and as arduous as they might be, may we cultivate Bon courage, as Rodin declared to Rilke once when he wished him goodnight.
The Day After of the 2016 Election
The Flight of the Maidens by Jane Gardam
You’d have to have a heart of stone not to love this novel. Three young women lounging in an ancient graveyard in the Yorkshire sticks that Gardam knows so well have all received good news.
Three Poems on the Sierra Minera
The steps down to this labyrinth are large no problem for my feet as many are. Miners who grew up in the job were small.
Wind River: A Film by Taylor Sheridan
You’d think the Western was played out. That after Peckinpah’s wild bunch had shot its way through a line of temperance marchers, Jodorowsky had treated us to his gunslinger-and-naked-kid acid trip of El Topo, and we’d watched Charles Bronson’s and Jill Ireland’s three hour love story in the comedy Western From Noon Till Three there’d be nothing left. Nope. The Western is the zombie-genre of American film. Just when you think it’s dead it heaves back to life.
The Maids by Junichiro Tanizaki
Reading The Maids is like eavesdropping on an intimate Japanese conservation.
Buskers
At the time we had no money, our acoustic guitars, lots of cafes and bars to hang out at, friends to make, streets to meander and minds to expand and experiences to have, sights to behold, girls to meet, facts to unlearn, music to discover and ideas to mature. We were young and free-thinking and knowingly swimming against the current, and in all of that the world was our oyster, and we could just sit back on the beach and listen to the song of the sea.