Sunday, January 11, 2004

I can't believe I ever felt even the slightest bit sorry for myself for having allergies. So what if I get a shot once a week? So fucking what if I can't roll up the drive-thru and help myself to a quarter-pounder with cheese? So fucking what? It could be so much worse. Life could be so much worse for me.
Where is this coming from? I just finished reading a short book entitiled A G.I.'s Vietnam Diary 1968-1969, by Dominick Yezzo. I have no idea how many pages it was without counting ,since there were no page numbers. But it wasn't very long and I finished it in one sitting. Which is strange since I have a very difficult time concentrating on reading with any distractions whatever. Mainly the television. I've tried numerous times to read with it on, but find myself listening to it again and again. But the most remarkable thing happened this evening. For the first time, I was completely absorbed in my book and able to block out the T.V. entirely. I was so utterly amazed by this I found myself trying to figure out why. I even decided it was the size of the book. Usually I read old paperbacks, but this was a discarded hardback I found at a library sale. Maybe I was more emersed in the larger book.
I almost forgot the point of this story. After finishing the book my attention was once again focused on the television where after seeing a fast-food comercial I felt myself give a sigh. I can't believe this even occured to me after reading a book recounting the events of a year's tour of duty in Vietnam. I guess I'm just a typical American. Narrow-minded and self-absorbed. As moved as I may have felt I was, I was certainly not transformed apparantly.

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