Blast of Silence

My friend Ellemoney told me that it looks like I keep an e.e. cummings blog.  Sure makes me wish my wonky spacing was intentional and not merely a glitch of transferring text from Microsoft Word to Blog Box.  The genius is in the computer.

I’m sick.  My face feels like it’s holding back a reservoir of cement and my coughs are holding court with the Edgar Poe and Doc Holiday set.  Nevertheless, I have braved the elements and now find myself blundering through my workday.  I called in sick on Monday and spent most of my time hold up in the sub-tropical heat of my apartment, sweating like a revival minister.  Attempting to make the best of my idleness, I read on into the "Mynheer Peeperkorn" section of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, a book that I intended to read in 3 weeks but is taking me 7 years to complete.  I also gave myself a turntable workout in preparation for the Friend Power gig on Wednesday.   

I have bumped loudly into several doors today.  Updates to follow!

I close with a story.  The modern composer (or gymnopedist) Erik Satie had one romantic relationship in his entire life, and 1893 affair with Montparnasse artist Suzanne Valadon.  Valadon was the daughter of an unmarried laundress who became a circus acrobat at the age of 15 until she suffered a career-ending fall and turned to art.  Satie and Valadon shared a passionate relationship, but eventually she moved on, leaving Satie heartbroken.  Valadon went on to be the first woman admitted to the Societe Nationale des Beaux-Arts.  Satie  settled into a life of composition and solitary routine, eventually becoming one of the most influential figures in the European avant-garde.

When he died in 1925, no living soul save for himself had ever entered his lodgings at Arcueil.  What friends discovered there in addition to 84 identical handkerchiefs, 12 identical velvet suits, and dozens of umbrellas, was a portrait of Satie by Valadon, as well as their love letters. 

Suzanne Valadon died on April 7, 1938.

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