Bonding


F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote that writing a novel was a lot like swimming under water, holding one’s breath. It was said as he tried to find a publisher for his first novel that his character never really finds himself at the end of the story. He was after all trying to write the Great American Novel. Often his American character seemed naïve and shocking. In a culture with ideas of unrestricted freedom. But with the consequential isolation.

On Wednesday, the yield on the benchmark 10-year Irish government bond rose to 5.5 percent, more than a full point above the recent low of 4.4 percent on April 5, but less than half of the equivalent Greek yield.

The marketplace. Where the next crisis just started. “Bonds have seen their best days,” Bill Gross, manager of the world’s biggest bond fund at Pacific Investment Management Co, said in a March 25 interview with Tom Keene on Bloomberg Radio. Alan Greenspan’s warning that rising yields on government debt will drive up American borrowing costs is resonating with the world’s biggest bond traders, who say the losses in March in the market for US Treasuries are just the beginning. Yields on 10-year notes, the benchmark for everything from mortgages to corporate bonds, climbed from a low of 3.53 per cent in February, to as high as 3.761 per cent today.

The social dynamics. In such a society, when the current situation isn’t good for Treasuries. Because money likes to shift to riskier assets with signs of economic recovery. And then all hell was gonna break loose.

American individualism, and illusions of autonomy. Coming up for air by the end, or drowning. Living in this individualist culture, with a higher rates of suicide than a more community-based culture.

Spring. And the same land. The urgency that went with getting the crop in. Or in times of panic. To work. To pray for another growing season. On lands inherited. The things city people miss. When the current situation was not good for Treasuries. When the focus on the family farm had always been about crop rotation.

In such a society of individualism. Of community. To allow myself in such a society to be touched. Intimately by someone. The theology of it all. Like what was going on in Arizona. Or what crops to get in. And where.

Fear and tension. Superficial wounds in the superficial world. Until the wounds went deeper. Intimacy is challenged most by too much distance, too much intensity, or simply too much pain. Learning the cost of fidelity. Staying faithful to the resulting consequences.

To be moved by it all. To move the entire world. Migrations. In a nation of former migrants, for the most part. Wrestling with migrations. And the tensions that follow.

Temptation. It was not them. It was me. I had become vapid.

April. With an urgency in getting the crop in. The fears that went with the growing season. In the 1970s with the family farms. And all the changes that had occurred. When family farming were now mostly all part of corporate farming.

Spring. And the same land. To work. To pray for another growing season. On lands inherited. The things city people miss. About rotation of crops. And fields lying fallow. Amidst worries about drought. Or floods. When the current situation was not good for Treasuries. Because money likes to shift to riskier assets with signs of economic recovery. Because of greed.

I was growing. And then losing a focus, with so much to focus upon. About true organic food. The urgency that went with getting the crop in.

The marketplace. More and more this urban marketplace was a lot like swimming under water, holding one’s breath. Where yield at 3.761 had to compete against the same 10-year bond of the Irish government at 5.5 percent. And the 10-year bond in Greece, yielding more than 10.0 percent. IF the Greek government did not go bankrupt.

The fear in the marketplace. In a world, more and more this urban world, with so much wisdom now in eclipse when it came to religious foundation, leaving many young men and old women without the resources to cope, at the end of the story. When a character never really finds themselves, as they were ready to surface out of the waters of the business world.

The Lost Generation and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Lost after World War I. With life in the Roaring Twenties. And the ensuing fear in the marketplace. In a world, when it came to religious foundation——more and more this urban world— with so much wisdom now in eclipse, then and now — leaving many young men and old women without the resources to cope, at the end of the story. As the Roaring Twenties gave way to the Great Depression. Among the astonishing spiritually inarticulate, when a F. Scott Fitzgerald character never really finds themselves, as they were ready to surface out of the waters of the business world.

Copyright © 2010.

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