Letters to Someone Else # 3

Old Joy,

I hope you don't mind if I wander a bit. It's a form that suits me.

1. Finding a form that suits one's lifestyle seems, to me, absolutely essential if I hope to make art these days. I learned this from people like W.C. Williams and Wallace Stevens and Ted Kooser, all poets who held down pretty serious jobs (doctor, insurance salesman, insurance salesman). Williams used to talk about ending a shift around 10:00 and then pulling a typewriter out of his desk and writing down poems that had been on and off his mind all day long. It's no wonder he wrote such clipped, short, odd poems--and, since he came along at the right time and happened to influence some other, younger poets, he also changed the face of poetry. I contend that his crazy schedule led to his style of writing (quick, hurried, unconsidered, rough-hewn). Contentions like this have always made it possible for me to be productive, no matter how busy I seem to be. I find a form that suits me, even if that means just jotting down a line as soon as I wake up in the morning.

2. I offer # 1 as a piece of advice, too. Having too much time can be destructive to art, especially if you push too hard against it. But if you release yourself into the drift of your days, maybe you'll do some good work yet. Just remember... free thinking (and freeing one's thinking) can be just as artful as anything written or spoken or painted or sung. Also, you might not write about your current experience until you are older... which is perfectly fine, too.

3. For more on # 2, study the life of Marcel Duchamp. His art was cool, but his writing/thinking were much more important. Also, all that was said about him... Really, you can't go wrong.

4. Currently listening exclusively to a song called "Wolves" by a band/man named Phosphorescent. In a day or two, it will be something different, but this song's got its hooks in me.

5. Yes still writing and making films. Even when I don't mean to, these things happen. What I want out of these activities is simple: to be always an amateur. The root of that word is wrapped up with the notion of love, loving, being a lover of a certain activity. And, embracing that term allows me to introduce mistakes, misshapes, laughter, and awkward moments into my work. Masters are not allowed to reveal blemishes; maintaining the status of an amateur allows one to make art that feels like life.

6. Funny, I just typed over what I first wrote, "the status of an amateur allows one to make life that feels like art."

7. My best friend wrote a great poem called "Dolce Far Niete" and I wrote a poem that incorporated that poem... and now you're picking up the thread.

8. Hanging out with my son a few weekends ago... he has a vocabulary of about 28 words at the moment. We were at my parents house because we have a dire need to escape Manhattan from time to time. Anyway, I was in bed with my son and the windows were open and the birds were singing. He's not used to hearing birds. He usually hears cars and sirens. He looked at me and pointed to the sound and said, "Bird." That was the best poem I've heard in the past few years.

9. If you're going to Y.U. next year, look up a former student of mine. His name is Eliot Bitner. He'll be a sophomore. He's a pretty special person. Just show up at his door and demand that he make you a cup of tea. When he pours the tea for you, sit down and say, "I need Paul Auster's fax number, and someone told me you could get it for me."

10. Solitude is hard; I wish you luck. I work it into my life two or three times a year, and it's always the best and worst time. Sometimes the eyes fill up with tears and you have to ask yourself, am I the happiest or the saddest I've ever been? When you don't know the answer, you are perfectly alone.

11. I think.

Take care,

S.