I hurt my fucking back - again - this time taking laundry from the basket (the tiniest 'wrong' move can fell you, but you can't avoid it as you don't know what it is 'til too late), so I spent last night eating Solpadol 30/500 and reading Robert Hass. I have fallen for him bigtime, his poetry is splendid and I can't believe I had not heard of him before. He reminds me a little of Lydia Davis, another writer I recently discovered (and love).
'It is good to sit down to birthday cakewith children, who think it is the entire pointof life and who, therefore, respect each detailof the ceremony... '
Robert Hass, 'September Notebook: Stories'
And I can't resist this new review of The State of Me. Always pleased when a reader comments on the writing as well as the (hugely important) message about the illness.