Wednesday, December 17, 2008


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:

and 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.


  1. very cool pictures...
    i can't wait to see you!!!
    i'm sorry to have been so confusingly frustrating today... LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!

  2. WOW!!!!!! Stunning.

  3. 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.

    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.



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