A list (of of mine).

things I love today/i love today’s things/ today’s love-things/in love, today’s things/a lovely day for things/things of today (love)/a day of love, a love of things

  • flowers in the canyon, my favorite ones possibly a pea relative
  • talking to my mom twice in one day
  • plans for soup (carrot ginger; “what a mom soup!” sarah exclaimed yesterday in her lavish hotel, 2 beds and 2 glass water bottles, filet of salmon, sparkling water & dessert!)
  • finishing a book in bed (“tales of a city” by amistead maupin)
  • starting a new book at the table
  • plans for tonight that involve misha and i sitting close then standing close then coming home
  • the idea of going home in august, and by home i mean, among other things, ladyfriends
  • the film “aimee and jaguar”
  • katie farris’ little book
  • knowing how to make little books because of art class
  • james schuyler (!)
  • loquats (first of the season eaten today, 2-3 browngold seeds per fruit)
  • sun-n-clouds
  • making up more of these names: may gray. june gloom. july cloud-ie, march starch, august smoggest… (san diegans love a rhyme for clouds)
  • the combination of purple & black
  • sideyard poetry reading coming up…april 22nd in the sideyard, poster to come
  • NPR’s all songs 24/7 music station
  • SARAH KATZ HAS A JOB SARAH KATZ HAS A JOB OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMGOMG

We never know what will save us (Bob Dylan).

Today it’s The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. Specifically these songs:

Girl from the North Country

Masters of War

A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall

Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right

Oxford Town

Corrina, Corrina

And now I’m thinking about college: about Charles Hartman, and Jen Superson, and Andrew Oedel–about second semester of senior year, when Winged Nike was right outside the window and my refrigerator had only pickles & cheese inside it and my jeans got lost in Sam’s room for so long that when I got them back, they felt new. And dinner was a far walk away but at least we never had to cook it. And we did this on the streets of New London:

Now Andrew’s in his own real band and doesn’t have to pretend anymore. Now Jen is somewhere in NY gesturing excitedly, I’ll bet.

Now I’m in a house that smells of sweetgrass, with a lot of papers all around that mean I’ve done hard work, and also that I have all of it to do. Robert Hughes once said, “The greater the artist, the greater the doubt. Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize.” God I hope so.

A song is a poem (and not just because of lyrics).

Just when I thought I’d finally gotten over this song…I’m presented with a new reason to love it.

Chelsea Hotel No. 2 by Leonard Cohen

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn’t you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don’t need you,
I need you, I don’t need you
and all of that jiving around.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, “Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music.”

I don’t mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can’t keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that’s all, I don’t even think of you that often.