PERSONAL MOTIVATIONS?
I wish to say I have none. My
life is too far gone for any of that
now, and the rest rolls along. There's
only so much one person can do, and
to fritter away the rest has no real
meaning. I do what I do as I do.
-
Once visiting the grave of Delmore
Schwartz - or trying to - I had
to locate the spot. It was a long and
arduous chase. Emerson, NJ, or
somewhere like that.
-
Schwartz was a crazy man of sorts,
burned out and washed away; his
format, by the end, was alcohol
and grief. Many of us get like that
late-on in this strife-like life.
(He had no wife).
-
I entered the vast Jewish cemetery,
not knowing what to expect. The
unclaimed body, found dead in
NYC, was claimed by his uncle
some time after death, and finally
laid to its rest. The fire was out and
the furies had ended.
-
Nothing seemed right, once I got there:
traditional rows of high Jewish stones,
and all those crazy names. They had
asked me, while searching his name
at the register-desk, what 'Tribe' he
had been. Levi? Cohen? Etc.
-
Probably the most weirdly striking
question I'd ever been asked.
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