Homo Vitruvius represents my literary face to the world while I work on novels behind the scenes. Dedicated to the essay form, both personal and intellectual, with forays into creative nonfiction, poetry, fiction, and more, it is my weekly creative engagement with the world. Every subscriber, free or paid, is appreciated and valued. As I say, you read; therefore, the writer exists. But if you can afford the paid subscription, that encouragement and support of my work and what I offer here delivers an affirmation almost beyond my ability to express in words. Thank you for reading.
Wonderful, Jay. I see how you would have to remember and promptly record this conversation to get the gaps of it right. And, oh, you did! I can feel the delight of new info and frustration with its paucity and humor and character all together. Finely done!
Makes me think of the interviews I should have recorded with both my parents. The gaps here, Jay. What we don't know, need to know. The unsaid--not unlike _Waiting for Word_.
Oh, don't I wish, Mary, I had recorded actual interviews myself, in addition to these casual conversations that I recall with such pleasure. And the connection to the poetry, yes. Thanks for seeing that.
This exchange made me laugh, and, forgive me, Jay, but it reminded me of the "sanity clause" bit between Groucho and Chico while discussing the terms of a contract (i.e., "The party of the first part is called the first part." etc.). We've probably all experienced some similar - and similarly frustrating - instance that can only be rewarded by persistence and repetition. It's a great exchange to include, because we don't need description or explanation to understand and appreciate the setting and particular scene in which this exchange occurs.
No need to forgive, Maureen. That's exactly what it was like, a Marx brother's routine! And I love the Marx brothers. Aside from watching their movies on TV as a child, and You Bet Your Life, too, it was a thing among potheads in the 70s to get high and go see their films in the revival houses to laugh until we hurt. While they were, needless to say, otherwise nothing alike, as old men, Groucho and Mac were physically alike. I've recently watched clips of old Groucho with Dick Cavett, of whom Groucho was especially fond as a younger comedian, and his affection for him feels familiar. To bring this Groucho lovefest to an end, I cut this out of one of the recent chapters, but my parents are buried in the same cemetery as Groucho Marx. :)
“What then, by horse?” This is so droll and loving and infused with a Jewish sensibility rooted in another world. Mac sounds a lot like my grandmother, who came from a shtetl in Ukraine and took many mysteries to the grave. You must wonder what else he never told you.
Oh, I do wonder what he never told me. That's the next chapter. But of course you hit on just the remark. I hear his voice in it and feel his spirit. It makes me happy.
So hard to excavate the personal histories even of those closest to us. Loved this exchange.
Thanks, Josh. And then to understand our own history -- biography -- in relation to theirs.
Wonderful, Jay. I see how you would have to remember and promptly record this conversation to get the gaps of it right. And, oh, you did! I can feel the delight of new info and frustration with its paucity and humor and character all together. Finely done!
Thanks, Tara. Yes -- the gaps. There is, contradictorily, so much in those gaps! :)
Makes me think of the interviews I should have recorded with both my parents. The gaps here, Jay. What we don't know, need to know. The unsaid--not unlike _Waiting for Word_.
Oh, don't I wish, Mary, I had recorded actual interviews myself, in addition to these casual conversations that I recall with such pleasure. And the connection to the poetry, yes. Thanks for seeing that.
This exchange made me laugh, and, forgive me, Jay, but it reminded me of the "sanity clause" bit between Groucho and Chico while discussing the terms of a contract (i.e., "The party of the first part is called the first part." etc.). We've probably all experienced some similar - and similarly frustrating - instance that can only be rewarded by persistence and repetition. It's a great exchange to include, because we don't need description or explanation to understand and appreciate the setting and particular scene in which this exchange occurs.
No need to forgive, Maureen. That's exactly what it was like, a Marx brother's routine! And I love the Marx brothers. Aside from watching their movies on TV as a child, and You Bet Your Life, too, it was a thing among potheads in the 70s to get high and go see their films in the revival houses to laugh until we hurt. While they were, needless to say, otherwise nothing alike, as old men, Groucho and Mac were physically alike. I've recently watched clips of old Groucho with Dick Cavett, of whom Groucho was especially fond as a younger comedian, and his affection for him feels familiar. To bring this Groucho lovefest to an end, I cut this out of one of the recent chapters, but my parents are buried in the same cemetery as Groucho Marx. :)
“What then, by horse?” This is so droll and loving and infused with a Jewish sensibility rooted in another world. Mac sounds a lot like my grandmother, who came from a shtetl in Ukraine and took many mysteries to the grave. You must wonder what else he never told you.
Oh, I do wonder what he never told me. That's the next chapter. But of course you hit on just the remark. I hear his voice in it and feel his spirit. It makes me happy.