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Andrew Lang
B. 3.31.1844 Selkirk, Scotland / D. 7.20.1912 Banchory, Scotland
Angina Pectoris

Re-reading some old work last night I had to stop when I came to the part about Paula (the Brown pages)
but then the perfect moment to plunge rolled around for Sade started singing Is It a Crime on the live album CD I’d slipped into as something familiar— too familiar!—
and I read on so brutal!
Sade Adu is no benevolent fairy, you could say I can prove it (and did, in this section). But consider the White pages, what a transcendent opening—it whirls weightless in time— a piñata of pain, who am I kidding?
and then the Blue pages, heavy honey-soaked history sliced and served with inflections of horror.
The Gray pages needed some work. I’d never been happy with that episode but of course it always did epitomize room for improvement—the last page is better now, in any event. Sade Adu you preside over February’s full moon—as you pursue your long tormented search for pitch the mountains of the moon are shaking gravel from their bonnie banks in sympathy. Tap tap tap—the gravel falls beneath my fingertips. Tap tap—memory.

Consolation Site: Take the high road

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