April 2010
8 posts
On Rachmaninoff's Birthday →
It is your 86th birthday and I am sitting crying at the corner of Ninth Street and Avenue A one swallow doesn’t make a summer this coffee is terribly tepid
sometimes the 2nd symphony sounds like Purcell sometimes it sounds like Wozzeck’s last act
where is J.F. Donnelly and his Russian wolfhounds? where is his wife, Helen? where is the cigar-smell and the hootings in the studio while I...
