Sunday, February 6, 2011

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter

The wind has been howling these three days. Anna said it reminds her of change. To me it seems like madness.

The play finished last night and it has been a spectacular run. We sold all but three tickets in the week and were supported by professors, lecturers, college members, friends, strangers. I think, astoundingly, we made a profit.

I’ve been reading T.S. Eliot and I’ve concluded that April is not the cruelest month, February is. Nothing can be more dead than it is now. Where are the roots that clutch/What branches grow/ Out of this stony rubbish?...

And my favorite part:

There is shadow under this red rock
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock)
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

2 comments:

Mr Cogito said...

Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen

Annie said...

You see, I told you you would be resounding success. Congratulations.

The trees from my window are barely moving this morning and I can hardly believe that the wind has gone. It has such an effect on us. I used to say to student teachers, "You'll have problems with the children today; it's windy" and they would look at me as if I was mad - until they got into the classroom.