Friday, February 20, 2009

Marianne Moore for Friday

When I wake at six or seven -- I drink a glass of water -- write a résumé in a little 2 1/2 by 3 1/2 Swiss calendar-diary, given to me by a friend, of the previous day, any special name or fact I mustn't forget -- hang on my trapeze for a moment or two -- whether infirm or not, read a few lines calculated to counteract infirmity, from the Bible usually, as stabilizing "the innocency of our lives and the constancy of our faith" -- impatient to work but pause for breakfast -- bring it to my room -- half a grapefruit or orange juice, honey, an egg, hard-boiled or scrambled, a piece of Pepperidge white toast -- may eat a chocolate leaf if I have one -- in winter, dark hot chocolate with marshmallow or whipped cream, in summer perhaps no egg -- hearing meanwhile what Bob Hite has to say about the weather -- dress and go on answering correspondence of the day before, interrupted constantly by the telephone.

"How They Start the Day," originally in the September 1963 Glamour. From The Complete Prose of Marianne Moore, pp. 660-1.