up this morning early in the still dark to have some good chunk of time without the whirring sound of the fan and cooler. and in this dark with the only light being this screen i am in New York City at a reading of Lydia Davis. and then i go on to an email (!) interview~ she and The Believer. and i realize how firmly i had shut that door to the part of me that "wrote" and loved looking at how others place and arrange words. and this was good to know.
but the best was next. the coffee ready, i sat down in the "morning chair", turned on the sewing light which is nicely dim at this time of day and began the ritual of sorting through thoughts and feelings of this day in August, 2011 and there whipping around under the lamplight were two FLIES and at first i was incensed…… i am so sick of flies, they just won't QUIT
but because, i am sure, because of having gone to New York already and attended this poetry reading, and thought about translating Proust or whoever, it suddenly occurred to me that those two flies were just having fun that they were doing really very funny things flying in amazingly acrobatic forms disappearing and reappearing in the envelopes there jumping on eachother from behind the highlighter pen they were FUNNY!
so…thanks, Michelle. who'dve guessed.
windthread 
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