I get a little geeky about how in-tune the world is with itself. Lately, I'm thinking about how things, the light bulb for instance, are invented by lots of people at the same time. And I'm surprised I'm still surprised that when I discover something fantastic, it turns out the whole world has been into it for super-long. Or, it shouldn't surprise me that, after setting down Voices from Chernobyl, I see that the new episode of Nature (PBS) is about the thriving of wildlife, wolves in particular, in Chernobyl. (How lovely the world looks without us.)
My sister-in-law recently showed me this Ralph Eugene Meatyard photo, and I've been eating up books about him & his work. And now I see him everywhere: he's all over facebook, blogs, etc., and there are exhibits of his work all around that I never knew about? It's funny how this works. It makes the world feel less linear, a bit more concentric. And I love when one book leads me to the most-appropriate-next-book-I-should-read. In this case, when Meatyard published The Family Album of Lucybelle Crater, he sent the cover of Gertrude Stein's The Making of Americans to the publisher to explain the intentions of the album (you can find this and tons of other great info in this copy of the album). So, Stein is where I'm heading next in this marginally-large exploration.
*The titular quote for this post was culled from The Art of Recklessness, by Dean Young. I bought it just before moving and rediscovered it while putting my books in order. I'm finally reading it. I'm only on page 20 of what seems, so far, to be a defense of poetry. It feels like going to church. I needed to go to church.
P.S. Poetry and I are holding hands in public again. We can barely keep our hands off of each other. People shout at us to get a room...