And great folk singing, how it matters, and where it matters. I was reading in the New Yorker of May 20  about "Rhiannon Giddens and what folk music means, " about which the heading reads "The roots musician is inspire by the evolving legacy of the black string band" and her singing  recently at Thalian Hall, in Wilmington, North Carolina, where I grew up and revisit to see my sister. This was to make the memorial of the 1898 terrible goings on there, and there was a procession with candles and ritual to hear her singing, and then reading the names of those murdered back then. Who ever knows what goes on where and when we are and aren't? What an article, by John Jeremiah Sullivan,  which is about knowing. 

reading aloud

so we just gave a reading at KGB Bar, six of us reading our translations and talking about the authors we just translated for a little press called Contra Mundum, and that was fun; always readings are fun, I think -- a friend and I read in New Orleans, books we translated together and separately and also in Woodstock
well, that isn't much news actually and I have to prepare my forthcoming seminar on Turns and Swerves or whatever I called it, in art and text, having to do with how the road bends or the text turns, that kind of thing, as in Nicolas de Stael or a number of other artists I love -- or how the plot not thickens but swoops away differently from what you might expect
we were in NorthCarolina because my beloved sister got robbed and we had to  straighten up after and such and such, and there are mostly pine trees and marshes, lovely, and a kind of unbusyness, unlike New York which I love living in

strange sands

so I wrote a blog about the joy of North Carolina sands, specifically on Wrightsville Beach, where I partly grew up (as in, I am only partly grown up, but also as in part of my geographical pas, oh, you know), and now it is somewhere else in some other computer,

the point, however, being that the getting away from wherever you are or were is ultimately useful to the brain and probably heart... and I LOVE being by the water, however rough

so I wandered into the very very rough and grey ocean, rode a wave, let the others ride over me, and was joyous

of course, I am often joyous, and feel so PRIVILEGED to live in New York, which we love, and sometimes in the Vaucluse, which I love and often my husband loves

and maybe I will find the sands kind of blog I was writing when events intervened