Lately, Wednesday might as well be any other day of the week. Too many days for me are becoming inter-changeable, with the main difference in being where I choose to eat dinner. Tonight was The Peoples' Pub, yesterday the Old Town, and Monday, well, then I went to Zayda Buddy's, where I can happily say they now have an 8" pizza which works for one. I do with that more than dinner differentiated my days, but that is what things have been reduced to. The passion of youth burned up in charging to the moon and paying off that trip before I hit 35. The next round of passion and energy just doesn't seem to have arrived, and life is holding onto the the steady drone of bi-weekly paychecks and regular hours, all the while making me wonder what I have done wrong. How can people not remember the passion of youth, when the world was going to change and the greatest minds of our generation were not going to stare blankly in the mirror wondering what happened, but were going to create that something, and maybe they have, but instead of poets and artists the greatest minds of this generation are coders and entertainment people, if this is the case, then they have succeeded in refocusing the gaze of the masses in ways which would appall the artists, not of old, but of 40 years ago. Life's zest denied by debt and then silly perceived necessity of maintaining a job.
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BTW--You've been, sadly, one of the more edited-out presences in print lately--you were in my Sarajevo poem, and Don thought that there should just be one person in it, and in Chicago, you were brought up by (nick)name during the interview with Adam Zagajewski (by Theresa Smith!) in the last couple of questions--the part that got edited out--she says I was talking about Pez earlier, so you might sneak in there after all. I don't see where you are, though.
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