HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Saturday, June 28, 2008 the man at the gate been reading a bunch of philip roths that the place where i work published. i also brought home ozick's heir to the glimmering world. i have an idea for a novel: about a country where spoken words have to be purchased. it opens with a birthday scene, and the line, "for my son's birthday we bought him a birthday song. it was expensive, but i did it on a whim, much to my husband's annoyance." called home. my sister described my grandfather's body. the weirdest thing was that it didn't look like a person's body, she said, i went for the pre-funeral events, then flew to london and couldn't attend the crematorium. i keep thinking about how jay kept telling us how my grandfather kept mentioning that, "there was a man at the gate," the weekend before his heart failed. he didn't just see a man at the gate, he saw an a young chinese man, an indian man, and a caucasian man. when jay went to the door to see who was at the gate, she saw no one. posted by dawn # 6:47 PM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] breaking bread his mother gave me a silver and glass pendant, it'... jaz The Summer Train i heart new york beautiful justin running with donald tired feeling whimsical [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Saturday, June 28, 2008

the man at the gate

been reading a bunch of philip roths that the place where i work published. i also brought home ozick's heir to the glimmering world. i have an idea for a novel: about a country where spoken words have to be purchased. it opens with a birthday scene, and the line, "for my son's birthday we bought him a birthday song. it was expensive, but i did it on a whim, much to my husband's annoyance."

called home. my sister described my grandfather's body. the weirdest thing was that it didn't look like a person's body, she said, i went for the pre-funeral events, then flew to london and couldn't attend the crematorium. i keep thinking about how jay kept telling us how my grandfather kept mentioning that, "there was a man at the gate," the weekend before his heart failed. he didn't just see a man at the gate, he saw an a young chinese man, an indian man, and a caucasian man. when jay went to the door to see who was at the gate, she saw no one.

posted by dawn # 6:47 PM

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