With all due apologies for my bloglessness, I can blame it on jet lag. Well, for a while I could, now I'll have to blame it on something else. I'm glad Jill Essbaum reported on West Chester and that David Yezzi mentioned how weird it's felt to come to this space since Craig Arnold has left us. I've been reading both of Craig's books these weeks: what a gift, and what a terrible, strange feeling it leaves.
Speaking of strange feelings, all day, helicopters have been flying overhead. G8 protests. It's going to be interesting to see what happens up in L'Aquila, and I wonder if our world leaders will actually get to experience any aftershocks, because, as you probably know, they are still happening. Did you see this in the NY Times?
And in case you were wondering, yes, Michael Jackson's memorial service was broadcast here.
These guys are Mimmo Locasciulli at the piano, Giancarlo De Cataldo, and Damiano. Mimmo sang a few Leonard Cohen-inspired songs, and Giancarlo and Damiano read from their translations of Cohen's poems, most recent being Confrontiamo allora i nostri miti. It was a nice evening, and obviously the backdrop wasn't too bad, though I always think about Daisy Miller walking along with that dandy gigolo when I look up at the Pincio.
Another highlight since I've been back was a concert in the astoundingly beautiful Oratorio del Gonfalone [and of course a) I forgot my camera and b) I would have felt stupid taking pictures anyway]. But we got to listen to some very fine musicians (including amazing violinist Robert McDuffie) playing Tschaikovsky's String Sextet in D major and some compositions by Andrea Morricone, who was sitting right behind us. That "Love Theme from 'Nuovo Cinema Paradiso,'" it gets me every time.
Well, I'm going to end with another apology, this time for my relative scatteredness. Tomorrow evening we're going to a reading by the visiting faculty from the University of Washington (yes, they have a summer program in Rome!) and I will give a less scattered report of that, and perhaps talk less scatteredly about poems, translation, and the merits of Bucatini all'Amatriciana mantecati in forma di pecorino.
