Maybe I shouldn't be focussed on the whole "what is love" thing, for it is hate that is driving the car most of the time these days. Of course I'm speaking of the Hamas attack on Israelis. And others. They weren't all Israelis. That was no matter for a group who launches missiles from the roofs of schools and hospitals and then cries out over the hardships imposed in war on the Gaza Strip. In war, I guess you just have to choose a side. The U.S. is such a heterogeneous society now, though, its populace aren't all choosing the same one. Okey Dokey. I'm out. Y'all can just discuss this among yourselves. You don't want to hear my theories on this one. I'm with Kurtz from "The Heart of Darkness." Conrad nailed that one. There is no better depiction of the human heart and what it is capable of than that one .
Get ready, though. Winter is coming.
"It's a stupid, dangerous, hellish world. . . . But don't let it frighten you" (Hunter Thompson).
Sky laughs at my YouTube fetish. "Boomer. . . you said it," she says. But I call bullshit on that one. I watched this last night (link). You talk about hardship. But where else are you going to find things like this?
I don't blame people for not wanting to be gauchos. It is much better to be complaining about life's hardships from a group protest on Harvard campus. If you want to feel the painful crush of the world, that's the place to be.
I guess I'm infatuated with abstract nouns. "Truth, Beauty, and the American Way." Things of that nature.
"He thought about love and felt. . . ."
Jesus. Don't do that. Be concrete and use action verbs. You can use adjectives and adverbs, too, but be careful. You'll end up sounding like Dr. Thompson.
"The rock was grey and cold. His fingers could feel the cold but not the grey. He knew the texture of the rock by heart, but now it was only the cold, he thought, and there was that and there was the gray of the mountain."
That is my attempt at the "Best of Bad Hemingway. "
But Hemingway said it often and maybe best. War is just a metaphor for the atrocities that are taking place. "Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime," he said. "There were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity. Abstract words such as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene. . . . I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice and the expression in vain. We had heard them, on proclamations that were slapped up by billposters over other proclamations, now for a long time, and I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it. There were so many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity. Certain numbers were the same way and certain dates . . . ”
But, he concludes, "Once we have a war there is only one thing to do. It must be won. For defeat brings worse things than any that can ever happen in war."
I should stop. I should research Hemingway on love.
"We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and loved each other. . . . We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright."