![]() What is this passage? An inquiry result from a search engine that relies on algorithms that favor the fascinating? And is there any reason why whatever it is cannot be poetry? Ah daddy, I wanna stay drunk many days, he wrote, and did. She would have preferred to live perpetually in “l’heure de bleu.” Her dear friend Frank O’ Hara understood. Joan Mitchell—abstract painter of the first order, American expatriate living on Monet’s property in France, dedicated chromophile and drunk, possessor of a famously nasty tongue, and creator of arguably my favorite painting of all time, Les Bluets, which she painted in 1973, the year of my birth—found the green of spring incredibly irritating. Delerium tremens used to be called the “blue devils” (Burns, 1787.) In England “the blue hour” is happy hour at the pub. In German, to be blue— blau sein—means to be drunk. Bird Lovers, Backyard by Thalia Field.The Cloud Corporation by Timothy Donnelly. ![]()
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