The image above: can you tell if it was taken while leaving or returning?
Stepped back into my (rather, this) world.
Started to caramelize some onions for dinner.
Tried to make a new website.
Sifted through the lovely handwritten things I received in the mail.
Handwritten on the back of a postcard addressed to me in red ink:
“In modes of speech other than poetry, meaning must be considered public, ideally transmissible; that which is not transmissible is not part of the meaning.
In the case of poetry it is the exact opposite — which is not to say that poems do not contain a transmissible meaning; if there is one, it’s there as a surplus.”
Jacques Roubaud (to surplus!)
(Fascinating note about Roubaud — he was both a professor of poetry AND mathematics. Well, I’ll be damned.)
Chatting with a friend while trying to catch up with and ponder it all:
“…it’s just the hunger that comes out of uncertainty.”
“That is some Neruda-sounding shit. The hunger of uncertainty. I like it. Different than the hunger of stagnancy.”
And later, the same person and conversation:
“Just take the risk. I will be your safety net. You can sleep at the foot of my bed and eat ramen every day, I promise. I am so generous, right?”
Notes from the flight:
- On engagement photos for a couple that does food photography: “Due to a homophonic mix-up, Beth’s recipe calling for flour was replaced by flowers. Now everything’s coming up roses.” Also led to this discovery of Alexis Russell rings, which are among the things that I shouldn’t covet.
- “Prove me right. Break my heart.”
- “Why do you always feel so inevitable to me?”
- “Don’t tell me you’re back here because freedom was inconvenient for you.”