I wake up overwhelmed
with love. Time slows.
I hear each beating of
the wings on a hummingbird.
at 2:30 a.m. to flick the cockroaches scuttling
along the low wall on the front edge of the roof
onto traffic on Charles Street below
This intensity, this buildup
of noise—Help us! —an echo of an old human
refrain through the mad and fucked up timbres
of our human history.
Clothed in my cheap JC Penny’s suit, holding a bible, sitting on a container of disinfectant that smells like murder, like what they’d use to clean the war machine of … Continue reading
Humanity fluctuates with power, morality, and truth. There’s more than one way to be objectified.
Perhaps the horrors of 2020—the fires and hurricanes, Trump’s vicious attacks on democracy, the death, sickness, and economic dislocation caused by Covid-19—can force a real conversation about national security in 2021. Maybe this time we can finally ask whether trying to prop up a dying empire actually makes us—or indeed the world—any safer.
While Fussell wrote on a wide variety of subjects over his long life—ranging from Augustan humanism, Samuel Johnson, and Kingsley Amis to the 2nd Amendment, the Indianapolis 500, and travel in between-the-wars Europe—war, the irony of war, the suffering and lunacy and permanent damage of war, the unfairness of war, lay at the heart of his writing and of his being.