No Guts, No Glamour. Saturday, June 27, 2015. Some people are calmer than others. I am not one of them. Maybe we all are? Maybe we all drink and smoke and rob banks and post bitchy comments online because we want to escape the gnawing dread that lies directly under the surface? It is time to face my demons, at least tent.

A Novel of the Life of Robert Johnson. Part researched reconstruction, part vivid imagination, this lyrical novel brings Johnson alive through the voices of his six wives, revealing the husband and son inside the legend, illuminating the vacuum Johnson left in the worlds of those who loved him and those he would never meet. And directly from Engine Books.

Chapters 1 and 3 of my dissertation rough draft were accepted by my Chair and thus completed. Now to neaten up the tables and finish writing chapter 2. Super apologies for not posting, for obvious reasons. Things are falling into place. And parting gift bags combined.

Fotografia di Alessio Righi, Auschwitz, 2012. Ho sempre osservato il tatuaggio di sfuggita, senza avere il coraggio di chiedergli di mostrarmelo. Lui avrebbe accosentito, ma cosa sarebbe successo poi? Piero avrebbe alzato la manica della camicia e me lo avrebbe mostrato. E io come sarei riuscita a sostenere il suo sguardo mentre posavo gli occhi sulle cifre bluastre? In quale espressione si sarebbe offerto il mio volto? No, era troppo.