shookfoil
So long, farewell...
February 3, 2009
This is the end of the road here, I think, for shookfoil. Please visit my new site I'm Lefthanded. In a month or so this site will redirect there.
As you may have guessed from my last entry three months ago, I have long had trouble figuring out how to resurrect or use this site. I think I was, frankly, bored.
On the other hand, I am writing quite a bit now, and also digging up some of my old writings, both published and those hiding away in some drawer or deep in a harddrive.
Seriously, it is scary how much writing I have stuffed into 3 computers, one of which hasn't been backed up or turned on in a year. Four unfinished essays on Martin Luther King, three on the history of sustainability and Africa (yes, this is a topic I am very serious about), many poems, etc. I suspect other writers live in this same ellipses world.
There was a time, and still is, when a writer died and his letters were published. Writers have such gorgeous letters. But what will we do 20 years from now? The thousands and thousands of emails that have supplanted letter-writing and with them a more clipped on-the-fly way of communicating. (Twitter memoirs?)
Oh, but I am off track here.
Thank you for visiting shookfoil.
As you may have guessed from my last entry three months ago, I have long had trouble figuring out how to resurrect or use this site. I think I was, frankly, bored.
On the other hand, I am writing quite a bit now, and also digging up some of my old writings, both published and those hiding away in some drawer or deep in a harddrive.
Seriously, it is scary how much writing I have stuffed into 3 computers, one of which hasn't been backed up or turned on in a year. Four unfinished essays on Martin Luther King, three on the history of sustainability and Africa (yes, this is a topic I am very serious about), many poems, etc. I suspect other writers live in this same ellipses world.
There was a time, and still is, when a writer died and his letters were published. Writers have such gorgeous letters. But what will we do 20 years from now? The thousands and thousands of emails that have supplanted letter-writing and with them a more clipped on-the-fly way of communicating. (Twitter memoirs?)
Oh, but I am off track here.
Thank you for visiting shookfoil.
[by amy] in
the blog posts
Etch a Day (or so)
may26.2
O Taste and See
The world is
not with us enough
O taste and see
the subway Bible poster said,
meaning The Lord, meaning
if anything all that lives
to the imagination’s tongue,
grief, mercy, language,
tangerine, weather, to
breathe them, bite,
savor, chew, swallow, transform
into our flesh our
deaths, crossing the street, plum, quince,
living in the orchard and being
hungry, and plucking
the fruit.
--Denise Levertov
The world is
not with us enough
O taste and see
the subway Bible poster said,
meaning The Lord, meaning
if anything all that lives
to the imagination’s tongue,
grief, mercy, language,
tangerine, weather, to
breathe them, bite,
savor, chew, swallow, transform
into our flesh our
deaths, crossing the street, plum, quince,
living in the orchard and being
hungry, and plucking
the fruit.
--Denise Levertov
about
Amy McDonald Chapman pretends to write here from time to time. This is her virtual outpost, with occasional interjections from her writerly partner in crime Derek Chapman. Aesthetics, music, comedy, film, writing, kitsch, retro, fashion, ideas, architecture, bad art/good art.
