"Oh, let me see now,"

says the ancient man, tilting his withered head to wince and blink at the sun in bewildered reminiscence, "my first wife passed away in the spring of --" and for a moment he is touched with terror. The spring of what? Past? Future? What is any spring but a mindless rearrangement of cells in the crust of the spinning earth as it floats in endless circuit of its sun? What is the sun itself but one of a billion insensible stars forever going nowhere into nothingness? Infinity! But soon the merciful valves and switches of his brain begin to do their tired work, and "The spring of Nineteen-Ought-Six," he is able to say. "Or no, wait--" and his blood runs cold again as the galaxies revolve. "Wait! Nineteen-Ought-Four." Now he is sure of it, and a restorative flood of well-being brings his hand involuntarily up to slap his thigh in satisfaction. He may have forgotten the shape of his first wife's smile and the sound of her voice in tears, but by imposing a set of numerals on her death he has imposed coherence on his own life, and on life itself. Now all the other years can fall obediently into place, each with its orderly contribution to the whole. Nineteen-Ten, Nineteen-Twenty -- Why, of course he remembers! -- Nineteen-Thirty, Nineteen-Forty, right on up to the well-deserved peace of his present and on into the gentle promise of his future. The earth can safely resume its benevolent stillness -- Smell that new grass! -- and it's the same grand old sun that has hung there smiling on him all these years. "Yes sir," he can say with authority, "Nineteen-Ought-Four," and the stars tonight will please him as tokens of his ultimate heavenly rest. He has brought order out of chaos.

-from Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates

If Vonnegut's quote is any indication, we should all have to read this book instead of The Great Gatsby. Sorry Fitzgerald, but watching the American Dream fail on a fresh-cut middle class suburban lawn makes so much more sense than watching it float around and spoil a millionaire's pool. Everyone should read this book.

-

Last week, I learned that my brother is going to 100% enlist in the Navy. It's not surprising, but it's still strange to finally hear its confirmation. In a sort of convoluted way, I'm happy for him -- happy that he's taking the first steps to finally realizing what is basically a life-long dream for him. I don't know anyone who's had a more singular and focused vision of who they want to be than my brother. While becoming a SEAL stands outside my comprehension as a career/life choice, I whole-heartedly admire his dedication to the craft of the elite soldier. While the physical/athletic superiority is obviously praiseworthy, the intellectual sharpness and mental poise that must accompany it are what make me proud of his efforts over the years. It's scary to think of the places this choice will take him, the obstacles he will face, the unavoidable danger he will be put in, but he's not my kid brother anymore, and so I can't think I or my family knows better than him what is the right decision for him -- and in many situations, he's easily the best equipped of us to deal with them (there is no one I'd rather have with me in a fight, or to save me from a burning building, or to get lost with in some wild uninhabited place). But above all, I applaud him for not settling, for pursuing that one thing which his heart continually echoes the need to grasp, for choosing to be not just un-average, but exceedingly above average. Also, for giving me a great topic to entertain people at a bar with.

-

This could be the first rap album ever recorded. I hope the irony of the song's topic does not escape you.