“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.” — Martha GrahamContinue reading “There Is a Vitality”
The color cast on the water yesterday evening at Coronado was less a shade of blue and more a melange of purples: lilac, heather, periwinkle, suffused over a deep eggplant… I hadn’t seen a sea like that before. It was gorgeous. The sun made its casual descent over Point Loma.Continue reading “Born Into Purple”
Taylor Swift’s “cabin in candlelight” version of her new song “cardigan” carries a good whiff of Lana del Rey influence. I’ve read Taylor say she loves Lana’s lyricism. When I first heard T. Swift’s song earlier this week, I chuckled to myself about the marked influence and thought I wouldn’t be too moved by the song. Taylor trying to do Lana? Nah… Continue reading “Safe to Cry”
by Lorine Niedecker, Wisconsin poet
Keen and lovely man moved as in a dance
to be considerate in lighted, glass-walled
almost outdoor office. Business Continue reading “[Keen and lovely man moved as in a dance]”
Kelly, unlike myself, likes to share her food and drink with others and – also unlike myself – has a million friends with whom to share the food and drink. Continue reading “Kelly’s Coffee”
Half-hour interval before the wash is done. Write for 30 minutes — go!
For the past two weeks, I have been listening to Third Eye Blind’s eponymous album from 1997. I have no idea why, other than that the album rocks. I first purchased the CD, used, off Amazon at age 12 or something because I loved the song “How’s It Gonna Be.” These days, pretty much the whole album speaks directly to my soul. I envision myself painting madly, with full-bent feminine rage, to this album. The last four songs, especially the last three… wow.
As much as possible these days, I play the game of intuition on the weekends. I have designed a “no plans” lifestyle for myself, which allows for complete freedom of being during my non-work hours. The game of intuition, for me, means acting as instinctively as possible, moment to moment, from basically the moment I leave work on Friday afternoons until going to bed on Sunday evenings. Continue reading “A Saturday in the Life”
Whoever said that everything you need to know in life can be learned in high school English class was onto something.
With a light green pen, age 17, I copied the following information into my class notebook. Continue reading “Organized Innocence”
What fuller beauty than beauty
willing to surface,
subtilement exposé, every
where to be found.
I pity those who dream the probable, the reasonable and the accessible more than those who fantasize about the extraordinary and remote. Those who have grandiose dreams are either lunatics who believe in what they dream and are happy, or they’re mere daydreamers whose reveries are like the soul’s music, lulling them and meaning nothing. Continue reading “The Dream that Promises the Impossible”
HERMAN MELVILLE (1819-1891)
On Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Tragic Vision 1851
There is a certain tragic phase of humanity which, in our opinion, was never more powerfully embodied than by Hawthorne. We mean the tragicalness of human thought in its own unbiased, native, and profounder workings. Continue reading “On Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Tragic Vision”
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (1804-1864)
On Herman Melville’s Philosophic Stance 1856
[Melville] stayed with us from Tuesday till Thursday; and, on the intervening day, we took a pretty long walk together, and sat down in a hollow among the sand hills (sheltering ourselves from the high, cool wind) and smoked a cigar. Continue reading “On Herman Melville’s Philosophic Stance”
In the house the women begin to sing. We hear the first line commence, beginning to swell as they take hold, and we rise and move toward the door, taking off our hats and throwing our chews away. We do not go in. We stop at the steps, clumped, holding our hats between our lax hands in front or behind, standing with one foot advanced and our heads lowered, looking aside, down at our hats in our hands and at the earth or now and then at the sky and at one another’s grave, composed face.
-William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying
Make yourself up a cheering song of how
Someone’s road home from work this once was,
Who may be just ahead of you on foot
Or creaking with a buggy load of grain.
The height of the adventure is the height
Of country where two village cultures faded
Into each other. Both of them are lost.
And if you’re lost enough to find yourself
By now, pull in your ladder road behind you
And put a sign up CLOSED to all but me.
Then make yourself at home.
The Soul selects her own Society—
Then—shuts the Door—
To her divine Majority—
Present no more— Continue reading “303”
. . . speak what you think today in words as hard as cannon balls, and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today. Ah, then, exclaim the aged ladies, you shall be sure to be misunderstood! Misunderstood! It is a right fool’s word. Is it so bad then to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson Continue reading “Words as Hard as Cannon Balls”
“Gertrude Stein says that if you are way ahead with your head you naturally are old fashioned and regular in your daily life. And Picasso adds, do you suppose Michel Angelo would have been grateful for a gift of a piece of renaissance furniture, no he wanted a Greek coin.”
-Gertrude Stein, The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas