I have not read the latest quasi-biography of Vallejo (that I know of offhand) and I should. It is short and by Silva-Santisteban, and it is from 2010, and it accompanied an exposition. I have said this before but someone should write a serious biography of this poet, because things just do not add up coherently yet.
Look at this video, a walking tour of his early life in Paris.
I am oddly on the track of this person and I would like to sit down and just keep digging until I hit the vein. This was what I was going to do originally and, pace everything else I have said on the matter it is what I would have done without Reeducation. I would be famous now, because I am one of the designated hitters for this, I can tell.
That could mean Vallejo has to go into the present book, which still needs a form. Indeed I do urgently need a framework for this project.
I woke up this morning with the image of my father, happy, walking into the sunny library at the retirement home he will not move into, admiring the polished wood and excited to see the books, relieved to be free of housework. I thought about being happy to wake up and excited to see the books. I thought how rare this is in Maringouin, how it all has to do with what you actually have to look forward to or not; my decision not to try too hard to truly enjoy Maringouin because it was a setup for disappointment. I thought about how this month I was going to try again and was prevented, but I would still like to try again.
Axé.
The dream appears to have been telepathic and not a premonition of death, as I wondered. He has had a better day.