Ok. Help me out here.

The company I work for is designating tomorrow at home office and all weekend in the stores as “dress down day” — to kick off a Tsunami Relief campaign.

Usually, when retailers do this, the method is you pay a certain amount to get a pass to “dress down” — in our case, at Home Office, jeans and sneakers. (We’re the last company in the US not to have gone casual, I swear.)

We’re not doing this. Rather than making anyone feel the peer pressure of donating money for the privilege of dressing down, we’re just letting people fly the denim as a way of signaling our commitment to the relief effort. (Stay with me.)

The company’s donated a fairly sizable chunk of money, there will be voluntary donation opportunities around the building for the month. All well and good.

It’s this denim thing that’s getting to me.

See what’s happened is that there’s this real…festive atmosphere that’s developed around tomorrow. People talking about it, buzzing about it, wondering whether some women will be wearing inappropriate low-rise jeans, etc.

A little too festive for me. It’s offensive to me that the company’s created this “awareness kickoff” with this huge party-type thing. It seems a little bizarre, not entirely well thought out, and strangely out of touch with the scale of the disaster.

Am I overreacting?

ps: I’m wearing a suit tomorrow, by the way. With cuff links.

EDIT: by the way, i just locked this down. it occurred to me that i shouldn’t put it out there for anyone to see — more for the bad taste jokes than for the discussion proper. i know you guys well enough to know where your hearts are at — not everyone does.

In response to a request from ocvictor.

my One is one
i’m unafraid of — while the works
sometimes leave me breathless with
anxiety or awe
i am never so frightened
that i cannot see clearly past to
the new work

for static is not
the name of my One

in my house there are
real doubts and false certainties
that do not change
but the One moves among them and
while nothing disappears
it does diminish

for magic is not
the face of my One

the street exhales despair
when i step off the curb past
the unwanted who are sleeping
off the stale breath of the city
and the One hovers
warm above them with odd grace
dispensing free passes, relief,
hard soothsaying
and there is an explanation
i may not understand now
but believe i’ll
know someday

for deception is not
the face of my One

a woman holds herself strong
because there is a right
not to be simply a waiting vessel
and the pair who love well
love as the One loves
without qualification

and just when it seems that there is no One

when a passion play swallows a nation
a cross falls on a crescent
a crescent draws a bead on a cross
a star smashes a child
or a child bombs a star

the One says,

even as it is
pain or ecstasy,
just and cruel or
love and soft

even as it is, it is also not —
no state of being exists
that is blasphemous

my One
is not a limit

you know what we need?

another meme.

one that gives you a chance to name the five most important breaths you ever took. then post it in another’s mouth and they breathe them with you.

one where the titles of songs by your favorite bands become scars from bad friday nights and you post them in your eyes.

one where you get to ask everyone you know one crucial question and everyone you know answers in a language you don’t speak.

one where people circulate an empty template among themselves and curse its developer for forgetting to include instructions.

one where your name generates a personal deity who is all knowing and drunk with power.

one where you are classified by your hair, your eyes, and the misspelled gospels of your personality.

one where the people who see it go blind by choice.

one you can click past, confused and concerned, praying it’s not contagious. you come back to be sure. you come back to be sure. you come back to be sure.

you know what we need?

another meme.

one that gives you a chance to name the five most important breaths you ever took. then post it in another’s mouth and they breathe them with you.

one where the titles of songs by your favorite bands become scars from bad friday nights and you post them in your eyes.

one where you get to ask everyone you know one crucial question and everyone you know answers in a language you don’t speak.

one where people circulate an empty template among themselves and curse its developer for forgetting to include instructions.

one where your name generates a personal deity who is all knowing and drunk with power.

one where you are classified by your hair, your eyes, and the misspelled gospels of your personality.

one where the people who see it go blind by choice.

one you can click past, confused and concerned, praying it’s not contagious. you come back to be sure. you come back to be sure. you come back to be sure.