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Friday, July 17, 2020

So how wonderful is it not to have already disappeared! I have been reading about Churchill in The Splendid and the Vile, etc., and   although I skip a lot about the planes and the war and on, I am glued to the biographical details about Churchill, whom I grew up loving the name and being and profile of... 
I think that must. have been, as well as wanting to give my then very British husband a family of his nation (he never became American, so I became also English), and the Vietnam war, all that, and I swore my allegiance to her majesty on a bible covered in cellophane, so I was glad when it still took, AND this year I renewed it, but I. hate leaving the European Union, and feel perhaps as Scottish 300 years ago, I can reclaim it if Scotland somehow works it out.
In any case, we have our cabanon in France, that I've given to my children and Matthew and his elder son, Theodore, will be going there in August
Must finish and get back to my work, love my independent study group, about translation and interpretation called Poets Together!

Monday, July 6, 2020

what we learn about the cappuccino!

I thought I knew EVERYTHING about cappuccinos: Carolyn Burke, during a conference on Mina Loy (AND i certainly HOPE Reaktion likes my new version of my book on her!), told me how to get a dry one without the foam, in case one would want that, but now why would one want that????
so this morning on a hot day and outside -- how I love being outside in the summer!-- i found that you can take the little stirrer and if you indulge in brown crunchy sugar on top, you can spend a delightful fifteen minutes or so in the sun swooping the foam, crunchy now, into yourself AND THEN take the rest in the cup for a walk with you, whether you are going, yes, of course masked, to the park or wherever else. 
If you don't have the energy or zoom power to push the top on enough, it will spill out a bit of the cup onto you, but what the hell? So that was my learning from this morning. Back to think about , oh, the rest of life, I guess, but this was the important part.

Sunday, July 5, 2020

post July 4

Post July 4, and just to say hello to anyone who reads this! 
all being sort of closed up has been grand for me, because apart from walking around a block or so and making my way to Central Park, masked of course, and trying not to walk into anyone, I have been happily ensconsend -- that spelling looks wrong, but want to Go Walk Now- in our apartment, finishing up the 40, 000 word manuscript called Beginnings of the Prose Poem, which Michel Delville of Li├Ęge in Belgium and I co-edited, and we have MANY translators, from at least eleven different countries, and the languages translated from are Very Many also, whew, what a joy! And my husband, Boyce, is playing Bach and Brahms on the piano, so that is a double joy.We will publish  the prose poem with Manifold Editions at the Graduate School of CUNY where I am teaching a mini-seminar now -- on translation the first five weeks of the fall, and then on omissions and obsessions in the spring. JUST FINISHED, so off, post-walk, to sup with friends of long standing, before plunging in to other things tomorrow. Au revoir to anyone and everyone just about. 

Friday, April 10, 2020

Terrible Times

Given the new terribleness, the virus, and that we are all working and reading and writing, my equivalent of working, it seems to me all the more remarkable that any light breaks in. But the very moving signal given all over everywhere at, say, seven in the evening, when people open their windows and clap and sound any noisy utensil in honor of the medical professionals who work with the sick, endangering their own lives, seems incredible worth a lot. This collective sign means as much as anything, and I am writing this on the night of Good Friday, and saluting the Cathedral of St. John the Divine for opening its immense space as a hospital, should one be wanted. The Rt. Rev Clifton Daniel was for years in Wilmington, N.C., my home town, and so I feel connected in many ways to the Cathedral, especially since, like my sister Peg and my mother, I attended the National Cathedral School in Washington, when it was a boarding school, as it no longer is. We had many children of diplomats indeed, but many others from all over everywhere.

My roommate, Grace Long, was rather large, and I remember happily sitting on her lap, and feeling less lonely. She was from Lima, and subsequently, many many years later, when I was going to Macchu Picchu, as I had always longed to,  having seen a picture of the ruins in a book by Thomas McFarlane, who I think went then to Princeton to teach, and those ruins remained with me. When I finally went there, during my second (and now) marriage, I was totally overcome with a kind of nostalgia of some sort. My guide wanted me to trust him enough to cover my eyes and climb up until I was at the top and THEN look down.

Years from then, I wanted to do a book about translation, and found several translations of Pablo Neruda's Heights of Macchu Picchu, and it turns out that it is chanted on high at some celebration each year, if I. have the story right. If I don't, it little matters, for such stories don't have to be true to be right. and everything there felt right.  As does that evening salute to the bravery of the medical workers in this awful time. 

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

I love the label "New Post"!!!
So interesting, in order to be interested in something -- for if we are not, that is surely accepting the end of much if not everything -- so here it is. Just about what happens in the mind when 1) you are afraid of the gusts of wind 2) afraid of escalators going down, because once in Japan you were caught or stuck or whatever the term is for momentary panic that seems to turn into longer spates of it 3) really caught up in what you are writing (some think, some write, some read, and I can't seem to do any two of those things at once, and have to be seated to do any of them, unlike Virginia Woolf who wrote standing up!!!)...
I LOVED being in San Francisco, apart from concern about that cruise ship about to dock right there, and apart from everything closing like the restaurant, "Sam's" where we were three BECAUSE we had reserved so they sort of HAD to let us in, and the sign outside said CLOSED, and so on...The talks, in the Weinstein Gallery,  on surrealist women painters, were fun, and I greatly enjoyed seeing Guccioni, a painter I had never heard of, so I got to take a fresh view of things and paintings. And could say: hey, all those eyes, look at the rays coming out of it, and look at the whirlwinds spiraling about, and think of futurism and how that persists... and so on.
I still firmly believe DADA is as strong as surrealism, so I will hold on to that belief, and am dealing right now with Arthur Cravan because of writing on Mina Loy, oh how Dada can you get?
best wishes and uncontaminating hugs right now from right here in New York...