OK, one last thing.
I'll read a little bit from this book, which
is called "Nothing Fictional That the Accuracy
or Arrangement She" which I think
is a pretty accurate description of what the book is.
I wanted to catalog and document women in France.
I wrote this entire book in France.
And they are all women that I have known or not known.
But everything is true.
All right, I'll read a few pieces from there.
Nothing fictional but the accuracy or arrangement she.
Is not responsible for, not entitled
to it, love, catastrophe.
Makes music by way of an accidental foot to wine glass
to floor in a gentle he.
A sparkle of shatter and nothing, no nothing,
is ever soundproof for long, if ever, if ever desired.
Waters plants and doesn't water plants.
And the difference conflict, silence, breaking, ship, ocean,
bodies of, and people, real people,
and their respective waters.
Celebrates the birthdays of loved ones
with or without their presence.
A nice dinner champagne, toast, cake,
all of it with friends, family, and whatever such characters,
whoever is on hand.
Nice if you could join us too.
Gets forced into a narrowing situation
outside the wrong house in a thus narrow outside
laughs uncomfortably as a cheap means of breathing.
Wakes up immediately, leaning for a question, not unusual,
getting to be as if it could be talked about in angles,
as if talking about it was related to progress.
Smokes rapidly as a nod to exercise.
Associates some people with holidays.
Man of the 4th, Cinco de Mayo girl.
But for the most part something else
due to the content of their conversation.
And nothing more than a personal unadmitted awareness
of a small fleeting or possibly fleeting fact,
proposed over several hours too many
have talked about film and culture and sculpture
and not jazz but Baroque and then pause
to remember, yes, you.
That anyone ever talking about art
is more or less talking about their own person and then
once this is so, then a convenient way
to get to know someone without their explicit knowledge.
Can never find the right match.
Lights her cigarette on the hot water heater, the gas stove,
the broiler, a stick in someone's mouth.
Lights everything this way.
Steps insincerely out onto the false balcony,
albeit a genuine need for air.
Party huddling behind her back, formulaic exchanges slipping
under the floorboards, meant to be astonished,
meant to be flattered, desperately inhaling deeply
via a cigarette.
Eats potato chip crumbs off the floor with an emphasis
at times on eating the chip, at times
on keeping the floor clean.
Participates willingly in an eating contest against a man
quite large for her size.
At the crux of a contest, whispers through her
left shoulder that she couldn't possibly eat another bite.
This is not what is repeated into the rest of the crowd,
including the opponent.
And how it is always often the breach
between the game that is played and the game that is won.
Swallows a bird until she's too short.
Lies down to sleep, missing some limbs, not her own.
Fakes a residual longing.
Pushes her hair back with someone else's hand.
Different uses of force or waiting for what to blow.
Eats at a fantastic speed, then moving right
on to the next medium of consumption.
Each day decides upon which of the familiar sounds
to continue taking for granted, which to appreciate anew
this time, which to accommodate mildly, tepidly,
which to temper when.
Incorrectly keeps looking at someone's face
with a feeling of familiarity, while the true point of memory
hovers in the voice, or even afterwards
the same voice or rather the same timbre
or rather range of pitch and the breaks in your voice as.
Falling prey to assumptions based on holiday traditions.
Eats the best turkey ever, ever in her life
in the form of a chicken.
On the brink of giving up on heat,
one big last ditch, to eat for warmth, to bathe for warmth,
to walk for warmth, make love, find love in spite of itself
for warmth, then keeps a catalog of forgettable sounds
and interminable documentary.
As if to forget anything completely
was impossible to desire.
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]