Film fest time means curling queues on grid like streets.  I was thinking of going to see a doc on Norman Bateson — hence the essay link. Then I switched thought to heading out to Alan Gilsenan’s Liamy Clancy doc, but a walk in our lucky to be dry evening sent me home back to Eileen Myles novel Inferno instead. If I want New York, I got New York right here in this here bewk.

Co incidentally I appear to have painted my nails the same colour as the cover.

Last night I read Eileen Myles novel Inferno aloud to another set of ears.

I can’t recall reading, for a while, a book that read aloud with such ease.

It came off the page the way tea comes out of the pot.

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