Today was one of those days when I could not get out of my own way. I was reading in Anne Carson's new translations of Euripides; in one of her essays either introducing or concluding the book, she mentioned Renato Rosaldo's essay "Grief and a Headhunter's Rage," which has been kicking around in my brain ever since. So this morning, after having made a note yesterday--about grief, willingness, rage, all of which are, I think, bound together in this poem I'm working on, and maybe the whole manuscript--I couldn't let the idea of finding a copy of this essay go. Is it online? you ask. No! It isn't. The whole project of being pissed off about that fact took a good hour of my morning. So much so that I started to think Bruiser was trying to be the boss of me again, and I had to kick my own butt out the door, where I opened my eyes and saw this:
This afternoon, downtown to catch Slumdog Millionaire with Dr. Write, I saw this while I was waiting out in front of the Broadway:
Last Friday, when I was downtown because our car was being worked on, I saw this:
Something about the short days, the lessening by degrees of the light, the end of the year--it adds up to something I have to grapple with, something unwilling in me, resistant. I don't love this about myself. I think this is why it's so important to remember: go outside and breathe, take in some air, open my eyes.
very cool pictures...ReplyDelete
i can't wait to see you!!!
i'm sorry to have been so confusingly frustrating today... LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!
As you probably found out through Google, the essay is anthologized in Ways of Reading. I have a copy of Ways in my office but you probably do too. If not you can certainly have mine.ReplyDelete
BTW what a wonderful essay--a fascinating exploration of grief, one that really pushed me (and my students) to engage/imagine/face up to the Other.