Said a pseudo-American prophet, “p— is sooooo crucial!” I am really American, so I believe in this very hard. And, as really important things must happen in cool places (the defenestration of Prague was in the castle, births and deaths … Read More
Egypt is the place to be right now. Personally, I don’t want to be there, but it is certainly the best place to be. I am jealous of those who are there right now. Before I explain why, a little … Read More
The Program in Dance’s Spring Dance Festival: expertly choreographed works performed by accomplished student dancers at the Berlind Theater. There, I sat and stared at the stage. There, danced young men and women, their figures silhouetted against the backdrop, their motion passionate and firm. I sat next to my dear friend, who is herself an accomplished dancer.
I grew up in Newton, Massachusetts, a quiet settlement eight miles from Copley Square. The Marathon’s route follows Commonwealth Avenue through Newton into Boston. My house is a block from the Marathon’s 20-mile marker, in the middle of Heartbreak Hill, the most notorious of a series of four steep ascents that runners must endure as they pass through the city.
Last Sunday, I spoke with one of my dear friends about God. We were walking down some path strewn with magnolia petals, as the sun finally shone through the trees, talking about the trees, the breeze, the news.
“When you’re famous and say you’re writing a book, people assume that it’s an autobiography—I was born here, raised there, suffered this, loved that, lost it all, got it back, the end. But that’s not what this is. I’ve never been a linear thinker, which is something you can see in my rhymes. They follow the jumpy logic of poetry and emotion, not the straight line of careful prose. My book is like that, too.”