Wednesday, July 08, 2009


Goddamn it!

The day was going so well (actually, it was akin to the opening of Sam Beckett's MURPHY: "The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.") until I read Renaissance's posting about Karl Malden. Now the eyes tear-- and, no, that's neither an exaggeration or dramatic flourish-- and the heart writhes and, alas, one re-visits recent yet old knowledge-- Karl Malden is dead! And all too young, even at ninety-seven. He was the most distinctive everyman I've witnessed.

And then next Wednesday will commemorate the sixth anniversary of the death of Chilean novelist, short story writer, and poet, Roberto Bolano. He died in Barecelona, Spain on July 15, 2003, the very day I arrived in that splendid, secretive city. Next week, July 15, 2009, I will fly to San Diego and, in utmost honor of Roberto, will resurrect him. Yes, I will. J/C