Thursday, April 24, 2014

Let the dead bury the dead

Nothing pretty about the war between the North and the South, even if the monument to the very same (a stone's throw from my apartment) was decked out with a wreath this past Monday. Not being a holiday, I couldn't quite figure why it was there. Perhaps I simply missed something. 

Standing there, I thought of those cryptic words that were recorded as coming from the mouth of Jesus, who knew how to turn a phrase or two. 

"Let the dead bury the dead." 

Then I thought of James Joyce and old boyfriends. Stream of consciousness mind wanderings.

It's a nice monument even if I don't feel anything when I am standing in front of it. For that, you'd have to take me to the Vietnam Memorial which has a peculiar power all its own, one which was sought in the 9/11 memorial here in Gotham. I've been to the latter more than once, and find it unsettling, which may have everything to do with having lived through those events firsthand. 

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