and then...

and then it was, is, april, don't even ask, I say, it is just full of concerts, some with Matthew and Nada Surf, some not, went to Philharmonic on the poet Grace Schulman's tickets, grand seat, umph to the mozart, enjoyed the all-surroundingness of the Tchaikowski , we more readily go to chamber music, like tomorrow,
and of course, I left my glasses in Le Train Bleu, which I love, in Bloomingdale's , and have to go back tomorrow, no great pain,
but by May 8 have to write on Jon Schueler's five paintings for the building at 499 Park, fun, I LOVe doing things I haven't done, and my Andre Masson: and the Mythology of Desire for the gallery Blain Di Donna, is just out, and a translation of Gherasim Luca, of La Proie s'Ombre (Self-shadowing prey) AND have to get a lecture ready on Motherwell for Ashebille, NC and read the long thesis for its defense in Paris on May 19, and so on
Will I or won't I write on Pascal, got out about 2003 books on him, but lose interest when I don't do things right away, as in Right Away
loved th Artaud banquet a few weeks ago, thanks to Jarrett Earnest in his galley, and so on
not a lot of boringness around, thanks be

everything at once

It somehow seems more exciting to me to do several things at once: nothing gets done as deeply perhaps as it might, were I to be solidly committed to one thing at a time, but there it is, and here am I, early morningish, translating a Rene Char passage on Goerges de la Tour for a poet-painter friend, doing an outline for an essay on Andre Breton and Rene Char for a new Princeton reader for the "general public," preparing (or not really) a talk for tomorrow night at Hollins University in Virginia,
and the catalogue essay for an Andre Masson exhibition -- and, oddly, each under or overtaking seems to nourish the others.
That's an early morning, optimistic view, I well know. And next week for my seminar on Letters and Lives, I have to think about WHAT exactly is so moving and so essential about Van Gogh's letters to Theo his brother -- yesterday we tackled, well, discussed, the letters of Proust and some of the various pieces and books written around him, like Richard Goodkin's more than thought-provoking Around Proust. It goes from Bergson and Mallarme to Wagner and film and everything else: I can't even pretend to read enough of anything, but perhaps a suggestion works as well as a whole massive entity. I surely hope so.
AND i was just invited to participate in the defense of another dissertation in Paris, where I really do love going, always staying in the same hotel if not with my beloved friends, always breakfasting in the same cafe, often dining in the same place -- all in a small radius. And this time, I will go to meet the wife of Gherasiim Luca, a Romanian surrealist poet whom I've been translating, thanks to Rainer Hanshe and his new publishing house. Before that, though, many other talks, including one on Gertrude Stein and literary cubism, whatever that turns out to be.