an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Thursday, February 15, 2007

. . . .


I'll be staying at the Marriott in Atlanta. If you're going to AWP, I'd like to see you, Okay? Drop me a note before we get there. Send me your cell, I'll send you mine. I'm feeling sociable.


Bathtub epiphany: a memory, really, that Zali was most disappointed when the guy turned out to be a pompous ass. That's what he called him: "a pompous ass." And he was furious--I've never seen Zali angry besides that--and not for his sake but for my sake--and I thought at the time, if this guy only knew... But knew what? Would it change the guy's pompous asshood that Zali is utterly amazing and that everyone, beautiful brilliant people, adore him? Of course not. And I remember being relieved too, a little grateful, after searching for a way to describe that experience and not being able to say quite what that Zali (I bow to you, dear poet) had words immediately. He didn't say asshole. He said ass.


It was the same night he said "ass too is nothing." But that was another context.


Fortune cookie:

"Come back later... I am sleeping. (yes cookies need their sleep, too)"


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


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