stack of books on the nightstand.
not always my favorite,
not always what is currently being read,
but always an interest -
something to be read up on -
or a story to be kept close.
on some level,
conscious or subconscious,
the books represent whatever i'm channeling,
or in the case of "alex,"
something i'm trying to channel.
kinda hippy dippy,
from bottom to top:
a biography of the ballet dancer moira shearer,
who played vicky in "the red shoes,"
(more on that subject later);
a birthday gift from a close friend,
the unfinished novel "answered prayers" by tru heart;
a wonderfully interesting book called "children of the sun,"
about the generation between the world wars,
the bright young people in england,
about their heady youth and bedraggled ends.
found this one somewhere in boston,
what a superb title as well;
a biography about conde nast editor alexander liberman,
a man of incredible struggles and incredible chic,
signed by the man himself.
co-written by calvin tomkins,
i found this at the left bank bookstore,
before they moved to 8th avenue;
the book of poems "a shropshire lad" by a. e. housman,
the others will surely come and go,
but i think this one will remain.