Fungible Convictions

At least two years ago, maybe three, I wrote a poem about some of my favorite days: waking up early on a Saturday morning at Paddy’s house, eating the enormous breakfast his mother would make, and being driven together to our baseball game. And those extra-great days when, after the game, my father or Patrick’s would drive us to an Orioles game. This must have been written around the time of my conversion to Orthodox Christianity, because there’s an idealized version of Catholicism in the poem—I’d always felt a little bad that I went through six years of Catholic school, which second to my family is the biggest definer in my life, only to switch teams in my 20′s. . . . Continue reading

As a friend just said, “It finally happened!” We can now buy Big Wheels for Adults. Nostalgia forever!

If you’re reading this, want to add a comment about other nostalgic products?

Just to add two more examples of nostaligic art: (the defunct band) Poor Rich One’s song “Mom Is Home” (whose tie to the Amoeba song of the same name, and some same lyrics, I’m still sorting out):

Mom is home, but you can open the door,
don’t be afraid now, not anymore.

and two writers doing very similar things, Michael Chabon and Jonathan Lethem. Both have written fine books in the last six years or so having to do with comics, childhood, and haltingly mature adults. I’ll be reviewing both of their new books on Fungible Convictions within the next month.

And let’s add an Eels stanza:

Little kids go out to play
They’re just happy it’s another day
It’s up to you and me, and who’s to say
These could be the good old days

That last line is grim. I think when my friends and I and tons of others decide to spend an evening in and brood, the thought that life won’t necessarily get better weighs heavily.