Total reading success in the International Poetry Festival. I had no time or post a notice here. From 7 to 10 AM I was reviewing a translation of a manual of tactics of war, very useful thing to impress then some poets table with my general knowledge of strategy. Within certain limits: the type of imaginary war images that appeal to people who have never been in a real one. My book Ithaca (2004) found its readers. That's the good news. The bad news is that you are exhausted. The other good news is that as reeditaré. Upon request, by hand, one by one. A mail it, to pay via transfer. I chose Ithaca fragments thinking of "Haikus of war" that Martin Raninqueo read on Thursday. He just read at that time elsewhere and not heard, and I could not give the book. I have sent by email. In Soliloquies , which just came out, did not have enough copies. I could only get three for sale. And they sold. People rushed to buy it. Could have sold twenty or thirty in minutes, to have had. I could not believe it. Those are the things you read that happen to other people. A Beck, a reduced rate. It happened to me.
Raninqueo I could tell the guilt I felt in 1982. Guilt for having food, shelter and my family nearby. While they were there . I could tell. Pathetic
D'Anna boasting to him of his fear of 1976-epic tone, JB hand.
"A problem here, the generations," he murmured.
From 11 to 16 hours transcribe and translate finished my interview Cooke Allison Hedge Rosario/12 today. We recorded the interview yesterday at the Club de Pescadores. "I was talking about," Allison said finally, pointing to a sparrow behind me. He also discovered the nest.
And today, in the tape is not a sparrow chirping incessantly.
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