“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Rubenstein playing Rachmaninoff's 2nd.
A glass of Scotch on the rocks.
I'm alone in the night wishing for you.
I've come to rely on the Waters of Lethe.
My simple substitute for intimacy.
A secret place where I can hide.
The next best thing to suicide.
"Give me the Waters of Lethe
that numb the heart, if they exist.
I will still not have the power
to forget you."
Ovid
The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering,
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
Emily Dickinson