When did I become an amanuensis
of my own? If only I were a Boomer,
I’d have charged a few shillings per page
back in the day—now it’s all self-
procrastination for a bowl of noodles.
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Tag: social commentary
Bag of wind
Is it a matter of writing implements that we write more
to say less, or—with the power of large numbers in play—
do we have to face the truth that we have always been
the blabbering sort, only back then largely confined
to a tavern and a church porch?
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Semantic noise
They said he wasn’t an alcoholic—
just an ordinary drunkard,
as if the distinction much differed
from the one between a lover’s quarrel
and the early morning banter
of seagulls.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
A contemporary slur
I am a jerk,
an arsehole,
a chauvinistic pig,
but I’m supposed to be—
I am a man, after all,
just another
testosterone junkie,
and I’m okay with that
as long as no one
calls out my pussy
as inadequate.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
The wittellectual
When the mind needs a change of scenery,
all you need is a camera obscura
and a list of rice cultivars,
or you can always expand your collection
of smooth utterances
like, ‘I recognise that nature is unforgiving,
but I would say that a butcher is a necessity,
while a zoo, a circus and a fishbowl are the harbingers
of the true cruelty’—after all, it requires impeccable table manners to swallow
your every l’esprit de l’escalier
without choking.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Simple living
En réalité le satanisme a gagné. Satan s’est fait ingénu. Le mal se connaissant était moins affreux et plus près de la guérison que le mal s’ignorant. G. Sand inférieure à de Sade.
Notes sur «Les liaisons dangereuses», Charles Baudelaire
My neighbour leads a life of studious regularity
and doesn’t mind if George Sand is inferior to de Sade,
as long as he can perch on the scroll finial of the church across the street
to catch his breath between feedings of his chicks.
If only I were a magpie.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
On war
‘War is nothing but a continuation of politics with the admixture of other means.’
Carl von Clausewitz, On War
We need children after war—
lots of them—
and so we need mothers and fathers.
…mothers and fathers…
Who would have thought: war—
a dating app,
available on all platforms.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Simple life
Charles Travelyan and his wife live in the country. They rise at six.
While Charles is shaving, his wife reads Ibsen aloud to him,
and while she’s doing her hair, he reads Bernard Shaw aloud to her.
They work till twelve, when they have a light vegetarian lunch;
they then walk over ploughed fields till six, when they have a light
vegetarian dinner. After dinner Charles Travelyan reads aloud
for an hour and a half, and at eight they go to bed.
This is supposed to be the simple life, but my private view is
that Charles Travelyan’s one object in doing it is to save money,
as he’s the heir to forty thousand pounds a year.*
And, as then, so now, there is nothing like simple life
with a six million pounds sterling price tag—in today’s currency—
to while away the time in the country.
*Adapted from a letter by Lytton Strachey to Leonard Woolf, dated June 13th, 1905, as found in The Letters of Lytton Strachey, edited by Paul Levy.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
An English lesson
Which goes better with afternoon tea—
yellowcake or magpie?
Does a barber make the barbed wire
to crown a wooden head after the March equinox?
What’s my pleasure if you’re welcome
is never yours?
And so you explain the intricacies of English
for forty quid an hour, but truth be told,
the naive questions of a rebooted life novice
wouldn’t pique your curiosity enough
to answer the one he really wants to ask:
Oughtn’t you to be in love?
hidden pilcrow 