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spring, spring, it always come after
Mar. 22nd, 2009 01:54 pmI shall leave unexplained, for the moment, the line from Philip Levine that forms the subject head of this abbreviated post.
The answer, as a perfunctory Google search will indicate, is blowing in the wind, like the fumes from Dylan's portable toilet.
Anyway, I have been struck by the realization of how many fellow readers of John Crowley were in remarkable places when they were younger, from the Chicago demonstrations to watching the burning of the Bank of America (that would be me) to basic training in a time of war. After which we found ourselves emerging into a job market with few or no prospects during the great downturn of the early 1970s (which combined with the tenacious grasp of the tenured senior academicians), which sent so many of us off onto career tracks we never might have pursued otherwise.
There is a great deal to be said about all this, including the odd position of near-retirees and retirees who did curious and interesting things back in the day and sometimes still do the legal parts of them. (I was never good at violating the nation's laws, myself, being congenitally timid in that regard. But there was no law against being unconventional, else I'd be in perennial difficulty along with most of the people I know. As the policeman said to the upscale folks trying to expel the straight-edge punk-rockers from their business district a smaller number of years ago, "There ain't no law against bein' ugly.")
The answer, as a perfunctory Google search will indicate, is blowing in the wind, like the fumes from Dylan's portable toilet.
Anyway, I have been struck by the realization of how many fellow readers of John Crowley were in remarkable places when they were younger, from the Chicago demonstrations to watching the burning of the Bank of America (that would be me) to basic training in a time of war. After which we found ourselves emerging into a job market with few or no prospects during the great downturn of the early 1970s (which combined with the tenacious grasp of the tenured senior academicians), which sent so many of us off onto career tracks we never might have pursued otherwise.
There is a great deal to be said about all this, including the odd position of near-retirees and retirees who did curious and interesting things back in the day and sometimes still do the legal parts of them. (I was never good at violating the nation's laws, myself, being congenitally timid in that regard. But there was no law against being unconventional, else I'd be in perennial difficulty along with most of the people I know. As the policeman said to the upscale folks trying to expel the straight-edge punk-rockers from their business district a smaller number of years ago, "There ain't no law against bein' ugly.")
