This bed is a ship

Haven’t been writing, things have been hectic, I have been homeless. I move into an apartment this week, and then I go to New York for my high school best friend’s wedding (congratulations, Ally and Gavin), and then I get back on Monday and will still have a thousand things to do. But by the end of this week at least I will be moved into an apartment that is actually mine for the first time in months and months, plus it will have a view of Graceland Cemetery and will contain the companionship of one Griffin Sharps, Renaissance Man.

I am trying to write a play, but I’m very much caught up in the intense amount of research it may or may not require. Here are some books I am thinking about:

Lou Andreas-Salome - Freud Journal; Fenitschka; Hymn to Life a bunch of other stuff

Rainer Maria Rilke - The Duino Elegies; Sonnets to Orpheus; okay actually everything he wrote

Nietzsche - The Birth of Tragedy; the Case of Wagner; Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Benjamin - the Work of Art In the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility

Adorno - On Lyric Poetry and Society

Agamben - The End of the Poem

Kant - Critique of Judgment (on Aesthetic Judgement)

Freud - the Interpretation of Dreams; Introductory Lectures

W. H. Auden - In Memory of Sigmund Freud

a book or two about Wagner, a history book or two about Russian emigres in Western Europe, some feminist theory, some Lacan, a bunch of other crap and various biographies, oh my goodness

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