Nothing says European travel like having to go to two German airports in one day. Word to the wise, the only times I have missed flights have been through German airports. Do NOT order the sausages that come with fresh pretzels in Munich. The sausages will arrive floating in a pot of boiling water and they are bright white and you will never want a sausage again. When I saw it, I started cry-laughing. Criterion is showing a collection of Eric Rohmer films and watching Pauline at the Beach last night gave me visceral horror that I have dated an Eric Rohmer man (profligate) and recently (shame on me!). Have you? And which one? I should write a long musing on the archetype of the Eric Rohmer man. They are just so ANNOYING. They swan around in their colourful shirting and say, “I’m a man! I can’t help myself! These are my masculine urges!”
Corsica was restorative and I am supposed to be this tanned all year round. As I tried to edit by the pool (longhand, I travel with my printed manuscript), some of the editorial comments flew into the water and I had to ask myself, “What is the universe trying to tell me?” After twenty-four hours of sleepless travel trying to get to the island, the last straw was arriving at the villa’s gate, attempting to push it open and it FALLING ON ME! (“C’est tombé!”).
Watching many of the people I know suffer through the European heatwave is fascinating. If you were around this time last year, you would have read me complain about going into psychosis when it reached 40 degrees celsius (104 Fahrenheit). Once it reaches a certain kind of heat I start believing in fairies.
Observations on Corsica:
-All the women are beautiful and glamorous… the men are just there
-The nicest kind of French people
-The Corsican dialect is FASCINATING: “Bonghjornu” “Avvedeci”
-When they say sharp turns, they mean sharp turns
-I didn’t know it, but I was called to Corsica because all the women really dress for their day in town and all have Pomeranians
-The nature is varied with drastically different climates within the island and from one beach to another: mountains, pebbles, sand… it has it all!
A list of things I never considered about Villa living:
Ticks
Feral Pigs
Cows wandering onto your property to swim in your pool (a very serious and real problem apparently)
Frogs and toads SCREAMING all night
The next time I’m in New York I am planning on going to the Morgan Library for their exhibition on Tarot which opened today. I pulled a few cards yesterday to aid with my editing process and the last one was the STRENGTH card. The other day was eight of pentacles…I get it, I must work work work.
In March, I fixated on estate auctions. I bought a few things, one was a letter from Joan Crawford sending a thank you to a Michaele for sending CARNATIONS, “Your glorious carnations and lemon leaves are as fresh as the day you sent them. The white carnations, with their rims a delicate pink, look as if you had hand-painted the edges of each petal.” I did not win a letter sent by Helen Frankenthaler (it sold so far out of my price-range for $7500) that said, “Beautiful memories and (hangoverless) dreams of Sunday, shrimps, sauces, eau de vie, oh d’astrologie.”
What I DID get was a signed lithograph by Leonor Fini… For much less than a handbag. See, if I had money money I could really DO things.
I despise the white noise aspect of having a newsletter and the pressure of publishing it regularly (which, I think is made up in my mind but let me tell you it WEIGHS ON ME). There are some authors on here that I just feel… I would prefer to keep the mystery alive. Capitalism is making Mary Gaitskill have a newsletter and this is a tragedy. We must allow space for artists to be strange, anti-social and completely unamenable to what is required of them. If you’re one of my subscribers I assume you understand this about me and I thank you for it because then I get to do my own swanning around and this helps the work in the end.
CIAO FOR NOW!
Oh that Fini lithograph is exquisite! And regarding frequency of newsletter publication: Many of the newsletters to which I subscribe are written by the kind of people whose engagement with the world is extraordinary and admirable. It might be engagement on a grand scale, the wide world that is out there -- on a small scale, a town, a home, a single book or film -- on an interior scale, the intricacies of the self. Whenever these authors don't publish a newsletter for however long, I assume it's because they're practicing that engagement, and am pleased because that engagement also sustains me. Your newsletter is like that.
oh i need to spend more time on estate auctions