Why the Economic Stimulus Plan Sucks

I'm entering this conversation wicked late, and there's obviously nothing than can be done to stop the checks, but the stimulus plan sucks. I'm no economist, but it seems like a big fat waste of a huge amount of money: $145 BILLION! Most Americans will receive a few hundred dollars--over a thousand for some. And they'll buy stuff--maybe that they need, maybe that they don't. I'll use most of the money I receive to pay off some debt. I might buy a thing or two. But I can't get that figure out of my head: $145,000,000,000. What could the government do with that kind of cash, rather than offering micro band-aids to Americans to take their minds off an economic recession? Health care, maybe? Or the development of alternative energies--so that we can stop borrowing money to buy oil and maybe one day achieve energy independence, like Iceland and Sweden(booming economies). Like I said, I'm no economist: Stimulus issues; Much more awesome.

A Material, A Material, A Material, A Material World

There's no real substance or value in any of the words that follow. You have been forewarned. I watched the last twenty minutes of Mannequin last week. A real crap movie that demands a serious suspension of disbelief and leaves a lot of (meaningless) questions unanswered. But it costars Kim Cattrall, circa 1987, and in watching her for those twenty minutes or so I recalled the absolute fascination I had with her in this role. In this film, as the optimistic, selfless (if somewhat dim) ancient Egyptian princess, she is the most attractive woman in the world--to me. There are several such roles that I have identified for actresses and my adoration of them. In each case, there is an undefined, intangible quality or combination of qualities (physical, behavioral, temperamental) that makes that actress in that role irresistibly attractive. Other examples: Claire Forlani in Meet Joe Black; Rachel Weisz in About a Boy; Natalie Portman in Closer; Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's ; Katherine Ross in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid; Katie Holmes in Wonder Boys; Kate Beckinsale in Serendipity; Keira Knightly in Pride and Prejudice; Olivia Williams in Rushmore; Agnese Nano in Cinema Paradiso, Scarlet Johansson in Lost in Translation. And there are more I am sure--there's some Marisa Tomei role I am neglecting. Winona Ryder, too. The number of examples may seem to belie the singularity of the experience...but it doesn't.

Here Comes Tuesday

I like my job. Most days I really like my job. Teaching provides me the opportunity to interact with more than one hundred people each day. To talk, connect, debate, argue (everything's an argument), share, listen. [I had a conversation with a friend a few days ago about two different people: those who listen and those who wait to talk; for most of my life I've been waiting to talk--sometimes not even waiting really--but now I think I'm a listener--I strive to be a listener--everyone should strive for that. I try to push my thoughts (sometimes intentionally antithetical to my true beliefs about readin', writin', and livin') onto my students, just to elicit responses--to throw ideas about the room. But I listen, too. I used to be terrible with names--such a common expression: "I'm just terrible with names." No. You don't listen. Just listen and repeat. If you can't pay attention when someone's telling you a name, then you'll never get around to listening. This is one damn-long parenthetical, and I hadn't intended on didacticism, but this is where it's ended up. AndnowIchoosetoendthisheredigression. Wa. Bam.] Back to original thought: I like teaching. Me get to talk 'bout books. Me get to shoot shit. I never long for Fridays, nor do I dread Mondays. Well, Mondays can be somewhat tough to swallow--but nothing like when I was a student. Damn. Mondays s-u-c-k-e-d. And I loathed Sundays just because they preceded Mondays. They were like swallowing that regimental broom, bristles forward, that Henry Fleming talks about in The Red Badge of Courage. Don't mistake the literary allusion for adoration of Crane's overwritten (my opinion) book, but that analogy rocks. Walk up to a sword swallower and hand him a broom, bristles forward: Swallow this! Not gonna happen. Yes, so I like my job, but vacation kicks my job's ass any day. It is in the last lonely hours of a vacation when I dream of independent wealth. Not extravagant wealth. Just the ability to putz about on a daily basis. To read, to write, to listen (to music and people), to talk, to fiddle with stuff in the garage, to loaf, to be with my family. I few months ago I saw this piece on CBS Sunday Morning about idleness: Doing Nothing. Tom Lutz wrote a book about slacking. I listened to him talk about it on the program, but I haven't read the book. I have this problem about starting books, and I've already started too many to add this one to the pile. Perhaps someone else will read it and tell me about it. Well, the Monday after vacation is just about over. Here comes Tuesday.