20 November 2008. Heavy gray morning cloud shelf--darker now towards run of roof--sudden jets of white cleaners' smoke, dancing against thy sky.
"Life, friends, is boring..." John Berryman, following the events of the day. Or the Russians, perhaps. "Skuchno na etom stvetye, gospoda," a phrase remembered from harder times--Gogol', that is-- "It's a dreary world, gentlemen." My stock-holders--note the possessive--wagging the dog of the tail. Entering into trouble--theirs as well our own.
The meaning of all feelings--on the table, as it were. As they should be. A place setting, silver, polished crystal, faceted glass. The accoutrements of another life. Professor Sinigaglia--Marcello Mastroianni to us--sent to organize the factory workers of Torino in a late 19th century winter. I Compagni...
Hannibal. Aeneas. Baudelaire...
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