Letters & Essays
Art & Photography
If you were in the land of the living in ’93, you’ll remember a song called “All That She Wants,” by the Swedish band Ace of Base. I don’t know anybody who resisted that song. I, who usually hate songs like that (porny-poppy, slick, compu…
I hold no greater value / than the secret / Please believe I strive / to share ...
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Perpetual peace. Perpetual light. / From a distance it all seems graffiti. / Gold on gold. Iridescent, torqued phosphors. / But still graffiti. Someone’s smear on space. / A name. A neighborhood. X. X was Here.
“People are too busy putting things under microscopes and so forth. Creativity is greater than the sum of its parts.”
I wrote the first draft of my novel Heartbreaker in a ten-day mania in August 2015 with a fist-size bandage over my left ear; beneath it, a track of dark-blue stitches. The smallest bone in the human body, my stapes bone, which is charged with co…
Today I have learned a great lesson; our cook was my teacher. She is twenty-five years old and she’s French. I discovered that she does not know that Louis-Philippe is no longer king of France and we now have a republic. And yet it has been five years since he left the throne. She said the fact that he is no longer king simply does not interest her in the least—those were her words.
John Ashbery Made a few collages in the 1940s while he was a student at Harvard. He made several more in the 1970s. Some of those were lost and then, years later, found in a shoebox. Others were thrown out.
I have a friend who has a friend / Who asked her to place her hand / And place a flower on Samuel Beckett’s grave / On his behalf.