Gary Indiana: A Stone for Unica Zürn
Unica Zürn has long been a semi-mythical figure. Little known and in many ways unknowable, she is inevitably associated with the Surrealist artist Hans Bellmer, whom she met at a Berlin show of his work in 1953. Obsessed throughout his career with realistic female dolls whose body parts could be endlessly manipulated, penetrated, removed, multiplied, decorated and otherwise reconfigured to posit flesh and bone as the material of a recombinative fetishism, Bellmer had worked and lived with other women before Zürn. (He’d also been married, and had fathered twin daughters.) But upon meeting Zürn he declared, ominously enough, “Here is the doll.”
From that moment on, their fates were intertwined—or, one could say, Unica Zürn’s fate was sealed. She was 37, Bellmer 51, when she moved to Paris to share Bellmer’s two rooms in the Hotel de l’Espérance, 88 rue Mouffetard. There the pair embarked on their own special variation on the Surrealist amour fou. They have been described as companions in misery who inspired each other. No doubt this is true. Zürn’s life before meeting Bellmer was troubled, to say the least. Born in 1916, she grew up in Grünewald, the daughter of an adored but mostly absent father, a cavalry officer posted to Africa, and his third wife, whom she detested. During the Nazi period, Zürn worked as a dramaturge at UFA, the German film company, married a much older man in 1942, bore two children and lost custody of them in a divorce seven years later; she then made a meager living writing short stories for newspapers and radio plays.
She also painted and made drawings in the late ’40s and early ’50s, independently lighting upon the Surrealist technique of decalcomania. Malcolm Green, in his introduction to the English version of Zürn’s novel The Man of Jasmine (Gallimard, Paris, 1971; English translation Atlas Press, London, 1977), describes this period of Zürn’s life as “happy.” She reestablished contact with former UFA colleagues, had what may have been an amiable social life, and enjoyed the work she did as a writer and artist.
One has to wonder, though only to wonder, how much of Zürn’s life transpired above the threshold of the dissociative states and debilitating depressions that later entrapped her. The writings for which she is best known reflect an excruciating mental state, relieved solely by fantasies and hallucinations; reality, in her description, is unbearably harsh and punitive, a realm of grotesquerie in which, she writes in Dark Spring (Merlin, Hamburg, 1969; English translation Exact Change, Cambridge, Mass.,2000), she is “mocked, derided and humiliated.” And while the narrator of that autobiographical novel avers that “pain and suffering bring her pleasure,” Zürn’s inner torment led many times to long spells in mental hospitals, and finally to suicide by throwing herself from Bellmer’s sixth-floor window in 1970, when she was 54.
(cont.)
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Hans Bellmer's photographs of Unica Zürn
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Dark Spring is an autobiographical coming-of-age novel that reads more like an exorcism than a memoir. In it author Unica Zürn traces the roots to her obsessions: the exotic father she idealized, the "impure" mother she detested, the masochistic fantasies and onanistic rituals which she said described "the erotic life of a little girl based on my own childhood."Dark Spring is the story of a young girl's simultaneous introduction to sexuality and mental illness, revealing a different aspect of the "mad love" so romanticized by the (predominantly male) Surrealists. Zurn committed suicide in 1970 — an act foretold in this, her last completed work.
Excerpt:
Each time, she finds herself tormented by her terrible fear of the rattling skeleton of a huge gorilla, which she believes inhabits the house at night. The sole purpose of his existence is to strangle her to death. In passing, she looks, as she does every night, at the large Rubens painting depicting "The Rape of the Sabine Women." These two naked, rotund women remind her of her mother and fill her with loathing. But she adores the two dark, handsome robbers, who lift the women onto their rearing horses. She implores them to protect her from the gorilla. She idolizes a whole series of fictional heroes who return her gaze from the old, dark paintings that hang throughout the house. One of them reminds her of Douglas Fairbanks, whom she adored as a pirate and as the "Thief of Baghdad" in the movie theater at school. She is sorry she must be a girl. She wants to be a man, in his prime, with a black beard and flaming black eyes. But she is only a little girl whose body is bathed in sweat from fear of discovering the terrible gorilla in her room, under her bed. She is tortured by fears of the invisible.
Who knows whether or not the skeleton will crawl up the twines of ivy that grow on the wall below her window, and then slip into her room. His mass of hard and pointed bones will simply crush her inside her bed. Her fear turns into a catastrophe when she accidentally bumps into the sabers, which fall off the wall with a clatter in the dark. She runs to her room as fast as she can and slams the door shut behind her. She turns the key and bolts the door. One again, she has come out of this alive. Who knows what will happen tomorrow night?
Unica Zürn, a filmic portrait
5 anagrammatic poems
AND IF THEY HAVE NOT DIED
I am yours, otherwise it escapes and
wipes us into death. Sing, burn
Sun, don’t die, sing, turn and
born, to turn and into Nothing is
never. The gone creates sense - or
not died have they and when
and when dead - they are not.
for H.B.Berlin 1956
DANS L’ATTELAGE D’UN AUTRE AGE
(Line from a poem by Henri Michaux)
Eyes, days, door, the old country.
Eagle eyes, a thousand days old.
Ermenonville 1957
WILL I MEET YOU SOMETIME?
After three ways in the rain image
when waking your counterimage: he,
the magician. Angels weave you in
the dragonbody. Rings in the way,
long in the rain I become yours.
Ermenonville 1959
HEXENTEXTE
I spread the white nothing
alas, white is nothing. Remorse
of white smoke stabs silk
of lenity. Sweetness is like
the white. Shout: Don’t do it!
She is me! Become sweet night!
WE LOVE DEATH
Red Thread's body,
Turn bread in sorrow,
Not in question, ax is
Life. We, your death,
you weave your Lot
in soil. Game messenger
we love death
Berlin 1953/4
18 drawings
'Zurn had been a writer before she met the Surrealist photographer Hans Bellmer in Berlin in 1953 and moved with him, that same year, to Paris, where she became part of a circle that included Man Ray, Andre Breton, Max Ernst, and others, and was introduced to "automatic drawing." This technique was originally designed to bypass the "rational" through a passive, "nondirected" engagement of the unconscious. Successive Surrealists made the method their own developing more active approaches corresponding with a variety of quasi-ideological strategies. Zurn, for instance, adapted a technique by which natural imperfections of paper are joined together to initiate the compositional field, instead introducing her own originary marks in the form of small sketched eyes, the basic motif of many of her later works.
'Zurn was attracted to constraints, whether in the procedural rules of the anagram poems or in the conceptual decision undergirding the drawings never to allow figuration to arrive at coherent representation. Although her compositional strategies changed considerably over the years, Zurn's hand remained remarkably consistent. She drew phantasmagoric creatures, chimerical beasts with transparent organs and multiple appendages, plantlike abstractions, oneiric forms, amoebic shapes whose fractal membranes are filled in with multiple recurring motifs: spirals, scales, eyes, dots, beaks, claws, conical tails, leaflike indents. Some early and late drawings are sketches, loose, spare, and barely formed, containing multiple, differentiated, quasi-representational figures; others, often on larger paper, have a more "finished" quality, offering a clear inside to the entity, and an outside expanse of unmarked paper. Zurn's work shadows Surrealism's last days. In its procedural simplicity and fragile materiality, it is also a curious outlier to emerging trends in art of the time.' -- Bartholomew Ryan, Artforum
Tributes
UnicaZürn, the band
Unica Zürn @ A Journey Round My Skull
Fantasies Embodied @ Tomorrow Museum
Unica Zürn et son MistAKE
Glass Trees 'Songs for Unica'
Video: A MOVIE FOR UNICA ZÜRN
Video: Something Lives Inside the Machine
Unica Zürn Memory Page
'Dark Spring' Page @ Facebook
----
Excerpt:
Each time, she finds herself tormented by her terrible fear of the rattling skeleton of a huge gorilla, which she believes inhabits the house at night. The sole purpose of his existence is to strangle her to death. In passing, she looks, as she does every night, at the large Rubens painting depicting "The Rape of the Sabine Women." These two naked, rotund women remind her of her mother and fill her with loathing. But she adores the two dark, handsome robbers, who lift the women onto their rearing horses. She implores them to protect her from the gorilla. She idolizes a whole series of fictional heroes who return her gaze from the old, dark paintings that hang throughout the house. One of them reminds her of Douglas Fairbanks, whom she adored as a pirate and as the "Thief of Baghdad" in the movie theater at school. She is sorry she must be a girl. She wants to be a man, in his prime, with a black beard and flaming black eyes. But she is only a little girl whose body is bathed in sweat from fear of discovering the terrible gorilla in her room, under her bed. She is tortured by fears of the invisible.
Who knows whether or not the skeleton will crawl up the twines of ivy that grow on the wall below her window, and then slip into her room. His mass of hard and pointed bones will simply crush her inside her bed. Her fear turns into a catastrophe when she accidentally bumps into the sabers, which fall off the wall with a clatter in the dark. She runs to her room as fast as she can and slams the door shut behind her. She turns the key and bolts the door. One again, she has come out of this alive. Who knows what will happen tomorrow night?
______________
Unica Zürn, a filmic portrait
____________
5 anagrammatic poems
AND IF THEY HAVE NOT DIED
I am yours, otherwise it escapes and
wipes us into death. Sing, burn
Sun, don’t die, sing, turn and
born, to turn and into Nothing is
never. The gone creates sense - or
not died have they and when
and when dead - they are not.
for H.B.Berlin 1956
DANS L’ATTELAGE D’UN AUTRE AGE
(Line from a poem by Henri Michaux)
Eyes, days, door, the old country.
Eagle eyes, a thousand days old.
Ermenonville 1957
WILL I MEET YOU SOMETIME?
After three ways in the rain image
when waking your counterimage: he,
the magician. Angels weave you in
the dragonbody. Rings in the way,
long in the rain I become yours.
Ermenonville 1959
HEXENTEXTE
I spread the white nothing
alas, white is nothing. Remorse
of white smoke stabs silk
of lenity. Sweetness is like
the white. Shout: Don’t do it!
She is me! Become sweet night!
WE LOVE DEATH
Red Thread's body,
Turn bread in sorrow,
Not in question, ax is
Life. We, your death,
you weave your Lot
in soil. Game messenger
we love death
Berlin 1953/4
____________
18 drawings
'Zurn had been a writer before she met the Surrealist photographer Hans Bellmer in Berlin in 1953 and moved with him, that same year, to Paris, where she became part of a circle that included Man Ray, Andre Breton, Max Ernst, and others, and was introduced to "automatic drawing." This technique was originally designed to bypass the "rational" through a passive, "nondirected" engagement of the unconscious. Successive Surrealists made the method their own developing more active approaches corresponding with a variety of quasi-ideological strategies. Zurn, for instance, adapted a technique by which natural imperfections of paper are joined together to initiate the compositional field, instead introducing her own originary marks in the form of small sketched eyes, the basic motif of many of her later works.
'Zurn was attracted to constraints, whether in the procedural rules of the anagram poems or in the conceptual decision undergirding the drawings never to allow figuration to arrive at coherent representation. Although her compositional strategies changed considerably over the years, Zurn's hand remained remarkably consistent. She drew phantasmagoric creatures, chimerical beasts with transparent organs and multiple appendages, plantlike abstractions, oneiric forms, amoebic shapes whose fractal membranes are filled in with multiple recurring motifs: spirals, scales, eyes, dots, beaks, claws, conical tails, leaflike indents. Some early and late drawings are sketches, loose, spare, and barely formed, containing multiple, differentiated, quasi-representational figures; others, often on larger paper, have a more "finished" quality, offering a clear inside to the entity, and an outside expanse of unmarked paper. Zurn's work shadows Surrealism's last days. In its procedural simplicity and fragile materiality, it is also a curious outlier to emerging trends in art of the time.' -- Bartholomew Ryan, Artforum
_______________
Tributes
UnicaZürn, the band
Unica Zürn @ A Journey Round My Skull
Fantasies Embodied @ Tomorrow Museum
Unica Zürn et son MistAKE
Glass Trees 'Songs for Unica'
Video: A MOVIE FOR UNICA ZÜRN
Video: Something Lives Inside the Machine
Unica Zürn Memory Page
'Dark Spring' Page @ Facebook
----
*
p.s. Hey. No one guessed. I'm not surprised. It wasn't easy. Actually, the Big Mac was just a very lifelike fake, and the toast in which the Virgin Mary was stamped was fake too in that case. The non-fake was the grilled cheese sandwich, the 36th image from the bottom, if that helps. It showed up in my 'fake food' search because the cheese is American cheese, which is, of course, just about as fake as edible food ever gets. Anyway, thanks for trying. Okay, now ... ** Allesfliesst, Japanese fake food is the creme of the ... crop or whatever, definitely. That jerking fake fish sounds amazing. It deserves its own novel. I fully expect you will rock the very foundations of Kleist's reputation. And, if you don't, well, there's no accounting for old farts. ** David Ehrenstein, Sadly, I didn't get to meet Ms. Deneuvre after all. Yet anyway. Details in my Itmpw report below. Very interesting indeed about that rediscovered Osbourne play. I hope someone (decent) snatches up the film rights. ** Tonyoneill, Hey, Tony! Yeah, I got your email. I'm just my usual email-phobic self. I did text you while in NYC, so there you go. But it's totally cool. I was kind of half-sick and busy with the performance the whole time anyway. Yeah, I'm thinking the gods have to be on our side the next time you're over here for a book launch/ promo. Let me know the dates whenever you know them. Also, really happy to hear you're so into the new novel. Really, really happy. Does McDonalds offer veggie Big Macs yet? Not in France, but it does seem like they would by now. ** Pilgarlic, No, I'm sure you wouldn't have freaked me out. Getting freaked out was a kind of a goal for me anyway back then. Well, now too within reason. David was just being devilish with that 'Ugly Man' thing. If I had one of those dildo-sized short term memory erasing contraptions they use in 'Men at Black' -- it was on TV here last night lest you think that film has a high berth in my memory or opinion or anything -- I would use it on everyone who read David's devilish comment if I could. Not to be mysterious or anything, ha ha. ** Oscar B, How was the opening? Talk to you later, Christ, this fucking rain, no? ** Tosh, Well, I was denied my chance to meet her by the weather. Details below. But there's still hope. Not until October? I can't wait, but, man, spring in Paris ... there must be some good reason out there to get you here sooner. ** Alan, Weirdly, not. The Virgin Mary apparition was more real than the toast, and that's saying something. Kafka via Wallace, interesting, okay. Yeah, that's a curious, intriguing angle. I guess it is quite peculiar that I've never taken much to Kafka. I remember just not being into the writing itself, but I might have tried the wrong translation. Anyway, clearly, I need to go read what all this fuss is about. ** Killer Luka, Nope, fake toast. Strange, but true. Yeah, I used to want to collect fake food. I looked into it, even. It was the prices that stopped me. All this Kafka stuff is so interesting. There are those of you who say my work has some relationship to his, and those who say the opposite. Other than probably reading 'The Metamorphosis' in school, I don't think I've read more than maybe 10, 15 pages of Kafka in my life. I guess I'm glad I've never looked at sharethatboy.com now. Oh, 'A Hunger Artist', I know that one. Or, wait, maybe only a play based on it. ** Bill, No, I haven't done a real food that looks fake food post, but, given the at least semi-popularity of yesterday's shebang, a sequel might be in order, and your idea is the ticket. Nice location on the house-sit house. I guess I'll know for sure soon, but the signs are very good at the moment that I can live here for two more years, not that I want to stay in Paris for two more years if I can help it. Anyway, chances are, and I'll confirm when I know the verdict. Wow, that is quite bizarre. Very cool. Everyone, courtesy of Bill: 'this is quite bizarre'. ** Bernard Welt, Hey. Can I use that as a blurb? '(Dennis Cooper has) untrammeled access to the whole range of the unconscious. -- Bernard Welt.' Anyway, I'm fascinated by what you say about Kafka. I'm almost getting a little afraid he's going to blow my mind. I don't know if my mind can take the blow at the moment. And yet, if this rain lets up, I'm going to metro down to Shakespeare & Co. this afternoon. Yeah, the Franzen book is garbage. Can you believe the fuss and seriousness about it? Yikes. I did get your email, and thank you and thank you! Have you been in NYC already? I've forgotten your dates. ** Sypha, College for the credits, etc. to get a decent job. That makes sense. Lugging books around is tiring, so, yeah, mystery solved. The reading would have done it too, I guess. I'm so hard at work on my novel right now that I'm just fried every day by about mid-afternoon. ** MANCY, Hey. I saw the email. Great! Thank you, and I'll get back to you with the next step/stuff asap. ** FreeFox, Thanks, pal. About liking the post, I mean. I wonder why England devised itself such a desultory national cuisine. I mean, Dutch cuisine is no greats shakes either, but least it has a philosophy behind it. 'The French live to eat; the Dutch eat to live'. That's what the Dutch say. American cuisine is just an appropriated hodgepodge. Weird. Or maybe not, I don't know. I'm a vegetarian, as you know, so I eat the same stuff wherever I am. ** Heliotrope, Nope, the cupcakes were ... whatever, plaster, plastic, resin? If you still have those boxes of fake food, I'll take them. Or Joel will if I command him to, I think. Dude, you were a buddy among buddies this weekend. Don't try to retract the greatness. I would have been all over that Scream Festival if I were there, dang. Good luck with all the stuff you have to do. Me too, but my stuff is all words. Love and love. ** Laurabeth, Thanks, Laura. And hey there! Yeah, I've thought about doing a second 'Userlands', but I'm pretty sure my Akashic publisher/ boss would have other ideas. LHotB isn't as 'anything goes' as it used to be. But, yeah, I'd like to do it if the opportunity ever arises. Knock that school work out and get ready for the holidays. Hey to Ian, and take care, L. ** JW Veldhoen, Hey. Oh, cool. Everyone, the mighty JW Veldhoen has a new blog and a new motto: 'ALL REAL writing ALL THE TIME. 24/7'. So, I think you know what you need to click. This! I'll have a good taste of that place later. ** Steven Trull, Kind of makes you want to gnaw your teeth down into nubs, doesn't it? ** Eli Jürgen, I wish you would bought that wax cake too. But you're right. It would just sit there. And fake food is probably a big hassle to keep dusted. I'm fine. I'm just a novel finishing machine right now. Concentrated and a little burnt. What a great new job! Seriously! That is one great new job! You have to tell all about it. Well, you don't have to, but I'm such your audience member. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hey. I don't know anything about 'Rising Damp'. Hence, it's a great guest-post day idea, if you have the time. I mean, thanks! That title is so English it's scary. I'll click the clip when I reach novel burn out stage a little later. ** Rigby, I'm glad I'm not the only one to particularly notice that ... that ... fried egg in a whatever thing. I still get nauseous every time I look at it. Yeah, I seem to have perked. It's weird. It's good, I guess. Thanks about the new design. I'm getting to kind of like it too, and not in a Stockholm syndrome kind of way. ** Pascal, Hey, man! Lovely to see you! Thanks a lot for the very kind blog-directed words. Yeah, can we read your published story? Where is it? Can we click onto it? Can we buy it? Oh, awesome that you're so loving that Robbe-Grillet. One of my fave novels, as I guess you know. You good otherwise? Any writing or other writing news or anything? ** Paul Curran, Seriously sucking weather. Rain, rain, rain. Cold, cold, cold. One or the other has to go. Novel still going great guns? Yeah, I don't think my work is paranoid at all, is it? Not at all. ** Christopher/ Mark, Hey, Mark! How are you doing? I've been concerned about the hospital stint stuff. But you're okay now? I sure hope so. Yeah, photos of fake food are a real buzz killer. ** Steevee, Glad the interview(s) went well. I think I'd be seriously intimidated and struck dumb if I had to interview Huppert. She is really it among living actresses to me. ** Kier, Hey, pal. I love fake food. Fake meat makes me queasier than real meat does. I wonder what that's about . You know what, I didn't get the 'Flesh World', or I haven't. Complete weirdness. But, wait, I will interrogate Yury before I give you a definitive no because I think he did shove the mail I got while I was in NYC in some godforsaken pile somewhere. Good, then it's settled: you'll hang out. I promise to stay very hostly. If I can finish my novel, I'll be cool. The breaks have been in my favor so far. Lots of love to you, K. ** Slatted Light, Hey, man. The anti-Kafka, I like that. Well, I guess I should read him again before drape the 'anti-' thing over me. I'm so fucking curious to look at him again now, obviously. He was really big for the Noveau Roman writers, especially Pinget. 'Procedural writing': see, now that sounds really exciting to me. I still can't really come up with favorite romantic films. It's weird. Oh, cool, about your piece/ advice on Alec's blog. I'll read it when I finish up. Everyone, the eminent Slatted Light aka the brilliant David Rylance has a piece of advice for you over on the also great Alec Niedenthal's wonderful, whirring blog 'book or else specter', and, long story short, just click this. Take care, pal. You like Zurn? ** Jose, Hey. That (link) was trippy. Except for the mean comments. Or maybe including them on second thought. Everyone, courtesy of Jose, go look at this thing. You'll be glad. Hey, what's the word on the street about Kinect. Have you tried it, or have you heard any reports re: it of interest? ** Creative Massacre, Hey. Oh, I saw the Gore Day in my mailbox. I'll open it and check it out to see if it's in working order today, and I'll let you know. Thanks a million for that, M., and have a great one. ** Andrew, Not to brag, but I've had the honor of sitting at John Waters' coffee table, and he knows what he's doing, yep. So, is your real computer in the shop right now? How long will you have to be deprived? ** Nb, Yeah, that doll. Just be glad I didn't say it was the real thing. This weekend sounds good. Your email address, okay. I'll remember to send you my Skype number/name so you can find me. I don't leave Skype on when I'm not using it, but, yeah, we should take advantage. Cool. Oh, man, I love that new piece of your writing on your blog. I think it was just beautiful. Really sharp and graceful writing. Yeah, terrific! We can talk more about that by phone too. ** Inthemostpeculiarway, Hey. I bet it's easier to love chilly rain when you live in Texas. I loved chilly rain when I lived in LA. Here it's too usual to love. It's true, that clipping about the '50s pastor trying to find Atlantis in a copy of 'Bleak House' sounds very cool. Did you pocket it? I really want to see The Walking Dead. I'll have to see if this app on my computer that lets me watch select international TV has it. And then I have to take the laptop somewhere where the internet signal isn't a very slow drip. But I'll do that. I read that they've already renewed the show for a second season. My day: Well, like my days are doomed to be for at least the next couple of weeks, it was mostly eaten up by novel work, which is unfortunately not so interesting to talk about. If you want specifics, I'm near the end of the virtually last draft of the fourth 'chapter', as of this morning. There are seven 'chapters'. The narrator and Francois (world renowned chef) and Azmir (the narrator's chauffeur) have just used a large, heavy metal barrel to crush his younger brother Alfonse into a shallow streak of gore in a crude attempt to fulfill his fantasy of being run over by a steamroller, and the narrator is now having a crisis about that. After I got too burnt out to work anymore, I walked over with Kiddiepunk and Oscar to watch Christophe Honore film his new movie. They were filming at and in front of Hotel Kuntz, which is about two minutes walk from where we live. Unfortunately, it had been pouring rain all day and had only just ceased for a short time, so the filming was way behind, and they had let Catherine Deneuvre go home, which is understandable, so she wasn't there, and they were just setting up a shot. I talked to Christophe for a little while. Oh, he said 'Homme au Bain' looks like it's going to be released in the US by IFC's film distribution wing, so that's cool. He said there would be other opportunities to meet Ms. Deneuvre, so we'll see. Then we left. So, not much happened on that front. I came home and ate and did some blog stuff and watched 'Men in Black' and part of 'Panic Room' dubbed into French on TV. 'MiB' was sort of charming, and 'PR' was still meh. And then I slept, How's Tuesday? ** Postitbreakup, Hey. Oh, gosh, maybe in a blue moon, yeah, ha ha. It was just a weird week, you know? You doing good? ** The Dreadful Flying Glove, Hey. Oh, we'll just forget about Tobin Sprout's visual artist side. Can you sing like him? That's the main thing. Big congrats on the visa acquiring. Man, no small thing there. When are you actually planning to head down there again? Do you have a preset place to live there? I'm sure you've said, but I seem to have forgotten these things. ** L@rstonovich, Well, if you have to be waylaid, it might as well be by The Behemoth. ** Misanthrope, Beatrix Potter. Now you're using your noggin'. Yep, you nailed it. Ka-ching! ** Jheorgge, Hey, man! Seriously great to see you! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, I want. I want with such a terrible want. Yes, please. You are a god. Do you have my address? (c/o Centre International des Recollets, 150 rue du Faubourg St. Martin, 75010 Paris, France). I actually haven't read the last few Alan Warner books, I don't know why. No reason. But I love his work. 'The Sopranos', yes. 'These Demented Lands', yes. And obviously it just doesn't get much better than 'Morvern Callar'. Yeah, great to see you, buddy. Here's heavily hoping re: the longish piece of fiction. I'm all ears and all eyes. Love to you, Jh. ** Little foal, Hey, Darren. Thank you so, so much for your email. That was wonderful, and, yeah, just thank you, my dear friend. I had this really good feeling about the backpack, as I think I told you. And there's the proof. A whole bunch of it. For God's sake don't wash that backpack or anything. Sure, I would love a copy of your friend's book, if you don't kind. Thank you a lot for that. My address is just north of here if you need it. You sound great! It's so nice to hear. Love to you, D. ** Okay, I'll go refresh myself and then do what I always do and must do: work on my novel. I hope you find the Unica Zurn post interesting. She's pretty great, I think. See you tomorrow.
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