Stomping My Way From Saturday to Sunday

I slept in this Saturday morning. The plan from the night before was to finish "Three-Way Split" this morning. Another plan that went awry.

What writing was done was for this blog. I think I did a good piece on history and film and Maggie Smith. That is scheduled for next month on the 8th.

The email keeps beating me. Too much to read. Two pieces I will pass along here follow.

Power and prudence in American statecraft by Brian Smith reviews American Presidents in Diplomacy and War: Statecraft, Foreign Policy, and Leadership, Thomas R. Parker, Notre Dame, $45.

The United States is not especially notable for its record in producing great statesmen in international relations. One might then expect a book such as Thomas R. Parker’s American Presidents in Diplomacy and War to tell a dismal story, echoing Bismarck’s assertion that only a special providence could have saved the US from its mistakes. On one level, Parker offers a historical assessment of a selection of the nation’s most internationally consequential presidents and their advisers. His book also serves as an extended argument in favour of realism as a guide to statecraft, and history as the primary means of learning.

Over the course of nine chapters, Parker assesses how leaders from George Washington to Barack Obama tackled the challenges of their time in office. His portraits offer a perceptive window into the attitudes, virtues, and vices that formed each of his subjects’ capabilities for leading the United States in war and peace. They also offer a thoughtful structural critique of why America’s domestic political system often fails to produce leaders wise enough to rise to the challenges of international politics.

***

Prudence is the pre-eminent political virtue because it ties a leader’s assessment of the nation’s present means with the ways one might employ those means, and then unite them to pursue the ends they seek. This sets a high bar: one must study and take good advice concerning the nation’s military, intelligence, and diplomatic capabilities, think seriously about when and where these might best be used, and do all of this while considering the high stakes of politics on the world stage.

Parker’s understanding of prudent statecraft includes several other vital elements: both the avoidance of being overly swayed by public opinion and the need to retain clarity of purpose figure prominently in his account, as does managing the tendency to chart a cautious middle path simply because it seems ‘moderate’. These secondary considerations show that statecraft requires a cultivated sense of imagination for what is possible – and what challenges one’s opponents might pose.

Finally, statecraft requires deep capacities for adaptation and an unwavering determination to bring ideas into reality. 

Trump has no prudence. Biden has shown both prudence and wit with Ukraine, but I fear his attachment to Israel has blinded him to Netanyahu's destructiveness for Israel. Harris will have to find a way to thread the needle. I think she can. 

I read Jennifer Springsteen's short story, Corpse Washer, on CRAFT. I have been wondering what I am doing wrong with my submissions to CRAFT. I loved the story, but it is not one I could write. Here is a paragraph that got me. I do not write like this:

When Luli went to the school in the fall, I realized how I’d grown to depend on her help making oils and tinctures. She was intuitive and careful—both qualities I admire. I also felt a little lonely during the days, whereas before I’d just been alone. It seems dusk and early morning are the times when death rides between our worlds, and I was often called away. Luli had to learn to soothe herself to sleep or get herself up and ready for school.

***

He didn’t budge, but I rummaged around in my bag anyway and took out four glass jars. I uncorked the rose and rubbed a little oil on my wrist, then held it up to his nose. His nostrils responded and he opened his eyes on me. They were cloudy like Mrs. McDowell’s had been, but open and kind and curious.

***

I went out to the kitchen to fetch his tray, which Aubrey had laid out on the counter and covered in a tea towel: Warm farro with seeds and crowder peas. Strawberries and hard cheese. Out the kitchen window, I saw the men working in the field and stopped. Among them was a young man guiding the old mule. I didn’t see the whip in his hand, but there they were, gliding through the rows while the cutters stacked the hemp on the trailer. The man’s shirt was stuck to his back, wet with sweat, and I could see the movement of the muscles in his shoulders. It gave me a little shiver.

You have got good imagery and an emotional connection to the action.

I wrote KH and Joel C about my reactions to the story:

 Seems that what I like is not what I write! 

But, again, it is a first-person narrator - it allows for the emotions to come out and one to better empathize with the character. I have been wanting people to see the character in action - so to speak - and learn from them, not so much to identify with them. Or so it seems to me on this now sunny morning where I have spent too much time already on the computer. 

While still waiting for Joel C, KH offered this advice:

Send a story to them as a 30’s trans woman who overcame sexual abuse to get her MFA at Brown. 

I cleaned a little - trash out, and then the mopping. More chlorine in the kitchen.

Then it was out into the wider world. I walked downtown. I found the Bird Dog Cafe closed - out of business. Call me shocked - I had not been there in months. My bad luck is probably not as great as theirs.

Well, I wanted to get a bite to eat while waiting for the bus. I was out to get a dish rack. I went to the new pizza place on Walnut. Damn, if I cannot recall its name. I got a great sandwich for $14. That sounds much - it felt like much when I saw the menu prices - until I got to thinking about why I did not eat at Subway on Friday while waiting for the banker. The price was not much more than Subway. The sandwich was also a better sandwich. Oh, yeah, the service was far, far better than I have noticed at Subway.

Caught the bus, got the dish rack, and came back and washed the dishes that had accumulated the past few days. The majority included utensils fouled by the rat. They had already soaked for a day in dish soap and chlorine bleach.

Then I felt a little light-headed, so I laid down. That was to be for an hour. It became four.

I splurged on a pizza rather than start cooking. Procrastinating on cleaning the refrigerator rationalized by the time lost to doing my writing. Dominos delivered while I was working on the story.

My ride called, so I am going to church today. 

I tried calling my nephew, no answer. No response to my text.

I wrote and wrote new text after 7 pm. I finished close to midnight. Probably complete wreckage; I will not look at it until after church. Not until I start cooking dinner.

My nephew's girlfriend called me back. I did not know it was her calling, so she took me by surprise. We went round and round if he was there. I let her go after she promised to have him call. He did not. She sounded like an idiot kid. Or otherwise out of her head. 

 

Okay, it is Sunday morning. I still feel really rocky. My right hand is numb. Probably from too much typing - or so I hope. 

I finished off this post in the last 90 minutes. Now, I need to get ready for church.

Putting my money where my mouth is. I found the Paddyhats through YouTube. They are neither The Pogues (more humor, even if cruder) or The Dropkick Murphys (more folky in their punky way), but I keep saying check out things from outside your information silo, don't I? 

The first is an older song:

And this is their most recent, which has a sentiment that I wholeheartedly endorse:

swch 7:57 AM