint in?

waiting to be inspired

...There are instances when I finally loose myself, moments where the narration in my head ceases, my ego stripped away, myself left bare and empty, filled anew with the words replanted from the page to my soul, bypassing translation and becoming fact, becoming me, filling my veins and capillaries with something new, something that I can stomach, something yet cancerous. That is why I read, for these infrequent transcendent moments where I find my foot tapping out some chthonic and primal rhythm, my body rocking in step, hovering over the page drinking it straight to my blood. Sadly, I find very little in current prose or poetry that fills this need. Recommendations to the contrary are welcome.