Man lost his humanity at approximately that same point in history as cuspidors were becoming less common in saloons and other public spaces. A case of correlation, this, or causation? One can’t say for sure. With regard to the latter possibility, however, a notable point: the absence of that particular receptacle prevented gentlemen from spitting in disgust at the sight or mention of an atrocity.
It takes only a few minutes of fruitless searching for the misplaced car key before I’m prepared to surrender ownership of the car itself, if it means that I could also put an end to this peculiar and cunning brand of tedium. A tyranny worse than an actual tyrant could inflict, this looking. Because consider: where the arbitrary cruelty of a real tyrant allows one to cultivate righteous anger, the lost car key (and the mute, stupid automobile to which it belongs) serves only as a reminder of an unnerving truth — namely, that we are the foremost saboteurs of our own happiness.
“But, I just went to the taqueria for lunch today!”
I’m wary of anyone who describes himself as a storyteller. Like a colonial power, he exploits a natural resource — in this case, the inconsequential events which compose life itself — to an end he mistakenly and fiercely regards as virtuous.
Apropos my research on the ideal mobile plan for my family, it’s difficult to know what’s less pleasant: the horrifying banality of the task itself, or that it actually manages to please me.
In alphabetical order:
A Sarah Arvio reading represents an opportunity for strangers to gather into an audience for the purpose of being disregarded together.
Sarah Arvio’s poems reveal a mind as dull as Emily Dickinson’s Outlook calendar.
Sarah Arvio’s poems illustrate one possible result of a combination of privilege, ignorance and preening self-regard. Such concatenations are as common in America as folding chairs, fatness and discomfort.