26.3.09
18.3.09
#24
Bongos:
I'm finding I'm more like my father everyday in that I rarely place trust in the news from abroad. Perhaps we're too alike, finding it difficult enough, at most times, to micronavigate our own quotidian raptures and displacements, thrown aside by not the workaday chores but the simple things. I awake cold and find my window ajar, and I know not whether to crawl further under my blanket or get up toclose the damn thing. All I get is a rough draft, for the blanket is never comforter enough. In raising myself I erase the conflict I sought to solve. It is then time to read the newspaper, to see the news from abroad. At such moments, when I'm lucky, the print lades my person such that I stop taking for granite the walks outside, filled as I become with uncertainty, no phoresy between the hosts and the meanings in cargo. On better days the news from abroad tells me more about my personal imaginary than that outside, and keeps me going when I see that friend from God knows how long ago, when the conversation stalls after the hey how are yous. Brings my teeth back to that small chatter that I've missed since morning and adds a little guttural companion. That old did you hear the news from abroad.
Brass:
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