Chimera Song Mosaic
Thursday, June 26, 2003
I LOVE Stephanie’s report from Vegas, especially the recognition of the self-constructed Britneys and the acute lack of virtual cafes (creepy how either no one else noticed that or perhaps no one else thought to mention it to anyone else but in fact everyone noticed that) and even the mis-recognition of a loved one at the dinner table—it’s all related. I think everyone should go to Vegas and report back. Vegas is perhaps the only place of authenticity an American can write from, perhaps the very authenticity that a skateboard (bought in Berkeley) is looking for when it calls out: “Oakland!” (with a Whitmanian emphasis).

I realize that almost everyone (David, Stephanie, someone else? Oh, and my blogless artist friend, Rachael) just recently came back from Las Vegas. But that’s okay—we were not aware of the project. Let’s reclaim Las Vegas for the thinking people and turn it into a writers’ colony, like San Miguel de Allende.

I will go to San Miguel de Allende in two weeks and report back and specify whether or not it is worthy of being colonized—I mean replicated! Bad, bad, bad!

I’m not crazy, but I would swear that it’s really Winnie as a kitten that is prancing over the link to Catherine at Kasey’s blog. I want to know more about this. I too loved Outerspace. It’s okay to talk about him. I’m going to dream tonight about grass curling up like charmed snakes from the lawn—the high grass, Lisa Simpson on the saxophone.

I enjoy Eileen’s yoga poem and the other masterfully aligned poems as well as her discussion of the media of poetry and meditation.

Ps. That line comes from The Opposite of Sex, with Lyle and Phoebe on Friends and Christina Ricci. I think about that all the time, too. Plus I have had a couple of Lyle Lovett restaurant sightings in my day.

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