The weather is rather cold today. While waiting to cross the street an image of a girl occurred to me. It was a Saturday night (late) and while she was attempting to a hail a cab uptown I held her shivering in my arms. Then two days later I saw her and she was sassin' me because the weather was in the 60s and I was uncomfortably over-dressed. Now silence and absence. I like to think of these two incidents as happening in separate seasons. Feels better that way, despite it being fictitious-- I'm tired of being disappointed in people. Which doesn't mean you won't be disappointed in me-- that's a rewrite only worthy of Proust's talents.
Speaking of novels, I finished B: A Novel by Jonathan Baumbach today. It's a fragmented story of a writer/academic who, suprise, is inept at relationships. Yeah we've all read this novel before... and yet I still enjoyed it.
Speaking of reading here's three new issues of poetry for you to feast on:
Anti-
Harp & Altar
The Cortland Review
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