Monday, August 2, 2010

More fog

Suspended water, not like an icicle; this is San Francisco from the rigging of a naval ship from Vladivostok. The ship sailed into port under one flag and out under another, without changing hands, but changing hands. It was September, 1991, and the occasion was truly a migration in water beyond the imagination of anyone. I was on board because one had to be there; and this is for a friend who shoved me into this water, and wrote the masthead for this place.


  1. never thought i'd land near san francisco in 1989 and stay 'til now; never knew that a brave laurent would remind me (these heavenly posts) so perfectly why i married the boy (who looked so lovely in his navy whites) i married; never dreamed i'd be sitting here marveling at this brilliant crew one quiet evening in july, with a cricket having newly invaded the nearby redwood cabinet, him singing good luck & it echoing through the house:

    bravo zulu laurent (ivan and gaye , all three masters, creating) spinning heaven from this fog. how lucky we are to have you here.

  2. "That's mercy, but too much security." H5, ii, 2.

    But well I take your meaning: USS Enterprise beneath the Gate, every man in formation on the flight deck, in dress whites to solace Elsa in the mode of Lohengrin. What a span of honourable intentions!

  3. Honourable intentions and mercy. Yes.

    Security isn't ever, really, is it?

    But those dress whites are something else. (I will have to brush up on Elsa, and Henry, now that you have brought them to mind.)

    Caring more about each other, as you have been pointing out of late: that's really the thing. Isn't it?

  4. I wish I could say anything sensible about what the thing is, but I can't even think anything sensible about what the thing is. I know, I can't dismiss something for failing to understand it, for it may nevertheless understand me. As to caring more about each other (an anticipation of following postings), I think I can say, that to disdain that is pretty much to compromise any endeavour, especially one posing as art or other nourishment. But the Anglo-American stage has given us a "hit" on this subject this season, and you and I shall probably have to look in on it.