Lucien Darjeun Meadows
where we are, much more than we are
when we are. There is no when without a where. There is no we without a here.
NER staff reader Simone Kraus talks to Lucien Darjeun Meadows author of the essay “Circling Eloh: A Meditation“ about his love of running, the meaning of the Cherokee word “eloh,” his identity as a writer-translator, and the linguistic kaleidoscope in his life. Lucien’s essay appeared in
NER 41.4.
Simone Kraus: You are a long-distance trail runner. How does running inform your thinking, how does it affect your writing?
Lucien Darjeun
Meadows: Strangely, it wasn’t until after running the Never Summer 100K in 2019 that I began to write in poetry and prose about running. That said, the rhythms of running feel essential to my thinking and writing, with different sequences mirroring the sprint up a hill, or a long rolling stretch, the pause between breaths or strides that feels like an endless suspension, or the breathless careening
Dear Friends,
Please accept this duplicated newsletter from me with some news which should interest you. The Arts Laboratory Located on Drury Lane for the past two and a half years is closed. The Arts Lab was many things to many people: a vision frustrated by an indifferent, fearful, and secure society; an experiment with such intangibles as people, ideas, feelings, and communications; a restaurant; a cinema; a theatre (Moving Being, Freehold, Poeple Show, Human Family, etc); underground television (Rolling Stones at Hyde Park, Isle of Wight, Dick Gregory All-Night Event); a gallery (past exhibitions include Yoko Ono & Lennon, Takis, et al); free notice boards (buy/sell, rides to Paris); a tea room; astrological readings; an information bank (tape,video, &live-Dick Gregory, Lennie Bruce, Michael X, Michael McClure…); happenings (verbal and otherwise); music (live and tape including The Fugs, Donovan, Leonard Cohen, Third Bar Band, Shawn Phillips, Kylastron, etc.) ; books, magazine
Died: December 6, 2020. JIM HAYNES, who has died in Paris at the age of 87, was a bon vivant, an ever-generous host and a flamboyant character who forever had a twinkle in his eye. Formidably well-connected, he was a counter-cultural polymath who recalled introducing David Bowie to the mime artist, Lindsay Kemp, and was once described as being, in the early 1960s, the unofficial agent for the beat generation in Scotland. He founded the UK’s first paperback bookshop, in Edinburgh; when he relocated to Paris, in 1969, he kept an open house, and his Sunday-evening dinners became the stuff of Parisian legend.