[16 Dec 2009|12:44am] y_julieta Wow! Just like that. I opened my 1932 first edition of Grange Woolley's translations of Stéphane Mallarmé's prose and verse and found a HIDDEN LETTER hand-written by Woolley himself: To Sir Edward Beatty, in appreciation of your kind interest in the past, Cordially, Grange Woolley !!! [1 UPRISE]

[16 Dec 2009|12:36am] y_julieta I am in the midst of finals week. I have piles of work on the floor and what am I doing? Boiling eggs and brooding over Mallarmé. QUELLE SOIE AUX BAUMES DE TEMPS. I am efficient in procrastination only when I am in my room. One may consider procrastination an idle game. I, on the contrary, see it through it's puerile veil. It is only when I am in my bedroom "alone" that I feel most accompanied. My inner longing to speak to myself, cry, stare into the mirror, shuffle around things- makes it difficult for me to focus on any task. My best work is always created when my being is anonymous among the public. It is in the presence of others that I grow old. [1 UPRISE]

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