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Post-Coital Depression Now, after the parties, and after the Seders, a few scant hours before the POWs come home (and home is here, this is their home, and this is my home, far from my friends and family and far from their friends and family and the things that any of us would call home) Now, on a quiet Saturday, I ponder art for art's sake and art for society's sake and art which by its nature could never last because it is too specific too focused in its condemnations and not at all metaphorical Today I ponder the role of an artist at the close of a war and the dawn of an empire And what it means to believe in something anything in a time of blind faith in blind and stupid leaders Today I am an artist and a businessman so I look over my projects what is due, what is due me, what will be due soon what must be achieved today so that other artists will still consider me important so they will come to my rallies and come to my readings and thank me for my politics and thank me for my energy Today at home I think of the best way to relieve the burden of living, writing, and voting in the country destined to conquer the world Today I think of stacks of burning bodies dictatorships established in the name of democracy and the motherless sons who will come back to America and do everything they can to bring it down and what does that mean to anyone, anyway? Today the POWs come home. tortured. beaten. terrorized. and I will celebrate with my city and with my country and I know that this is the last day we can call ourselves a Republic of Laws today I fear for myself I fear for my son I fear for the Syrians I fear for the Iraqis I fear for the Israelis I fear for the Americans and I fear for every artist who makes art for art's sake who won't speak out at the end of our world.
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