Love is All You Need

I want to plunge into narrative but they stole all the words. And George Orwell (to say nothing of Ezra Pound) said we should go in fear of abstractions and evasions and vagueness.

So I want to tell you a story. And I want the words to bleed red over the page, so you're there, you're present, it's real, it's definite and we can all exhale together at the end.

But then, you see, like the milky covering of a geriatric's eye, all I see is blurred and unfocused.

Hey Kid, get your ass outta here....no, let him stay, let him stay, let him stay...

I watched:

Across the Universe
The Sleeping Dictionary (!)
Must Love Dogs
Friends With Money
The Darjeeling Limited
40-Year-Old Virgin

in the last two days.

And I'm reading Faulkner's As I Lay Dying and Housden's 10 Poems To Change Your Life and George Orwell's Collected Essays at the same time. And another book by a cat vet, A Snowflake In Your Hand. Also the second book in Cleveland Amory's cat trilogy. And I am partway through other books as well.

If anyone suggests a lack of focus in my life at the moment, I would gladly agree. No focus. I am wandering through fields searching for patches of daffodils. (Or dandelions)

Because I always seem to be in vacant or in pensive mood.

Especially vacant.

When Rae Armantrout talked about being a connoisseur of vacancies was she talking about me?

Oh well:

All you need is love
All you need is love
Love is all you need.