So this is not an elegy, it is an investigation, inquiry of beauty slipping, tumbling down the gentle sidewalk slope, catastrophe of flowers, complicit now with history, marks of what was done what we aim to do tomorrow. Everything revealed itself to us sitting on those thick rough granite blocks, giggling, eating grapes, but uselessly revealed, as if one saw one day as plain as a walnut the fatal bump under the skin, all clear, all present, but no more use in the event than a newspaper to a stray dog. We saw it as blueberries see the rain. Completely, and completely helpless. I am sitting in Paris alone writing now, was never able to write this at home. There, one must always DO something.
from my boss’s book Astoria. It reminds me quite a bit of his epic poetry book, Ellis Island. Every sentence commands your attention and frequently sends that attention spiraling into the stratosphere of “Goddamn….who…what are we talking about here?” More than anything else this is what it is most like to work with him. Vibrant, full of energy, and demanding. I adore working with him, he frequently makes me think that there is a place for me in academia even though most signs point to “no,” especially today. Eventually, even people you really look up to will let you down, and it doesn’t matter how good you are to them or vice versa; I’m guilty of this as well, I’ve probably done this more times than I can count. I hate being a Debbie Downer, or a DePressive (man, am I clever right?) but some days it’s difficult to think beyond your first immediate thought. Today is one of those days for me.