née @memoiressecrets - https://nitter.gq/t.co/E19oysPVjL
Joined December 2021
- Tweets2.1K
- Following1.3K
- Followers216
- Likes11.2K
Pinned Tweet
This has been fun, but I am now humbly requesting that everyone keep their powder dry, re: Eric Rohmer, until my translation of his early novel comes out in July
mcnallyeditions.com/books/p/…
Aaron retweeted
«Il cinema è dunque un infinito piano-sequenza, simile alla vita (prima che ce ne venga data la spiegazione, o prima che avvenga la morte, che ce ne dà il senso globale).»
Pier Paolo Pasolini, Empirismo eretico, 1972.
Aaron retweeted
It’s funny, by which I mean sickening, to see tenured faculty repeat the discourse of the deanery: “teaching is so fun we’d do it for free.”
Aaron retweeted
My late Fine Art tutor’s wife sent me a couple of his powerful A3 charcoal sketches of trees from a drawing trip with students to a country park. I didn’t go myself. These drawings are over 40 years old, and I’m beginning to see apparitions in them now.
Halloween’s dwindling in the rearview mirror, but here in the city of Somerville we’re still finding bodies
1
4
120
Remembering the time I opened an early edition of The Spoils of Poynton and found a note from Henry James to his publisher on a set of folded page proofs
2
11
339
Aaron retweeted
Absolutely fantastic. Just a joy to watch. Cox going all out - Cowboys quoting Emily Dickinson, singing corpses, a wild dream sequence, animation from Tippett Studios. Phenomenal adaptation of Gogol that looks the future square in the eye. It’s also very funny. Loved it
Aaron retweeted
btw rohmer’s grave is so desolate because he invented the situationship and is being punished for it. you have to squint to even make out his name on the gravestone.
Aaron retweeted
I always think of this great Vallejo poem with his other as it were posthumous short poem “Paris, October 1936”: allpoetry.com/Paris,-October…
“I will die in Paris, on a rainy day.” A poem by César Vallejo, translated by Robert Bly.
ALT Black Stone Lying On A White Stone I will die in Paris, on a rainy day, on some day I can already remember. I will die in Paris—and I don't step aside— perhaps on a Thursday, as today is Thursday, in autumn. It will be a Thursday, because today, Thursday, setting down these lines, I have put my upper arm bones on wrong, and never so much as today have I found myself with all the road ahead of me, alone. César Vallejo is dead. Everyone beat him although he never does anything to them; they beat him hard with a stick and hard also with a rope. These are the witnesses: the Thursdays, and the bones of my arms, the solitude, and the rain, and the roads . . .
Aaron retweeted
In sorta the way that certain writers had to write noted poetry or fiction so that we'd get the journals or letters that are really their best stuff, certain actors had to be in well-known movies so that we'd get what is really their most important contribution: imagery for memes
