The Assumption into Heaven of Walker Evans

Is character fortune? Or hard work or
genetic dis-temper? On the internet. Every stupid
thing is there, except one, a perpetual
calendar. Nevertheless the World Wide Web
must always remain, like all
neighborhoods, capitalized. It is a rule.
Like investment analysis, which is having enough facts
or dollars, to go on. On.? The Characteriological
thing again. Perhaps I should think in terms
of commodity trading. Intelligence, the Mormons
say is, the Glory of God. Whew. There is nothing
quite like it, depth and dishonor at the same time.
Instant, moment, second, levity. Levitation? Archangels
are hanging from the heavens. And the thing is, truth
is that which cannot be seen, Odd and soothing
though that seems, nothing is essential
in, after all, what must be paradise we are
entering so slowly. I couldn't remember the line
from the shower, so I made up another one about how
there is no reason for those biceps
except art. I wonder which ones this mixed
berry scone is made of. So many people are single
it should not be such a source of discouragement.
The bicycle goes by with playing cards whacking at
its spokes and my heart flies out again. Now, about
these charges: I hate foreign affairs. I remember
again that there is no reason to wear glasses if you
don't want to see. Pick one, a democratic chance,
a wise eye, a confidence man. Now is now.

Contemporary Ruins in Arizona

The amazing town of Jerome, Arizona, an old mining town and an old ghost town,
covers a hillside in Northwest Arizona. Old renovated buildings sit side by side by
ruins in various states of decay and or preservation. Two old hotels are stabilized
barely, but no roofs and a side or two are missing. However, two other ones, one
a former hospital are either totally renovated or on the way. There are ailianthus
trees everywhere (apparently some years ago someone threw seed onto the mountain
top from an airplane and it all washed down to the town (and these Trees that grow
in Brooklyn seem to be the only trees in Jerome). There is the usual Arizona town
letter near the top of the Mountain, a "J" of course, and whitewashed. A variety of
little businesses are, if not fourishing at least struggling. The wares are antiques of
sorts, bottles, mining equipment (this was a mining town, at one time? all owned by Phelps Dodge, the largest "industry" in Arizona.
Nearby, fifty or sixty miles is a ruin of the seventies, Paolo Soleri's Arcosanti, an eco-commune, or at least community of some sort. It is perkily perched, italian style on a nice ravine, more in the high desert area than Jerome. It is showing the signs of
age, and the materials are generally dirty, stained, etc. Weeds seem to abound, but
so do people (almost as many as you see in Jerome).

Sufjan Stevens

is it more or less obsessed to be honest about your self obsession?
Or, how much ironizing is required to distance yourself from sentiment,
poorly played out silliness and triumphant dorkiness, the last three
of which were so abundantly present in the performance of Sufjan
Stevens and his curious 'band" a combination of Paul Simon and a
university pep squad. What a bad idea. An horns too (trombone and
trumpet, as well as the knotty little hairdo of one of the girl guitarists).

Ungaretti

Prayer
tr. of Preghiera

When I am awakened
from the dazzle of this promiscuity
in a calm sphere, amazed

When my weight will make me lighter

The shipwreck will be given to me, Lord
from this young day to the first scream



Return tr. of Ritorno

Twining things in a vast monotony of absence

Now the pale involucro

The obscure blue of wisdom is shattered

Now is a dry covering



Chiaroscuro tr. of Chiaroscuro

Also the graves are open

Black space, infinity falling
from this balcony
to the graveside

I have gone to find
my arab countryman
who was cut away the other night

Day returns

The graves are returning
spread out in the green tetro
of the unlitmate obscurity
in the troubled green
of the first clarity


The Joy of Shipwrecks tr. of Allegria di naufragi

And immediately retaken
the voyage
as
after the shipwreck
a superstition
a wolf of the sea

WCW

"in my life, the furniture eats me."
William Carlos Williams

'this man was just too much'
Robert Coles

'the air you see, was broken'
William Carlos Williams

Reginald Hill

A Ruling Passion (1973)
Third in the series of Yorkshire detective novels, starring Andrew Dalziel and Peter Pascoe. English country murder (three!) with a twist. Very nicely written, smart and interesting.

An April Shroud (1975)
Fourth in the series of Dalziel and Pascoe. The fat detective Dalziel in charge and alone, marooned at an English countryside house, typical spoiled family. Very Iris Murdoch, but without the number of strange and shocking scenes. A watery landscape adds to the atmosphere.

On Beulah Height (1998)
A large lumbering novel, a town inundated to make a reservoir, and the deaths of three (and later a fourth) young girls. The place is very well done, as are some of the characters. Doesn't work as well as Arms and the Women. The Seventeenth in the series

Arms and the Women (1999)
Very elegantly written and designed, an epic of sorts. Most of the characters women and strong ones. Pascoe's wife Ellie takes the lead here. Interspersed is her version of the Aenid. Great Book. Controversially disliked by many. A fat one, but without the fat one. The Eighteenth