Christie Hodgen reads from ‘Elegies for the Brokenhearted’
Christie Hodgen reads a passage from Elegies for the Brokenhearted about an unforgettable skirt-chasing, car-racing uncle who comes in and out of his family’s lives.
Via KQED
Christie Hodgen reads a passage from Elegies for the Brokenhearted about an unforgettable skirt-chasing, car-racing uncle who comes in and out of his family’s lives.
Via KQED
The memories are like stutters. Sometimes I inhale for air, and exhale a shaking chain of memories. A choking hazard. I for the ghost. The ghost for me.
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If duende, the source of inspiration that Lorca sets out to champion in his essay at the expense of the Muse, is “in sum, the spirit of the earth”, a force linking body and soil through a struggle akin to death, then the Muse is a force that speaks to the head and inspires art that is, in the words’ most negative senses, cerebral and high-minded.
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Burton was born in Kentucky. He moved itinerantly before settling in Oakland. Temperatures rise, so does the suicide rate.
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I’ve been writing a more or less monthly memoir of my life in the sixties and seventies when I lived with Doris Lessing, and my continuing relationship with her until her death last year at 94. It is also an ongoing portrait of my incurable cancer.
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The cars came scudding in towards Dublin, running evenly like pellets in the groove of the Naas Road. At the crest of the hill at Inchicore sightseers...
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