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Abruptness
Wakened by the phone. The doctor wants blood tests redone – liver functions awry, apparently; no surprise. And an argument over the many vitamins I take: we already had a rather boring and inconclusive squabble over this last week – it’s not exactly that he disapproves, but clearly he has latched on to them as…
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The Book of the Sun
My room grows larger, and daily there is less in it, but it only becomes more beautiful: when small rugs fade and vanish one by one, the bright bare wood floor can be seen, echoing the differently grained walls of the many bookcases. The various small light sources, floor lamps, swiveling and jointed, vanish gradually,…
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Correcting blogs
Spurious has made a small error on his May 14 post, where he mentions coming by and looking through Temblor (the Language Poet anthology/journals I keep at the very end of the Poetry bookcase), Milosz, Xenakis, etc. – he says I copied Berio for him; it was in fact Henze, but the most radical and…
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Consequences
A Monday morning, and a gray one: appropriate for these vague feelings of not being caught up, of not being ready, of not having done what needs to be done. Several administrative e-mails arrived Friday, and I haven’t done anything about them; my digestion is unhappy, the back of my mind is turning over whether…
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Jumping aboard
I’m starting this blog on a typically chilly gray day in this northern city of exile. I still don’t know exactly how I’ll construct this virtual world – thinking of my own journals, my own writings, other blogs, even the whole elaborate ecosystem of the blogsphere – but, as in everything, jumping in is the…
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Paul Attinello 