I woke up on Monday, November 7th with the phrase, “Strike down the mastery of the mystery machine” in my head. It had something to do with a vague dream about turning some language problems into poetry. As I got up and got ready to do yoga, some other phrases tumbled out: “Strike down the mystery of the mastery machine/ we only get along because our languages do/ Bite back the mastery of the mystery machine/ we don’t get along because our languages don’t/ Squirrel words / bear words / bare words / can’t bear their words/ mastery of the history machine”. There’s something there, but I’ll have to dig it out after knocking it around for a while.
There
was also, “If I shout loud enough about some far away pain, no one will guess
that I am talking bout me.”
I’ve
been learning a song by Serge Gainsbourg called, “Les Yeux Pour Pleurer” and
I’m learning it from a recording by Nana Mouskouri. Holy crap that woman can
sing! I’m just used to picking up the words of songs the way they are sung. I’m
not used to being moved every morning by a singer. It’s very distracting, but I
am learning the song, though the way she climbs up and down the scale makes it
very difficult to nail down the song’s chords.
I
spent the day catching up on my journal and reading a boring essay about “what
is literature?”
For
dinner I made a soup out of vegetable broth, carrots, squash, sautéed onions
and ground chicken.
I
watched an episode of the Lucy-Desi Hour. It’s really not as good as the half
hour long “I Love Lucy” series. It doesn’t have the same charm most of the
time.
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