Although these days by all appearances I write very little, the fact is, I’m writing as much as ever or more. But instead of publishing that writing here, or anywhere else online, I’m leaving it, in all its inky and papery glory, snug and secure in my journal. I add something every day, sometimes as many as three or four pages. I enjoy doing it. It gives me a good […]
It takes time to dust three thousand books, and to clean the shelves, tables, and various perches they’re on — several days, in fact. Not that it couldn’t have all been done in one. But then it would have been a job. And so I admired the bindings, paged through many volumes, and did my best to remember when and where I’d found them and brought them home. Those that […]
It’s a funny thing. I say I’m going to write letters, and I actually do write a few, then, soon enough, my letter-writing degenerates into postcards and poems. It’s been that kind of winter — that kind of life. You, there, cozy on your couch; you, hunched and bunched at your desk; you, with your laptop, tablet, and phone — don’t think I’m not mindful of my promise, or my […]
It’s cold here, with an inch of snow and ice on the ground. Later today, an ice storm is expected, after which a warming rain should set in, freeing up the roads. Through it all, we marvel at the birds, the tiny ones especially, the hearty juncos; and then there are the romping squirrels, whose instinct for play hasn’t abated a whit. I was prompted to write this morning by […]
The long nights, the deep, dark days, the eerie, sublime chill, shadows hidden within shadows, naked limbs, moss in every crevice and seam — if I’m lucky enough to emerge come spring, how can I arrive unchanged? In the street of an early morning, I’m amazed by the relentless human roar, the gasping of brakes, the grinding of gears, the howling of wheels, and I think, What means Sanity if […]
If I seem preoccupied with books, it’s because I am. The fact is, if I never bought another, I still have enough to last me several lifetimes. And among them are a great many that are well worth reading again. So it should come as no surprise, that as winter closes in and my little thrift store lamps come on, I have mostly set my computer aside and dedicated myself […]
Once again, it’s time to pause — to look up, to look around, to look within. And so for an indefinite period, I’ll be taking a break from publishing, and from most other online activity, including reading and social media, and giving myself up not only to the bright, cold days of winter, but to books, ink, paper, and private correspondence instead. Yours always with thanks and warm regards, William […]
A refreshing run in a driving wind early this morning, and a brisk walk this afternoon. In between, a lot of dusting, cleaning, and laundry. A change of furnace filters. As of three o’clock, no books opened, but several picked up, dusted, and put down again. No borders recognized, no sides taken, no flags raised or waved. November 11, 2023. . [ 1925 ]
I didn’t turn on the computer this morning until seven-thirty, after I’d been up for three and a half hours. I exercised, I ran, I sipped my six-ounce cup of pour-over coffee; I ate breakfast; I sat, not thinking or doing anything at all. I took a shower, dried myself, and rubbed some olive oil on my heels. Only then, after making a cup of chamomile tea, did I open […]
The morning was spent in the company of a roofer, in pursuit of a leak we noticed in time last night to prevent damage to our old upright piano. Luckily, only a little water landed on a paperback containing the poems of Ezra Pound, leaving the young Ezra with a gentle wave in his hair. Had the water reached the Jonathan Swift set from 1812 and 1813, I — but […]
William Michaelian 