holden_caulfield

DAILY HOLDEN-O-METER: Holden. . .read and highlighted another geography chapter today--only three more left, one per day, before the exam on Saturday. This chapter was easier reading, for some reason. Perhaps eating fewer calories and talking a little nap is doing Holden some good. He only wishes that his scale would show that (and his exam grade to boot).

Walking was cold today. Holden wore his black Reebok running suit and suffered through a windy day. Luckily, the radio reception was better than usual. Perhaps the clouds were enhancing the signal. It is supposed to be warmer tomorrow.

Holden took a short one to two hour nap, not disturbed by his cell phone, which could have indicated a quick call to work, considering that Holden was on call for volleyball officiating tonight. Holden received a new work contract in the mail today. (He checked his P.O. Box). He verified it, signed it and faxed it back to HQ, along with Holden's availability for the upcoming 3rd and 4th grade basketball league on Saturdays. You should see third and fourth-graders try to play basketball. They can barely dribble and shoot. Holden has to stretch the rules a little just to let them play unemcumbered.

Holden called about his absentee ballot application for the upcoming election. He must call again between 9am and Noon, Wednesday or Friday.

Please welcome smithers_jones and quasi_sean to Holden's friends list.


Holden's Current Literary Contribution:


e.e. cummings, 1884-1962

my father moved through dooms of love
by e.e. cummings

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
--i say though hate were why men breathe--
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all