On Sundays, before I come in to work on the business desk at the New York Post, M and I visit the farmers’ market in our neighborhood of Park Slope in Brooklyn. Recently (Sunday, Sept. 22), while M was out of town – a whirlwind author event tour – I went on my own, where, a bit down in the dumps about my own writing career, I confided some of those feelings to Rafael, our premium coffee, nut, granola and nut spread provider, who had, a year or so ago, lifted my spirits by calling me out as one of the readers during the “Moby Dick” marathon reading event in Brooklyn, saying only “Moby Dick,” his English not being as strong as it is now, and in this case, Rafael stepped away from a customer who was buying at least a three-pack of nuts to quote to me Paul Verlaine, saying, “And All the Rest is Literature,” which led me to look up the translation itself, THE ART POETIQUE, the final stanza of which is:
“Let your verse be the happy occurrence,
Somehow within the restless morning wind,
Which goes about smelling of mint and thyme...
And all the rest is literature.”
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All systems go for the Steamtown Marathon. Twelve days and counting!
Next: Running for Your Life: How to Stay the Course
Running for Your Life: And All the Rest is Literature
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