Coming Soon:

The following books by Robert Paul Wolff are available on Amazon.com as e-books: KANT'S THEORY OF MENTAL ACTIVITY, THE AUTONOMY OF REASON, UNDERSTANDING MARX, UNDERSTANDING RAWLS, THE POVERTY OF LIBERALISM, A LIFE IN THE ACADEMY, MONEYBAGS MUST BE SO LUCKY, AN INTRODUCTION TO THE USE OF FORMAL METHODS IN POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Now Available: Volumes I, II, III, and IV of the Collected Published and Unpublished Papers.

NOW AVAILABLE ON YOUTUBE: LECTURES ON KANT'S CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON. To view the lectures, go to YouTube and search for "Robert Paul Wolff Kant." There they will be.

To contact me about organizing, email me at rpwolff750@gmail.com




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Tuesday, October 7, 2014

J'ARRIVE J'ARRIVE


My next door neighbors from 1971 to 1980 in Northampton were the Bagg family – Bob Bagg, a UMass English Professor, Sally Bagg, a cellist [in whose parents’ home they then lived], and five children, Teddy, Chris, Jonathan, Melissa, and Hazard.  Hazzie was a bit older than my older son, Patrick.  Bob is a poet – one of the “Amherst poets” in the line that began with Robert Frost and continued through Richard Wilbur [with whose beautiful wife I danced in the American Academy in Rome on New Year’s Eve 1954, when I had just turned twenty-one and she was amusing herself by vamping me.]  Jonathan is now the violist of the Ciompi Quartet, which is in residence at Duke University, where Susie and I have heard him several times.

One of Bob’s poems concerns a meeting with a woman, in which there appears the line “J’arrive, J’arrive.”  I think the meeting takes place on the Riviera, but it is forty years and more since I have read the poem.  Anyway, I always think that is what I should say when I get to Paris, so:

J’arrive, J’arrive!

1 comment:

Aldo Antonelli said...

PLAYING THE WHEEL
By Robert Bagg

We are leaving the Casino at Juan-les-Pins
the roulette marbles still tumbling over numbers
about to lodge in somebody else's stomach.

By a hotel full of the Rolling Stones
arrogantly parked is a black Maserati,
the mild swale of its transparent fastback

frosted smooth by the August dawn.
There a suave finger––speaking, I supposed,
for the whole woman––had written,

"Dear Luc, I waited for you since three hours.
Your anger not incurable anger?
Biot 479 310"

My fingers are spinning the dial
around like the wheel of fortunate numbers
ticking into a perfect parlay

just as she answers—Daisy! with a voice
full of money which I spend in the dream
Je suis Luc J'arrive J'arrive

[The picture on Bagg's web page, http://www.robertbagg.com/bio.htm is taken in front of the gate of the American Academy in Rome, up on top of the Janiculum.]