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What Does Blood Couldn't Make Us Any Closer Mean

BM: In college I read a lot of—I was taking Bill Berkson's course at the New School, and he said to me one day, "You know, Bernadette, you sound a little too much like Gertrude Stein. What does blood couldn't make us any closer mean love. " It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. BM: I thought of it for a while, but Ed Bowes had a video camera when they were really the unwieldy huge things that you had to carry around. And there is one of you, trying just the opposite.

Blood Couldn T Make Us Any Closer Meaning

AF: When was the last time you went back to your home? We love what we love. It was so much easier to do things like this without being pretty. David would buy me two of them, one to read and one to write in. Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding.

What Does Blood Couldn't Make Us Any Closer Mean Nothing

"The thing about this city, " Andray said. Later on, they would kind of rattle around in there—his false teeth—it was obvious they were there. You tell them things. He went to the arcanists at the University, thinking if anyone would know about screws and their workings, they would. The importance of place again comes to light in these chapters. "I'd heard you were dead. This is a poet who lives to think. She meant like how you could actually be in the world and not be a fucked-up part of it. What does blood couldn't make us any closer mean nothing. AF: Did you grow closer with your sister as a result? "But I knew I was there for a reason. She's been such a clear and enduring influence on your own work.

What Does Blood Couldn't Make Us Any Closer Mean Anything

My grandfather used to always tell us incredible stories about when he lived on a farm in Brooklyn; he couldn't stand to kill the chickens, so he would never eat chickens. So there was that kind of thing going on, too. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. AF: What did they cook? You can do it forever. It's Official, Microplastics Were Found Circulating in Human Blood For The First Time. Use warm or cold water and soap and rub your hands together for at least 20 seconds, which is about how long it takes to sing "Happy Birthday" twice. Maybe it will happen. Whether in her book-length hybrids of prose and poetry, her raunchy, gallant, sonnets or tender epistolary poems, Mayer's signature is to recreate consciousness on the page, honoring always the simultaneity and enormity of daily life. Especially at night when you're waiting for a train and there's someone there. If we didn't know writers, we could dig them up from the past that nobody knew about anymore, like Kleist. So why not go there? "There are no coincidences", Silette wrote.

What Does Blood Couldn't Make Us Any Closer Mean Love

BM: I guess my father, sort of, because he had some joie de vivre. Question everything. That is rare and pure and perfect. So what are they going to do in college? Colored folks won't have 'em because they're half white; white folks won't have 'em 'cause they're colored, so they're just in-betweens, don't belong anywhere. That's the kind of character he was. He had been, believe it or not, Tuesday Weld's and Anthony Perkins' psychoanalyst, and he married Elaine May. Then the high king took the golden screwdriver and put it in the boy's belly button. It sat on her shelves for years. Lives of the Poets: Bernadette Mayer by Adam…. I could feel my small audience leaning toward me. Frank O'Hara and John Ashbery would go out to dinner and joke hilariously about New York City.

She shared the story of when she finally met Irving, years later, this week in North Dakota. Some infections that bacteria cause include ear infections, sore throats (tonsillitis or strep throat), cavities, and pneumonia (say: new-MO-nyuh). So they went to various cheaper parts of Brooklyn. Like Wittgenstein or Lacan, or even things they didn't ask me to talk about. What does blood couldn't make us any closer mean anything. For its modernism, Mayer's work recalls Stein and its slow-lightning apprehension of grammar as the vehicle for human existence; but it also recalls Hawthorne and Melville, stubborn American spirits who turned the seemingly "provincial" scope of their scrupulous observations into that stranger, larger fabric: what Montaigne and Emerson meant by "Experience. I'm thinking of your poem Eve of Easter, when you end up transgendering the great dead male white authors and before the poem's over, they end up children at your feet.

"I was glad I wasn't pretty anymore. AF: So you took this year off to read the greats and the classics.

Tue, 18 Jun 2024 03:14:26 +0000