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kraada mondegreened the title of my last post into "Restricted, living in a lighthouse," which then gave him the image of a lighthousekeeper who is also a siren, guiding ships to safety to atone for all she drowned. I think this is brilliant. (And for some reason YA, although this might just be because I picked up a Mollie Hunter I hadn't read at the Harvard Book Store yesterday. I was looking for The Mermaid Summer (1988), but The Walking Stones (1970) will still make a good present.) He gave it to me, but all I'm thinking about today are autumn and ghosts. I'm not sure I do safe harbor.
2. There's no getting away from dybbuks. I don't mean that metaphysically. I mean that I was reading Shirley Kumove's introduction to Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005) and ran across the statement: "I came to the poetry of Anna Margolin as a member of the Yiddish Women Writers' Study Group in Toronto. We began by reading poetry in Yiddish, and Anna Margolin's poems made an immediate powerful impression on me: her images possessed me like a dybbuk. Margolin haunted me for the better part of five years as I tried to understand her work." So she becomes a translator, giving the restless spirit new body in English. It is a bilingual edition, though, so you can still hear Margolin speaking in her own voice. Which is, in some ways, the thing that dybbuks really do: your lips, their words. Their melodies.
3. The seasonal impostor syndrome, the sense of dislocation and futility crashed back in about a day ago; I appreciate that it held off through my birthday, but I don't like that it's been here since. I had lunch with Dean yesterday and dinner withrushthatspeaks and gaudior, after which I showed some more Legend of Korra to the latter and then met the former at the Diesel on my way home. I couldn't find my gloves after half an hour of going through my closet and so my hands are freezing, typing with a quite warm cat beside me. I feel like I'm going to have to fight for this season. I was hoping it would just be good.
kraada mondegreened the title of my last post into "Restricted, living in a lighthouse," which then gave him the image of a lighthousekeeper who is also a siren, guiding ships to safety to atone for all she drowned. I think this is brilliant. (And for some reason YA, although this might just be because I picked up a Mollie Hunter I hadn't read at the Harvard Book Store yesterday. I was looking for The Mermaid Summer (1988), but The Walking Stones (1970) will still make a good present.) He gave it to me, but all I'm thinking about today are autumn and ghosts. I'm not sure I do safe harbor.2. There's no getting away from dybbuks. I don't mean that metaphysically. I mean that I was reading Shirley Kumove's introduction to Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005) and ran across the statement: "I came to the poetry of Anna Margolin as a member of the Yiddish Women Writers' Study Group in Toronto. We began by reading poetry in Yiddish, and Anna Margolin's poems made an immediate powerful impression on me: her images possessed me like a dybbuk. Margolin haunted me for the better part of five years as I tried to understand her work." So she becomes a translator, giving the restless spirit new body in English. It is a bilingual edition, though, so you can still hear Margolin speaking in her own voice. Which is, in some ways, the thing that dybbuks really do: your lips, their words. Their melodies.
3. The seasonal impostor syndrome, the sense of dislocation and futility crashed back in about a day ago; I appreciate that it held off through my birthday, but I don't like that it's been here since. I had lunch with Dean yesterday and dinner with
rushthatspeaks and gaudior, after which I showed some more Legend of Korra to the latter and then met the former at the Diesel on my way home. I couldn't find my gloves after half an hour of going through my closet and so my hands are freezing, typing with a quite warm cat beside me. I feel like I'm going to have to fight for this season. I was hoping it would just be good.
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