The recently acquired collection of Shakespeare prints reminds me of the heavy old albums of 78 rpm records we have tucked away in one of our old cabinets, and which were around and still played on occasion during my childhood years. It also reminds me of many other things that used to be solid, substantial, and made to last, such as furniture and pots and pans. But ours is not […]
Well, I’ll put them somewhere. Then I’ll move about among them, admire them as I pass, and take them every now and then from their shelf or stack. I’ll read a few lines at random; I’ll marvel at how they’re made, and feel their weight in my hands. For now, though, they’re still on my desk. Melville, as it turns out, is rather perfumey — something I didn’t notice at […]
Note: To operate the camera, cradle your life in such a way, standing above it, and in it, looking down, through it, and all around, from childhood to dawn, then press the button that takes the picture — and be sure not to frown, when you realize you forgot the film. . Thoreau’s journal, entries for March 2 and March 4, 1854. The First Bluebird. Golden Senecio Leaves. The Melting […]
Early this afternoon, someone’s grocery delivery was left on our doorstep. We called the store, the name of which was printed on the bags, and told them it wasn’t ours, but no one there knew anything about it, and we learned in the process that the store doesn’t make deliveries. We thought perhaps the food items were meant for our neighbors next door, and I was on my way to […]
I collect sentences as I collected sticks and feathers when I was a boy, and then I forget them when night-time comes. How much of pain can be attributed to its original cause, and how much to the fear it will grow worse, and maybe not end? If I’m still alive at suppertime, I think I’ll set the table with the yellow dishes my parents often used when I was […]
My body language — the way I walk, sit, and stand — would it be the same if I had no clothes? How much of my physical attitude and self-perception is in the clothing I wear? How much of my perception of others is in the clothing they wear? When we meet, do we meet each other, or do we meet each other’s clothes? We’re born naked, wearing a uniformly […]
The harvest is rich, that we may be the kinder. Read The Rambler, Numb. 1. Tuesday, March 20, 1750, by Samuel Johnson. Received as a Christmas gift from “The Children” in 2015: The Rambler. In Four Volumes. The Tenth Edition. London: Printed for S. Strahan, J. Rivington and Sons, B. Collins, T. Longman, B. Law, C. Dilly, T. Carnan, J. Robson, G. Robinson, T. Lowndes, T. Cadell, W. Cater, H. […]
A genuine fall rain, windless, steady, straight down. Sixty degrees. Feet and legs wet from walking at a leisurely pace through a large commercial parking lot. Sandals and puddles. Let us practice nonavoidance, and proclaim it our beliefless, faithless faith. On the front sidewalk, met with a wet, stubborn bee. Old Books. Brief prefatory note by Robert Wiedeman Barrett “Pen” Browning (here signed R.B.B.). The Letters of Robert Browning and […]
If I am correct about the year, I first read Dostoevsky in 1984, on an airplane bound for Israel and the old city of Jerusalem. I had bought a paperback copy of The Brothers Karamazov, not quite aware at the time that I was beginning at the end, with what is considered the great writer’s crowning achievement. I read for several hours from Los Angeles to New York, and then […]
William Michaelian 