Monday, July 14, 2008

And speaking of Elberry ...

... take a look at from whence i blog.

Rather neater than, at the moment, from whence I blog.

3 comments:

  1. Anonymous6:20 PM

    Not only is it neater, it is also exactly cool, clean "elberryish," if you know what I mean. The flowers, the pinks and reds, the right-handedness, the portraits and the neat electrical panel close to everything essential. Very comforting and cubby-hol/d-out looking space (not at all like mine which is in the middle of everything since I live alone and can do what I damned well want and where and howl) . . .
    p.s. I remember your office, Frank, it was *amazing* in its piles of papers, simply jaw-dropping amazing you found *anything.*

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  2. The photo of me in my office was a tad misleading. I was actually sitting in Carlin Romano's corner of the book room and all those books piled up were ones he had just opened. I actually kept the book room in pretty good order and could unusually find anything I needed with a couple of minutes. I am in fact something of a neatnik.

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  3. Anonymous11:51 PM

    That reassures me, Frank; because? I always thought of you as supremely organised and capable (or, in your terms, a neatnik). Early in life, I learned I could NOT live with another person because, inevitably, they were collectors; and, I am of the opinion there are only two types of people on the planet, collectors and editors. I, an editor, see no point whatsoever in collecting *anything* and, my perception was confirmed by Harman Grisewood <*angel*> who once told me I was right not to attach myself to things of this world. Once, during my professorial daze, when I had George Bowering visit campus for readings and workshops, he took a picture of my "office" because there were no books nor *anything* in it. (I worked at home and learned quickly the book I really wanted was at the office.) Later, he sent it to me with the caption, ZEN OFFICE.

    My best obsessive-compulsive neatnik story is how I won my best uni friend, Susan, a bet with my other best uni friend, Judy, that the tops of my spice bottles would be dusted. Susan won; and, I have always made sure, if nothing else, they still are. I wonder if there's a connection between drinking and neatnikism? I know Gwen and I discovered one between drinking and our fear of flying. Something to do with control? She hid all books in her apartment; couldn't bear to look at them, not even her own.

    Maybe this completes the Bermuda Triangle (where no one escapes, not even for lunch).

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