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Sunday, February 14, 2016

emboldening

so why does it have to be this time stolen, you would say borrowed? stolen I am thinking -- having said to Boyce last night: yes, the one thing you could give me would be time -- why can't I write ANYTHING on this so rarely visited, by me or anyone else, blog, in the daytime, you know, daytime, like people? -- ok I am thinking let's just say it, now at whatever time it is, what we wanted, what I wanted to say
That I read the Threepennyreview at this hour, because I know and respect and go to the same everythings, like concerts as Wendy Lesser with he superintelligent face and red hair pulled back and remember saying to her, hi, I am mary ann caws, and I actually teach at the place you are spending a year at, in the biography writing venue , I think, or whatever, didn't matter, remember ah so clearly seeing her at that St. Matthew unforgettable passion  we only got into through Tipi, that amazing tenor I wept over but or and friend of our friend Meriam Korichi, she of the all night philosophy night, and a friend  admired and loved and with whom -- when we converge, as we do in the very south of France, in the Vaucluse,  we do,  we translated a poem of Pascal -- what, a POEM of Pascal, yup, a POEM of Pascal, oh, amazing translations go on in the south of France, another time, will speak of them, but this is now just that this particular issue of the Threepenny Review ( yes, of course I subscribe, just like the New York Public Library Live,  always, but now so I can come to hear my own BELOVED Maggie as in Maggie Nelson, and my own BELOVED Wayne, as in Wayne Koestenbaum as in Wayne Koestenbaum, YES WE SHOULD ALL GO TO THEIR PRESENTATION at the NYPL, and do I just remember welcoming him to our BELOVED graduate school of our BELOVED CUNY, and am I making this up, under the totally beneficent joy of middle of the night  time  in which  NO ONE CAN INTERRUPT me to ask for a recommendation or an anything? no, so  there are, in this issue of the Threepenny Review,  all these  wonderful photos by Grete Sten d Ellen Aeurbach, known as Ringl +  Pit , whose show we had visited, Deborah Solomon and I, a while back...
so this is to say that, and when I get back in the daytime, when people write, you know, the daytime, I will indeed go on with my SIMPLYWOOLF for which I am contracted, sounds like a  murder, but you get the point, whoever you are or probably is, and the oh yes I am going to do a Jean Cocteau et le cinema, and after speaking on the Isle of Skye on Jon Schueler, whose clouds in whose skyscapes off the Sound of Sleat I really do love, I get to spend a WEEKin Paris with my alltime most beloved French sister, Marie-Claire Dumas, and that will be in June, the beginning of, and that is like Real Time, can't say, and don't have to try to say, Why... so here is my closing thought, will put it in caps in case anyone needs, no, wants to know:  why can't we say what we mean in ordinary daylight time?
I never figured that one out, and probably won't.  But no matter,  I have THIS TIME NOW



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