Such Sweet Sorrow

Over the past week I've gotten angrier about the "read your email or else" commuter campus job. This morning, although it's much more interesting to come up with new ways to explore the relationship between Othello and Desdemona for tomorrow's class, it's clear to me that working on that is pretty much only for my own enjoyment, and if I was smart I'd be turning to the piles of administrative details that need attention for my other part-time job, at my local college campus.

I am in the mood to recite this poem, Such Sweet Sorrow, by Ethan Coen:

If there were times
I slighted you
I'm sorry now
There weren't more.

So many times
I fought with you
But, sadly, never
Broke your jaw.

Some days, I know,
I failed to show
You what you meant to me,

However it
Is hard to hit
That hard that frequently.

I wanted wine and roses and
You gave me marcs and thorns,
And also marks of black and blue
and shiny cuckold's horns.

I do regret
The way I let
You always get my goat,,

But don't repent
The time I spent
With hands wrapped round your throat.

I would have loved your laughter
Were it not at my expense,
And hope you will hereafter
Be amused by hell's torments.

So should we meet
Upon the street
You should know why, instead

Of hailing you
With love, I do
So with a hail of lead.

Yes, so satisfying. I do realize that I need to cool off before I make any kind of final move. I could probably still get a class or two here and there, go on with the kind of commuting life I've had, but my pride doesn't want to let me. If they don't appreciate what all I've done for them, let them try to go on without me.

But I won't say that. Yet. Today I'm just going to enjoy the Shakespearean quotation of the poem's title and wallow in the deadly sin of wrath.