Dear Lost Generation: let’s stay lost for at least a little while longer

14 Sep

You ever get the feeling that being “the lost generation” just isn’t that bad? And every now and then you hunt about for that ambition that made you want to be President in the 3rd grade and then realize that people who want to be President are batshit nuts? So you go back to knowing too much about Beyonce and Jay-Z.

I’m taking a few weeks to “work on my manuscript” before I cast about for something, decide on a direction, make moves (towards…a career? a job? a wealthy patron? a free ticket to ride?).

“Working on my manuscript” looks awfully similar to watching the dog watch the bugs jumping in the grass.

The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog

I never intended to have this life, believe me–
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they wag but can’t explain.

It’s good if you can accept your life– you’ll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look

Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve changed.

Sparrows in winter, if you’ve ever held one, all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you,

But you can’t quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He’s been hungry for miles,
Doesn’t particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in.

–Robert Bly, Morning Poems


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