Saturday, September 18, 2010

Saturday commute ii

We say, we welcome the weekend, but always there is the spectre of car trouble. 

One does all one can, to come to terms with a wholesome terror of car trouble.

An unseemliness attaches to car trouble, despite the most enlightened tolerance - to say nothing of the nasty suspicion, that we simply desire car trouble.

Who could possibly believe that?

Friday, September 17, 2010

Daydreaming of justice

a foot in the right direction

Se vuol ballare,
Signor Contino,
Il chitarrino
Le suonerò.

[the document]

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Every one of them

. . taught us, learned with us.

This poem, The Yoke, is by a teacher, 
Frank Bidart
I'm going to take it.

don't worry   I know you're dead
but tonight

turn your face again
toward me

when I hear your voice there is now
no direction in which to turn

I sleep and wake and wake and sleep and wake and

but tonight
turn your face again

toward me

see   upon my shoulders is the yoke
that is not a yoke

don't worry   I know you're dead
but tonight

turn your face again

Non so più cosa son, cosa faccio

E a parlare 
mi sforza d'amore

Un desio ch'io 
non posso spiegar

E, se non ho chi m'oda,
Parlo d'amor con me.

Lorenzo da Ponte after Beaumarchais
Photograph Hedi Slimane

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

A dialogue of need and nourishment ii

Commentary at a blog:

For me, the theft of "The Guy in the Striped Room" from the Frick always made it too poignant to visit the museum after lunch. Indeed, it made lunch necessary, to recompose upon a sequence of plates, those elements of nourishment the canvas had framed completely in itself. The failure, then, of the whole restaurant principle comes crashing down upon one, to return to that house on a full stomach.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

sometimes the face of Julien Sorel

reminds, without a word,
he never went away.
He never will, he's our Julien.

Photo Paolo Roversi for Gucci
W, August 2010