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And the subject's no Venus
I keep feeling that I have forgotten how to say anything. I should be used to it by now, but I also keep feeling that doesn't mean I have to like it.
The heat outside is stunning, both in the sense that it is impressive and that it makes you feel poleaxed. I sat on the front steps for a while with Puck of Pook's Hill and so long as I didn't move, I could remain in bare equilibrium with the hundred and one degrees Fahrenheit. When I walked ten feet to meet the postman (I got paid for a poem), I started to overheat.
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teenybuffalo found this photo of me from the Rhysling Slan on Saturday. Speaking of stunned, I look like a case of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. My hair is not, in most lights, actually that color. (Naturally, I think everyone else looks fine.)
On Mass. Ave., there is a bus stop near the Arlington-Cambridge line whose name, thanks to the prerecorded quality of the speakers on the 77, always sounds like "Carhouse Yates." It's not, but I have decided this must be a character's name. You should wonder whether the first part is given or a colorful story and no one, including his biographers, should ever be able to find out.
I wish I were in the sea.
The heat outside is stunning, both in the sense that it is impressive and that it makes you feel poleaxed. I sat on the front steps for a while with Puck of Pook's Hill and so long as I didn't move, I could remain in bare equilibrium with the hundred and one degrees Fahrenheit. When I walked ten feet to meet the postman (I got paid for a poem), I started to overheat.
teenybuffalo found this photo of me from the Rhysling Slan on Saturday. Speaking of stunned, I look like a case of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. My hair is not, in most lights, actually that color. (Naturally, I think everyone else looks fine.)On Mass. Ave., there is a bus stop near the Arlington-Cambridge line whose name, thanks to the prerecorded quality of the speakers on the 77, always sounds like "Carhouse Yates." It's not, but I have decided this must be a character's name. You should wonder whether the first part is given or a colorful story and no one, including his biographers, should ever be able to find out.
I wish I were in the sea.
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At any rate, he's likely to be one of the old Innsmouth Yateses, a lobsterman who does odd jobs in the off-season and gets something strange in his traps once in a while.
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Nine