I’VE ALWAYS REMEMBERED YOU ON MOONLIT NIGHTS
Really, I should have written this ages ago. I put it off and put it off: I kept putting it off.
Why didn’t I write it then? I knew my father was dying. The angel of death was pursuing him, counting the days. I too was being pursued by a kind of vindictive angel — this song. Wherever I went it followed. I couldn’t believe my ears, I was scared, unknown powers were playing tricks on me. Perhaps I should have written about it there and then, but I was running away from that. That the song followed me wherever I went was strange enough but I didn’t want the affair to be further confused by the daemonic magic of the written word. If I could have written at the time I don’t know whether it would have turned out exactly as I imagined. A restraining hand from within kept holding me back. And, too, my grief was so fresh that to convert it right away into the written word seemed to me an unpleasant bit of utilitarianism. I was keeping my distance. Continue reading