Poem - Triumph

So something else I did while I wasn't posting was I finally finished watching The Sopranos.  That is what sort of started the whole thing, really, the writer's block.  I couldn't figure out exactly what to say about it.

The only thing more prodigious than the deli meats was the ample cleavage

It was one of the first things I started watching when I got my Kindle Fire in December 2014.  It took me over a year to get through it, the series running hot and cold with me, but always waiting to be picked up again like one of Tony's needy mistresses or a nice big plate of Gabbagool.

I never really did figure out exactly what to say.  But it, plus reading Mary Beard's SPQR, did inspire a poem.

So in honor of National Poetry Month, which has now worn down to its noble end, here is what I came up with.  First read at Word for Word Open Mic Night, Aroma's, Newport News.  Sometime in March, I think.

Triumph

382 days after having begun and

Nine years after the last episode aired,

I finally close the book on The Sopranos.

I feel like I’ve accomplished something;

86 Episodes, over 4600 minutes of sometimes

Brutal TV, digested like a bad meal from

Nuovo Vesuvio; rich, delicious, upsetting,

Hitting back with bilious acidity,

Leaving one retching with disgust yet

Somehow wanting more all the same.

In ancient days I’d demand a Triumph,

A parade through the streets showing off

Spoils from a long campaign while

Vestal Virgins toss heaps of Gabba-gool into

Throngs of adoring masses.

There stand statues from Jennifer Melfi’s

Office, nudes in German Impressionistic style,

Angular, intimidating, serving as a first warning

That behind the door they guard is a lousy,

Self-centered therapist. 

There is the body of Sal Bonpensiero,

The severed head of Ralph Ciffareto,

The pomade can of Paulie Walnuts Guiltierri,

The ghost of Christopher Moltisanti,

Seeking our sympathy, asking to

Nevermind a life of casual brutality

Cut short in kind. 

And there’s me!  Sitting in my chariot,

Covered in glory, clad in a well tailored suit,

Two of many nameless strippers from the Bada Bing

Standing behind me in topless tableau holding

Wreathes of cigarettes and whisky over my head,

Whispering in my ear over and over again

“You are just a man.

You are just a man.

You are just a man, and you’ve accomplished nothing.”

In Which Nick Plays Catch-up

Wow!  A whole month has gone by without a new blog post!  Crikey Jean that is bad!

It's not like I haven't had anything to talk about.  I've been reading books, I've been watching the news, I've rejoiced in the beginning of Baseball season and the Orioles fast start, which I think is too good to last.  I've chided friends for drinking beer with ice (travesty!) and all the while slowly developing a plan to take over Canada which, in Donald Trump like fashion, I think they are just going to let us do after an honorable exchange of gunfire.  Except for the Quebecois...

So I may as well catch you up on what I have been thinking about the past month.  If you are getting ready to be wowed with incredibly revelations....well, prepared to be disappointed.

I finished Watching House of Cards
In one of my last posts I waxed rhapsodic about season four of House of Cards.  It felt like the show was back to its old self now that Claire and Frank Underwood had declared open season on each other after separating at the end of season three.

It didn't last.  Talk about a story of two halves!  While the first half of the season was incredibly fun to watch, the back end was horrible, I thought.  Claire becomes Frank's running mate during a contested election (in which, naturally, the Underwoods manage to make sure Claire wins in an underhanded way).  Still they are losing a re-election bid to who I think is the governor of New York.  And of course Frank is sort of lobbing bombs at some terrorist group in the middle east that is like ISIS but with different initials, but as the polls continues to suffer home-grown radicals kidnap some people and Frank uses that to goad the nation into total war against terrorism.  As one of the people is beheaded by the kidnappers the Underwoods broadcast it to the nature, which has echos of things that Milosevic used to do to get the Serbs hot under the collar to go fight the Croats or the Albanians (violent films and soft core porn, according to War is a Force that Gives us Meaning  by Chris Hedges).  The Underwoods hope is that the war will win them the election, bringing the nation together.  One almost thinks they orchestrated the whole kidnapping themselves.

Its hard to know why they do all this.  Power for the sake of power's sake?  Naked ambition?  Frank Underwood is dying before our eyes, it's not like his time as POTUS is actually doing him any favors.  And yet the carry on.  There will be a fifth and maybe sixth season.  But my patience is not limited....I may have say fare thee well to the Underwoods.

I read SPQR by Mary Beard
Lately as I have been reading books, particularly non-fiction ones, I have been looking for the one thing in the book I will always remember. For SPQR it is the fact that before 117 AD all the Roman Emperors are clean shaven (though I did find a picture of Nero where he has chin straps), but then suddenly with the Emperor Hadrian all the emperors have full beards.  No one knows why.  Mary Beard doesn't know why, and I don't know why.

THOUGH - I like to think that Hadrian, perhaps on campaign in the north, grew a beard to keep his face warm and forgot to shave on the day that his picture was taken.

Interestingly, if you look at the Wikipedia list of of Roman Emperors,  they all are shown with beards until the Emperor Geta in 209 AD.  Why the switch back?  Maybe his wife had something to do with it...

I saw Eye in the Sky
It was really good!  It really turns over all the questions of the ethics of war (and the ethics of drone strikes in particular) in a very compelling way.  In a nutshell, the British have been following this terrorist (a British citizen) who has made her way to Africa and is helping some group to carry out suicide bombings.  They have actionable intelligence that she in such and such a place and that she is readying two young men for suicide missions (they have a drone the size of a bug inside the house she is in).  But outside the house is a child selling bread.

What do you do?  Most of the military people in the movie want to strike and hope that the girl survives, reasoning that if they do kill the girl they will also kill the suicide bombers and therefore save the lives of many more people.  But the civilians watching, high level British officials who also have to okay the strike, are torn. They don't want to take a chance killing the girl, and make some legitimate arguments for not doing so.

And that is what is great about the movie.  I don't think it really leads to you what the right answer is.  It offers some complexity to a situation in which I think many of us who have never had to make such decisions have an answer that we are sure is right.  This movie suggest that maybe you are wrong.

The only thing I don't like about the movie is when the British try to get American input into the situation.  They contact the Secretary of State and he's like "Yeah, do it, whatever".  The Attorney General is also very sure that the strike is right.  I suppose the British think we are just a bunch of cowboys....

The Election is Really, Really Boring.
When will it be over?

Prince Died.
Yes he did.  I honestly was surprised by the outpouring of emotion that occurred after his death was announced.  I think he's a good musician, but I never considered myself a fan.

But that isn't it....I guess it's social media.  Someone dies, they are famous.  Famous people feel compelled to make a statement about how great that person was, and then the rest of us common folk see it and we get all wrapped up in a big giant sugar ball of emotion.

I wonder what would happen if someone famous I cared more about died suddenly.  Say....Dave Grohl perhaps, or Nikki Giovanni.  Would I expect the same outpouring of emotion?  Would I want to see it?  Would I too turn to social media and post my remembrances, just in an effort to touch a moment and be with others even if it is only digitally?

Maybe I would.  Maybe.

Well, that's about all for now. Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things...though I suppose for a month, the world survived without my two cents.