Fiction, rum, roses.
Why escapism belongs to summer is beyond me. Actually it doesn't, come to think of it. My mind has been known to wander in every season but spring. But it's the places my mind wanders in summer...and the creative collisions that surprised me the other day listening to B-sides. That is summer.
Pretty Nell the handsome cabin boy. Yes I've written that as well. But without the childbirth. Obviously I'd come up with the idea before childbirth was interesti
I thought I'd experiment with Comic Sans in this blog. Comic Sans MS is the way forward in our society. It really really is the greatest font. Anyways, enough about that...issue...let's move on to more pressing topics. So...more conflict in the Middle East. That place is getting pretty screwed up if you ask me. I think we (the West) should stay out of it. It's only gonna end badly. VERY badly.
So...well I'm still on my summer holiday. Not much happened today. I'm making good progress with m
Well well well. I am no longer a blog virgin. It is currently 13:41 GMT London Time, the sun is shining, it's baking hot and I only just got up 20 minutes ago :D . My dad went down to the Bakers and got me a sausage roll for lunch, now I have an extream headache from all that fat, and I think i'm going to barf. Today's plans are:
1. Read three chapters of my current book in the garden
2. Read the script I was given for an upcoming play
3. Listen to 'Aerial' again
4. Tidy my room
I am comfortable in my house
I know where everything is
things get misplaced but I somehow find them again
I have the lights turned off you see
wondering around, feeling the furniture and walls
I climb the stairs
and bump my way down them again
I can tell you where everything is
if you happen to call on me
but if you do
I may just hide
in the dark
behind my sofa
If you visit, then please....
refrain from turning on the lights!
they shine in my eyes
how safe I feel, hidden from you
closed and cold
secure and pityful
self-despising and full of regret
yearning for you
yet retreating from you
longing for and pushing away
the door maybe open...... just a little
the hinges are stiff and rusty with tears
push a little harder
but don't shout
be as quiet as a mouse
gently does it
just a whisper
now you're in my house.
Often I have written of moments of blitz, the artistic condition that smites the distant eye and traps the artist between observance and feeling. But blitzfast as these moments are, they perhaps are born of an impatience, a ceaseless wish for something to happen.
I sit outside, it is past midnight, the moon waxes over ridges and a river roars close by. When will they come? I can't sit here all night! When does the next thing happen? I could be inside with the others watching a movie, but t
Lost in a room is nothing new
and sometimes pleasanter than others
and watch the young people dancing
watch the young people smiling
watch the young people leave the room
smiling, dancing, making sense
No, not one of them, not me
there they go and I am not
one of them
or two of them
I am happy for all the others
all the others
all the others
I wish them everything I can't
have and sometimes a tear fills my well
being but happy they have
a moment of p
An Explosion, in several parts
Fassung fassen! jabberwalk!
Part one is that I part from grief
part to partial partitur, I hate, I love
I wear away, I'm here and why
my own words crack my head asunder
shedding tears and sobs like stress.
DAMNED! and Damning!
Walled in now, with music and my headphone towers
no one reaches me who cannot, willnot, write.
Mimetic? Stuffed! I build with words
the world I ought to see and don't.
Part one is that I part from grief
And it was high summer in the south of France. Work and the car, oven cleaner and scraping the oil off the grill were the escape and now life was real, like the marmelade that would have been roundly condemned under the auspices of science. It was contained in a giant mason jar as a gentle wind carried hints of the afternoon heat to come through the muslin barrier at the window; my bare arm in the shade of hundreds of years absorbed the heat and held on to the cool...I watched it run across th
Someone in the UK is listening to my radio station. :) I don't know if it's someone here, someone on another forum that I visit, or just a random someone, but it is very much appreciated. I recently became the #1 station in my primary genre. Thanks to everyone who is listening for putting me there!
:) I've just reached 100 posts on this forum and it feels like I've been running up the hill forever. I'm not the most accomplished virtual communicator, but it's a comfort that I can reach even this stage. This forum is like a huge, rambling house for me with lots of rooms that are sometimes quiet and sometimes very noisy and busy. The odd room is sometimes "locked", either literally or by inference. It can be a daunting structure to find one's way through, but with some patience, determinatio
I was depressed a few nights ago because several of you here and others from another forum have been putting together various meet ups that I cannot make. At first, I thought that it was a matter of both the time and the money. After surfing around the 'net and window shopping (which is what I usually do when depressed), I came to the conclusion that...
...it's only a matter of the time, not money.
Yes, that's right - for the first time in my 38+ years on this earth, I am apply
Parallel events: a scream rushes from my brain towards my lips, in my dream I plummet toward a ground I can't see. Just as I hit the ground full force, the scream bursts from my mouth, and again I sit bolt upright, breathless. For one moment I am blissfully unaware, and perplexed as to where I am. In hindsight that moment, the whole succession of events moves slower than a snail, though it was certainly no more than two blinks of an eye. The moment ends too quickly and it all floods over the
Finding joy in the little things! At times I am good at it, but in my Costanza-like way I hang on a universe of begetting, with every peep of the joyful there will come the slight of the bad. One does well not to get caught up in the euphoria, distracted from the lurking demons ready to take you down a notch in every corner of life. I forgot that little mantra last week, and, euphoric over the joy of others surrounding me, I was utterly dumbstruck by the comeupance of rejection. A small step
Just got off the phone with someone who is writing an article about competitive marching band in Kentucky high schools for a statewide magazine. We don't often get press for what we do with our kids: the opportunities to learn music, travel, perform, compete; not to mention the development of leadership skills and life lessons learned. The writer is a "band mom," so I know that we will get the right treatment. Looking forward to that coming out in September.
Other than that, I'm working
The artistic condition is when life is most tortuous, because it is the most vivid; it is when the painter, the poet loses him- or herself in the intensity of the living moment, when the artist transcends and becomes like a string resonating with tension and force. Solitary in his or her ob-con-servatory and suddenly struck like by lightening with the closeness and force of life around him or her, though not from within.
I cried different tears today than I have ever cried before, for shee
Anyway, I am a music teacher for grades 6-12. I also teach three periods of Arts & Humanities to all of Grade 10. I am currently working on my Master of Arts in Education (Music Emphasis).
Oh, almost forgot, I also compose music (heavily influenced by Philip Glass)... and no, I am not a spy! :lol:
I have promoted works by members of another forum in my live broadcasts. If you would like me to talk you up on my next live show, let me know! Sorry, at this time I cannot accept music (of all things!) because of the legal wrangling with the Digital Millenium Copyright Act (DMCA).
Listening to Mrs. B on my internet radio station. Oh, that's right... being a newbie, I haven't told you about myself. Anyway, I have an internet radio station at Live365. You can listen by going to my website at http://home.alltel.net/mrklarinet. I play lots of oldies, plus Kate Bush, Yes, Pink Floyd, and just about anything else. I have just recently started doing live broadcasts on an intermittent schedule. The next time I schedule one, I'll post it here.
In the meantime, you can visit t
I write not of art, not of what I know, and yet in the artistic condition, under the premise that a theraputic attempt to record the artistic condition is all I know to do. I stand at the bottom of an abyss, and feel nothing.
If I could only write a song...
Midnight in my heart and I wish the sun would go away. The time when I could be really alone and the night would seem bigger than it ever has before. Just the light of the pagescreen here and a star or two in the black black sky;
For me it is late and I am very active...almost euphorically active.
Yet slowly I am becoming aware of a feeling of uneasiness, as if something is coming...these periods of euphoria are almost always followed by a severe blow. Sometimes it is an earthquake...sometimes something else.
I hope I am wrong.
(A silly face to take the edge off.)