The Movement of a Caravan over the Landscape
By Sarah Manguso
That we rode harder into the wind,
That the story got told,
That the broken candies were eaten first,
That they were eaten last,
That all subjects grew extinct eventually,
That in the inn I ruined our lives,
That in the barn I tried to save them,
That I failed,
That per Fitzgerald the manner remains intact for some time after the morale cracks,
That in the interregna all suffer equally,
That the languages we are born ready to speak leave us one by one,
That unless we’re actively procreating we’re acting metaphorically,
That I’ve never been to France,
That I’ve been to Ohio,
That I remember almost nothing I did there,
That it is meaningless to say I liked that,
That emotions accumulate into a few categories,
That each new one is itself plus everything like itself,
That when animals act like people we love them more,
That when they do we want them never to stop,
That we give them the names we wish we had,
That men have children and manufacture new mothers,
That I anticipate escaping my fate or not,
That I anticipate the future by never buying groceries,
That I know the flesh is incidental but keep so many photographs,
That the story gets told,
That it was the reason for these various movements.
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Sorry I've been AWOL and this will be brief, but I was happily busy nearly all day. I celebrated Yule with
I have both Kirk and Spock languishing in boxes. Some day I suppose I should put up a tree in the middle of July when no one could possible assume it was a Christmas tree and display all my Star Trek ornaments.
My parents came over in the evening for fondue for Chanukah -- the tradition is to eat foods cooked in oil to commemorate the miracle of the oil lasting eight days -- so the eating didn't stop there, either.
GMR has finally published my review of The Prestige, though those of you who followed my conversations in comments here with
And if you are wondering where your holiday card from me is, with any luck it will be in the mail on Monday!
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