Eterniday

My play is done, and I'll be getting back into my regular irregular routine pretty soon. Must clear off desk and clean the house!

But once the show, Middletown, was up and running, I did manage to read Utopia Parkway: The Life and Work of Joseph Cornell, by Deborah Solomon, discovering that, like me, he made up a word for a certain kind of day. Just as I have the Random Coinciday, Cornell had the "eterniday," the one that lingers on forever, extending melancholy into a permanent state in which one wears a bathrobe.

Or something like that.

I love Joseph Cornell's boxes, his assemblage, and I can't help but love him, an odd man with a love of sweets. Of course lines from the Prologue of Middletown, by Will Eno, seem to apply. Cornell was one of the "gentle gentle people, infinitely injured, lost souls, ghouls, ghosts, descendants, shades, shadows, future ancestors" that Eno celebrates in his play, down to the "last lone dying and inconsolably lonely person" lying on his couch on Utopia Parkway. What a great name for a street.

I wish I could add Eterniday to my list of eight days a week here in the blog, but I think I must leave it to Joseph Cornell.

Or use it sparingly.