Occasionally, essays grow out of the random accumulation of unrelated ideas that become, in Samuel Johnson’s phrase, “yoked by violence together.” Think of four horses harnessed to the same wagon, each wanting to go off in a different direction, but forced by the driver to pull in the same direction.
Wayne, so lovely to read you on this day in Slovenia when I am thinking about dear Matt Cohen. Rented a car today and drove to three wonderful hill towns in the Illyrian peninsula. A perfect rural landscape, medieval towns perched on hills like a ball in a glove. We have never spoken about Matt. I think about him often. That sidelong gaze, that twittering laugh that often ended with a chirping bounce. He never took me seriously and I loved that about him.
I wish I could take that pebble out of the pond and put him in my palm right now. Matt always had so much to say about everything. His graveyard wit. I want his prediction on this election. His advice about how the sun will keep shining. I think you and Matt shared a kidney. Such are my horses. Love to you and Merilyn! I believe great things are ahead for PIBO. SHINE ON! Davidx
Lovely to hear from you, David. There is no immediately discernible connection between wandering around the Balkans and thinking about Matt, but I get it. Everything one reads about Slovenia focuses on its disastrous ancient history, and these are potentially disastrous times: Matt would have been morbidly pessimistic and fascinated at the same time. He shouldst be living at this hour. See you when you get back!
hey, Wayne, so happy to see the Samuel Johnson quote! he has something for everyone! Closely related is his advice: "Read over your compositions, and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out."
I hadn't thought of Donald Hall for a long time, and finding his book at the library was finding a hidden treasure. I should have mentioned his wife, the poet Jane Kenyon, who was a fine poet and Hall's best friend. She tended toward the melancholic, but could also write lines such as: "I am the heart contracted by joy."
How to get all the horses pulling together…lovely, Wayne. And like David and you, Matt is always near by.xc
Wonderful. Thank you.
Delicious. A gift. Thank you.
Wayne, so lovely to read you on this day in Slovenia when I am thinking about dear Matt Cohen. Rented a car today and drove to three wonderful hill towns in the Illyrian peninsula. A perfect rural landscape, medieval towns perched on hills like a ball in a glove. We have never spoken about Matt. I think about him often. That sidelong gaze, that twittering laugh that often ended with a chirping bounce. He never took me seriously and I loved that about him.
I wish I could take that pebble out of the pond and put him in my palm right now. Matt always had so much to say about everything. His graveyard wit. I want his prediction on this election. His advice about how the sun will keep shining. I think you and Matt shared a kidney. Such are my horses. Love to you and Merilyn! I believe great things are ahead for PIBO. SHINE ON! Davidx
Lovely to hear from you, David. There is no immediately discernible connection between wandering around the Balkans and thinking about Matt, but I get it. Everything one reads about Slovenia focuses on its disastrous ancient history, and these are potentially disastrous times: Matt would have been morbidly pessimistic and fascinated at the same time. He shouldst be living at this hour. See you when you get back!
I know it's not a competition, Wayne, but this is one of the best yet -- if not THE best. :-)
Thanks, Sandra: I think as writers we are always in competition with ourselves. That way we can't lose.
hey, Wayne, so happy to see the Samuel Johnson quote! he has something for everyone! Closely related is his advice: "Read over your compositions, and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out."
Thanks, Marylee: That's a particularly fine passage. I'm glad Johnson didn't take his own advice.
Love Donald Hall’s work, he was a good friend and associate of Paul’s cousin Bob Hall—no relation except they both taught at the same university.
I hadn't thought of Donald Hall for a long time, and finding his book at the library was finding a hidden treasure. I should have mentioned his wife, the poet Jane Kenyon, who was a fine poet and Hall's best friend. She tended toward the melancholic, but could also write lines such as: "I am the heart contracted by joy."