NEW SCENE FOR THE ARTSCENE
THURSDAY January 7, 2010!--A new year! Ive been sick, but I'm still writing: I intend to go on writing. . .
Snow. . . Ohio-Michigan-Indiana-snow. The white insinuates itself into everything. . . this cold coffee, the torn paper in the wastebasket. . . my white anklets. . . I won't freeze to death if I keep my hand moving on the keyboard. I can't actually see my breath but I pretend I do. . . I wonder if there is snow in Silver Spring Md., and if my sister Chris is writing about snow. I miss her too much. (Don't go there, Liz, you'll feel worse. . .)
The snow seeped into the TV last night while I stayed up late, watching RASPUTIN as played by LIONEL BARRYMORE. -- JOHN BARRYMORE, whom my mother recalled from her youth, played Prince Youssepof -- Well, he (Barrymore) certainly played the Russian guy who killed Rasputin -- and LIONEL BARRYMORE -- with a princely flourish, played "The Holy Devil," GREGORY RASPUTIN himself.
Black and white images oozed into the Ohio snow fields while I slept. . . My words caught on the naked berry bushes. . . My father owned too many books about the Russian Revolution, and I read them when I was far too young. -- I am a marked woman.
Snow. . . Ohio-Michigan-Indiana-snow. The white insinuates itself into everything. . . this cold coffee, the torn paper in the wastebasket. . . my white anklets. . . I won't freeze to death if I keep my hand moving on the keyboard. I can't actually see my breath but I pretend I do. . . I wonder if there is snow in Silver Spring Md., and if my sister Chris is writing about snow. I miss her too much. (Don't go there, Liz, you'll feel worse. . .)
The snow seeped into the TV last night while I stayed up late, watching RASPUTIN as played by LIONEL BARRYMORE. -- JOHN BARRYMORE, whom my mother recalled from her youth, played Prince Youssepof -- Well, he (Barrymore) certainly played the Russian guy who killed Rasputin -- and LIONEL BARRYMORE -- with a princely flourish, played "The Holy Devil," GREGORY RASPUTIN himself.
Black and white images oozed into the Ohio snow fields while I slept. . . My words caught on the naked berry bushes. . . My father owned too many books about the Russian Revolution, and I read them when I was far too young. -- I am a marked woman.
posted by Liz James at 2:03 PM
