A novel is a continual surprise.
Chapters as literary device rather than the natural division of novelistic time.
Listening to the Baltimore aunts telling the same stories over and over but each time a little differently.
Ricotta with a pear. This is a story of that in part. Don’t forget the pecorino. In part.
A novel of thank you in chapters and saints. Children and fish.
Thank you for desire. Reverence and Irreverence. Repeating.
Saints I have definitely seen so far.
Saint Catherine
Saint Francis
Saint Clare definitely
I am calling from Italy to say that there is smoke coming out of my computer and she says is there still a picture when you use the battery and I say yes and she says don’t worry it will all be OK wait until I get there. And I tell her I will meet her in the fortezza and I do, and it is.
The central theme of the novel is that they were glad to see each other.
A very valentine.
An arrangement of their being there and never having been more glad than before…
I will wait for you in the fortezza for as long as it takes.
Chapter written in the very hot sun while waiting.
Seeing Saint Catherine’s Head. (Siena)
Loving repeating is one way of being. This is now a description of such being. Loving repeating is always in children. Loving repeating is in a way earth feeling. Some children have loving repeating for little things and storytelling, some have it as a more bottom being. Slowly this comes out in them in all their children being, in their eating, playing, crying and laughing. Loving repeating is then in a way earth feeling. This is very strong in many, in children and in old age being. This is very strong in many in all ways of humorous being, this is very strong in some from their beginning to their ending.
Chapter Emily Rose and Katie Grosvenor
Again and again and again
A very valentine
How are the cats?
Thank you
Go red go red, laugh white.
Suppose a collapse in rubbed purr, in rubbed purr get.
Little sales ladies little sales ladies
Little saddles of mutton.
Little sales of leather and such
beautiful beautiful, beautiful beautiful.
Most tender buttons.
Trembling was all living, living was all loving, someone was then the other one.
Please may I have a piece of your Pecorino di Pienza thank you very much.
We have been planning a little trip to Italy in June.
Any time is the time to make a poem. The snow and sun below.
A short novel in cats
She loved her little black and white.
She loved her orange very much.
She loved her gray.
She loved her brown stripes.
But she loved her gray the most. Fauve.
It is because of this element of civilization that Paris has always been the home of all foreign artists, they are friendly the French, they surround you with a civilized atmosphere and they leave you inside of you completely to yourself.
An inner language
Merci beaucoup.
How many more than two are there. (I miss gossiping with you)
And I was once or twice in Vence and loving you very much. Chapter J and Z.
And on the rue de Fleurus.
The Germans were getting nearer and nearer Paris and the last day Gertrude Stein could not leave her room, she sat and mourned. She loved Paris, she thought neither of manuscripts nor of pictures, she thought only of Paris and she was desolate. I came up to her room, I called out, it is all right Paris is saved, the Germans are in retreat. She turned away and said, don’t tell me these things. But it’s true, I said, it is true. And then we wept together.
And then we wept.
How muffled the world suddenly — as if walking through snow
to the last village of Zenka, perched on a hill
where forever resides, and hasn’t it been nice?
Having gone to London in the month of May and roses to say good-bye.
Already I miss you very much.
Chapter 5
And how to thank you.
It was very nearly carefully in plenty of time.
Could if a light gray and heart rending be softer could it and light gray be paler could it and light gray be paler. Not the least resemblance between that and that.
Once more. Thank you very much. Once more. Once. Twice.
Once more. I shall miss you. The things we used to do and say.
And how we will not get to the Lago Giacomo Puccini this time.
The patience of a saint.
Not this time.
It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing. If a bird or birds fly into the room is it good luck or bad luck we will say it is good luck.
A novel of thank you and a travel diary. With and without birds. Looking for an Agritourismo late at night. How many saints have we seen so far?
Saint Francis definitely all over the place, and Saint Clare and
Saint Catherine from before.
And how many parts of saints?
Pray to the rib of the saint for strength. The leg of the saint.
It was not a mistake.
Allowed to watch composition. Witness creation. Thank you thank you.
Written in Venice on “honeymoon”: A sonatina. Pussy said that I should wake her in an hour and a half if it didn’t rain. It is still raining what should I do.
Secrets, gossips, hopes, disappointments, household life, erotic life, artistic doubts, apologies, jokes, intimacies.
And if not the real story, then what the story was for me.
Chapter Ava.
Don’t leave anything out.
To accomplish wishes one needs one’s lover.
— for Helen P
Can we stay in Pienza one more day?
Don’t leave anything out.
This must not be put in a book.
Why not.
Because it mustn’t.
Yes sir.
Chapter
I know at least four or five Amys now.
To begin to allow. To allow it.
She was not to come again. She came and she asked and she was answered and she was not to come again not to come she was asked and she was answered and she was answered and she was asked and she was not to come again well she was not to come again. This is the first time she came she was not to come again. To reason with Bertha and Josephine and Sarah and Susan and Adela and never Anns. What is the difference between chocolate and brown and sugar and blue and cream and yellow and eggs and white. What is the difference between addition and edges and adding and baskets and needing and pleasure. It was not a mistake.
When she was and help me when she was what was she to me.
…generosity depends upon what is and what is not held out and held up and held in that way.
Allow flowers.
A basket — for Gertrude Stein. And for Alice add flowers. And some eggs.
Explain looking. Explain looking again. Alice
explain looking again.
The sound of thinking and the sound of thought. A piece of thinking. Don’t forget to add flowers. First poppies and broom and then after awhile sunflowers come out. The yellow hovering.
Every color of saint.
Blue saints green saints yellow saints black saints and red angels.
A back and forth. A basket.
We need transference of letters and parcels and doubts and dates and easier.
A novel is useful in more ways than one.