Thursday, February 7, 2019

lonely as the red noses of four clowns

  • Two photos in six hours yesterday of Maryland hiking talisman for us, a tweet saying I can't hike at a photo of the trail we hike most often (Browning Run, best in park) and a Post article about a town we drive through a dozen times a year to get to the AT.
  • I'm fine w NL teams losing World Series because they don't invest millions in half a baseball player
  • Is weird, I'm a cranky old bastard about National League baseball, I know the hired help want it, but I hate the DH, go ahead and kill it. Please.
  • The experience of experience.
  • Dear Virginia Democrats: give me $50 and I'll never visit to Richmond again, will swerve by on 295.
  • It's working:

  • I didn't think it would
  • jinxed now it still might
  • Found at Second Story on Parklawn month or two ago
  • Hamster, Eddie from 848 works late nights
  • I currently abhor dialogue in novels, it dawned on me, my problem with novels now
  • I've been able only to read Murnane and Proust, not a coincidence
  • dialogue, no one talks in real life like characters in novels are typed talking (except Gaddis characters)
  • I can't
  • but Elkin knows, so his logorrhea works, it always has.
  • Hey, there's new Bob Mould:

GRACIOUS LIVING                "TARA"

Tom Raworth

lonely as four cherries on a tree
at night, new moon, wet roads
a moth or a snowflake
whipping past glass
lonely as the red noses of four clowns
thrust up through snow
their shine four whitened panes
drawn from imagined memory
lonely as no other lives
touching to recorded water
all objects stare
their memories aware
lonely as pain
recoiling from itself
imagining the cherries
and roses reaching out