I am fairly embarrassed to call myself a blogger lately – as you can tell I’ve had other things on my mind and keeping up with everything is difficult – So, I’ve read almost no blogs, written very little in mine and in general am none too fazed by this.
The words on the page look foreign to me and today we recall the death of Willem de Kooning. Becoming a ghost of his own brush stoke today in 1997.
Listening to Chopin, Opus 34, no. 2 in A minor – Writing a letter to a friend who I owe more than just that letter. I managed to nap between nine pm and eleven pm. awake now or still I can only think about Willem and Chopin, My friend and my pajamas.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 