Of Vacuums and Other Sucky-Folly

In the way of answering to Steph's curiosity about vacuum worship, I'll say this: On Thursdays I've been sitting with my nephew from 8:30 (barely two sips into my first and last cup of coffee) to 1:30 p.m. He loves vacuums so much that when he starts to get cranky or bored, we haul out the Dyson. I recommend Dysons to vacuum enthusiasts because they have so many wonderful snap-on snap-off parts and pieces to fool with, and, well, they suck good. He actually pronounces vacuum, "dahkoom", and when he sees it he literally exclaims; "DAHkoom DAHkoom DAHkoom!" and does a little, what I can only call, dahkoom dance, spinning around and jumping up and down. He doesn't just worship the Dyson, no, he isn't picky at all. Often, we will pack up the stroller and head to Value Village (the best thrift store around) down the block. We aren't going to Value Village for any other reason than to visit vacuum heaven. There, at V Village, are slews of vacuums all shapes sizes and colors, and in every condition. Once through the door of the store, Zavier usually climbs out of the stroller and runs ahead of me (cuz he knows where they are) crying out, "DAHkooms, DAHkooms!" all through the store. When he arrives at the place where they always are, he immediately begins a rather serious and ritualistic inspection of each one. I am thankful that the vacuums are located directly across the aisle from the books, and so I amuse myself by thumbing through them, some of which I've already thumbed through for months and months. He is more interested in the vacuums than in all the broken dirty toys on the other side of the store. When back at home he will take a piece of paper towel tubing or a stick or anything you push that rolls ahead of you, and pretend to vacuum the floor. He says, "dohtee dohtee flow" to the floor, and "kween up kween up," sing songily along. He also makes various noises I suppose to mimic the vacuum's noise. This can last a long time, this pretend vacuuming, so I encourage it. Sigh. * Yessir, it's damned cute.
Not that any other topic in the world is half as heartening as Zavier and his vacuum fetish, but I do have a lot of other things on my mind and going on in my life. Like, dealing with insecurities about poetry submissions/rejections and where to put the stuff in real life. I say real life, and well, I actually mean real life. I'm not putting poetry down (never kick a man when he's down), but the passed few weeks I've been growing cynical and worried. You know, pesky things like war, global warming, poison, child molestation, friends leaving town, family crying on the phone, intellectual foddering from the poetry hipsters, and the t.v. news suck. I mean that like t.v. news-suck. Newsuck. News uck. Same no matter how you type it. I'm kinda restless about these things, and the words on the page aren't comforting or petting my thoughts to a calm anymore. Am I about to complain alot? Maybe...naaahhh.
Really, I'm more feeling humbled than fumbled. Taking a spell to observe my folly proactively--laughing at myself and my condition--throwing shit at the page to see what happens, and laughing some more. Sounds like I'm losing my mind, eh? I hope so.