It is odd. I was in the library at the Country Club College and found a faded note on a scrap of paper in the index of an old book of literary criticism that probably had not been opened for years. The book smelled of disuse, the pages yellowed and dry, the spine worn, the threads beginning to loosen.
"Tomorow [sic] night the full moon. . . and you will be with me. We will sit by the lake and watch the moon rise and drink that bottle of wine Mary gave to you. And this will be the night. You promised. Don't think of changing your mind. Not on a full moon."
What was supposed to happen, I wonder? And why was the note left in the book and not delivered? Was this a girl writing to a boy or vice versa? I think about it tonight, for tomorrow night is a full moon. The Beaver Moon, of all things. I will write a note tonight and leave it in a book for someone to find. I will begin writing a series of them and place them in books all over imagining the curiosity of the people who will read them. Perhaps we all should do it. What fun we might provide.
The photo is of the young model in her mother's wedding dress. Reminds me of a Whistler.
Baudelaire's Jean ... only skinnier.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.artsunlight.com/NN/N-M0009/N-M0009-147-baudelaire-s-mistress-reclining-study-of-jeanne-duval.jpg
I like the notes idea very much. Ever hear of the Guerilla Poetry Project?
ReplyDeletehttp://www.guerillapoetics.org/
Harmony in Pink and Grey: Portrait of Lady Meux?
ReplyDeleteL, I've not heard of the project. But I went there, and it ain't found notes. Leave notes, L. It will be good for you. Get the old juices flowing.
ReplyDeleteQ, Thanks for the book. I read a bit last night. Held my interest. Fox, the ghost writer shaped Richards prose.