captains will be captains

 

“i can live with that.”
i can’t escape these words;
i don’t really want to.

 

their meaning is [like all meanings?] found within the whole of the system which contains them rather than in the words themselves. (they need a context[, he translates, roughly].)

in the last 15 minutes of one of my favorite films, these words are the great sigh which prepares our [anti]hero for climactic breathlessness. he has seen himself as the mess that he is and others have seen him likewise; it is his first honest moment.

 

it is the stillness

which finally apprehends

the delicate line

between striving to change -

to become different,

and living dishonestly -

as if you already are what you hope to become.

 

[he is ready to become because he has begun, in earnest, to be.]

 

if i have over-analyzed, may i appeal to postmodernity: i was not watching the film, but watching myself. and i was not writing about a film, perhaps, but… well, the same.

 

oh the places you’ll go

i took a day trip to the desert.
(don’t worry, i went with professionals.)

Out of [the desert],
into the Great Laugh of Mankind, and
I shake the dirt from my sandals as I run
(not so lucky as to’ve seen
the northern kingdom yet)

but there is a nearer kingdom which I have glimpsed.

…world without end, amen.

Bilinguiana

“HHHhhhh,” I sigh in the direction of my bearded roommate, “he sucks at being a guard.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” he says with a smile that confirms my sentiment.

“He only has one thing to do,” I continue, referencing the great football-kicker joke, “And that’s be a guard. And he sucks at it.” I am dialing my guard on the phone at the moment. “And this is not my fault. Know why it’s not my fault?”

Jason chuckles, and I take that as a “no, why?”

“Because getting the water to work isn’t a part of my job description.”

He has me there, “You didn’t read your job description before you came here. You don’t know whether it is or not.”

“No, I read it… just not before I came here. But I’ve read it now, and I know it’s not a part of my job.” I pause to allow both our thoughts to drift to the logical next step. “But you know who’s job description does include – Oh, keef ya Lamin, tamam?” I say to my guard who has just answered his phone. Jason chortles at my duplicity.

“Ay, walahi. Ya, Jewnie, insha’allah kwayis.” I am apparently “Jewnie” in Arabic.

“Hamdulillah”, yeah… except for the whole water thing, ahem. “Ya zol, eyndi mushkila. Al moya ma fi, wa ana mashayt al motor wa fatahtaha wa lissa al moya ma fi, wa Fettishta layk. Inta wayn?”

“Al Habsha, A-Sharigi -”

I interrupt him, “Ya zol! Keef ya bitamshi bara? Lau fi mushkila kida wa ana fetish layk wa ma alga…tak” crap, i’m trying to talk too fast. “ya zol. amel shinu?” Both of us know that as a whole, what I just said doesn’t really make any sense, but he gets the gist of it, and I am justifiably indignant, since he has just admitted to being at a well-known restaurant named “Habesha” in a well-known part of town called “Sharigi” while i was paying him to watch my house and make sure that nothing [like the plumbing] breaks.

“Ya Jewnie, ana fi baladi. Fi Jezira. Jezira…” What? Crap. I misunderstood… somehow.

“Oh, ma`alesh, ma`alesh. OK, mnu al-haaris?” I say, still attempting to sound like my indignation still has a leg to stand on.

“A-zol tiht.” Well, if he keeps saying dumb things like that, then at least I feel better.

“Ma fi zol tiht. A-zol mnu?”

“Zol A-Habeshi!” He pauses, having now repeated himself on the most obvious point and lets it sink in. “A-Zol min Sharig. Huayjib moya fi-salaj layk.”

“OK, ma`alesh” still not completely understanding, but realizing that he can’t do much from where he is. “OK, shukran, habiibna. allahi barak fi.”
“Diik al afiya.”
“Ma`salaama.”
“Allahi sallimak.”

Jason looks at me. “Where is he?”

“He’s… in Jezira. He went home. But at first I thought he said he was at Habesha… oh no…”, I say as the words “Habeshi” and “Sharigi” flash into my head, and I suddenly understand the entire conversation. “…that Ethiopian guy is supposed to be the guard now.” I pause again. Obviously. He arrived today, I’d met him. “Yeah, ok, now it all makes sense. Man, this new guy sucks at being a guard.”