Les Lettres Tristes - Foxy Production
Les Lettres Tristes - Foxy Production
Les Lettres Tristes - Foxy Production
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By Tan Lin<br />
B 1 2007<br />
I read a story about people who, because they<br />
died of wounds inflicted any number of years<br />
earlier, are known as reclassified homicides.<br />
There were thirty-five such homicides in New<br />
York in the past year and they are a matter of<br />
public interest. Often they lead to upgraded<br />
criminal charges and new trials. The NYPD<br />
releases the information throughout the year,<br />
based on rulings made by New York City’s<br />
medical examiner and information that passes<br />
through New York City’s Office of Public<br />
Records, which is the conduit for all deaths that<br />
occur after 1949. The number of reclassified<br />
homicides was unusually high for 2006 and<br />
it lead to an uptick in the number of total<br />
homicides for the year, which was also greater<br />
than in 2005. No explanation for either of<br />
December, Twelve, Two Thousand and Eight<br />
these increases has been found. During 2006,<br />
neither forensic methods nor the manner of<br />
reporting deaths changed within the office<br />
of the medical examiner, and Raymond<br />
Kelly, New York’s Police Commissioner, said,<br />
“They’re what we have to live with. It is a bit<br />
of a fluke.” Sirkime Stevenson died today<br />
(January 2006) though he was killed in 1991<br />
when bullets fired by a stranger in a passing<br />
car shattered his spine, eventually causing<br />
infections that resulted in the amputation of a<br />
leg (1997). Until that point, he had dreamed of<br />
walking again. The killer was never identified.<br />
B 4 1997<br />
I read a story of an older woman on the<br />
subway who offers her seat to a woman with<br />
a young child, both of whom get off the IRT<br />
No. 2 train at 72nd Street. A reporter in the car<br />
inquires after the older woman, learns that her<br />
name is Drane Shyti, an Albanian, fifty-seven<br />
years old, that she has been in America for two<br />
years and misses her own children, a son in<br />
England and a daughter in Greece. Ms. Shyti<br />
“works in a hotel laundry.” “Her husband is<br />
a porter.” Before coming to America, he had<br />
been a math teacher and she an elementary<br />
school teacher. On the same page, beneath<br />
the fold, an article documents a website that<br />
allows users to compare aerial shots of the<br />
same areas of New York taken at two points in<br />
time. The years, like most items in such public<br />
inventories, is arbitrary: 1996 and 2004. The<br />
site, oasisnyc.com is funded by government<br />
and private agencies and provides information<br />
on property ownership and land use. An aerial<br />
photo, one of three that are reprinted, shows<br />
a section of Coney Island with shadows cast<br />
OX to A to Z Journal, Like a Nocturne By Dave Miko<br />
by the Parachute Jump ride in 1996; in 2004,<br />
the shot of the same ground reveals different<br />
or conflicting information produced by the<br />
passage of time, which appears to be manually<br />
rendered: a green ball field that is used by the<br />
Brooklyn Cyclones.<br />
A 1 2005<br />
My head is bent over the obit of Frank Stanton,<br />
the understated, reserved CBS executive who<br />
was William S. Paley’s right hand man but never<br />
socialized with his boss, and who helped shape<br />
television as a medium “for the majority of<br />
Americans.” Stanton was so sure Paley would<br />
offer him the chairmanship of CBS that he<br />
refused President Johnson’s offer to become<br />
the next Secretary of Health, Education and<br />
Welfare. But in the end, Paley held onto his<br />
job, and Stanton was forced to retire without<br />
becoming chairman. He left CBS disillusioned,<br />
referring to the institution as “just another<br />
company with dirty carpets.” On his last day,<br />
he declined to attend a party that Paley had<br />
thrown for him and simply left the office as if<br />
it were another work day. He told Lillian Ross<br />
of the New Yorker: “I think I’ll make it home<br />
in time for the 7 o’clock news.” He left no<br />
survivors and asked that there be no memorial<br />
service and that no donations be made in his<br />
honor.<br />
A3 2008<br />
And then, as I read his obit, I think of a<br />
room that is ambient and incapable of being<br />
distressed by objects. Such a room of the most<br />
minor of anxieties (such as yours or mine)<br />
might be assembled by a computer in the same<br />
way that an airport might “use computers to<br />
schedule flights.” 1<br />
D2 1987<br />
Such a room might include a refrigerator<br />
produced in Korea by one company and<br />
marketed in China under a different brand to<br />
less or more stringent energy configurations<br />
that are consistent with terms set forth by the<br />
Kyoto Protocol.<br />
D12<br />
Such protocols, like the room, might include<br />
the sound of the rain, with which has picked<br />
up sulfur dioxides in the form of stack gasses,<br />
turning the leaves of a fern in southeastern<br />
Ohio yellow. And then, the rain will be heavy<br />
at times and will cause local flooding in low<br />
lying areas.<br />
C 3 1975<br />
As a rule of description, it may be necessary to<br />
“cause the parable to rain” or the crust of the<br />
earth to become a cigarette.<br />
C5<br />
And because it is early, such a room might<br />
also include the sound of the rain turning<br />
into something that looks like snow or a<br />
bottle of Bordeaux. Bordeaux is a novel or a<br />
newspaper.<br />
What is the minor anxiety of a novel? I believe<br />
it was something you were reading yesterday<br />
or the day before because the novel is a brand<br />
that is no longer made by hand.<br />
C9<br />
The newspaper is so plainly like all our other<br />
feelings. I remember plainly a lesson from<br />
1 Mark Wigley, “Network Fever” Grey<br />
Room 4, p 12-61