I Remember Coming Upon Philip

Each Thing I Do, I Rush Through So I Can Do Something Else. In Such A Way Do The Days Pass - -a Blend Of Stock Car Racing And The Never Ending Building Of A Gothic Cathedral. Through The Windows Of My Speeding Car I See All That I Love Falling Away: Books Unread, Jokes Untold, Landscapes Unvisited.

I Like It To Be Quiet, And It Usually Occurs In The Morning. There Are Three Or Four Places In My House Where I Can Write And I Like To Keep Moving Around. The Moment I Find Myself Falling Into A Necessary Routine, I Change It. I'd Rather Not Accumulate Superstitions.

They Are Asleep. This Is The Condition They Prefer. They Are Afraid Of The World And Sleep Is A Way Of Dealing With Their Fear. Someday They Will Wake. Perhaps Something Frightful Will Happen. Indeed, There Is No Better Invitation To The Frightful Than Ignorance - That Is, Sleep. (29)

Sometimes Someone Will Tell Me About An Author I've Never Heard Of Before And That Will Send Me To That Person. That's How I Discovered Thomas Bernhard, An Austrian Novelist Whose Novels Tend To Be One Long Rant.

For The Past Thirty Years Or So, Much American Poetry Has Been Marked By An Earnestness That Rejects The Comic. This Has Nothing To Do With Seriousness. The Comic Can Be Very Serious. The Trouble With The Earnest Is That It Seeks To Be Commended. It Seeks To Be Praised For Its Intention More Than For What It Is Saying.