AMBITIONS: to develop a widespread readership aka bestseller; also, revive the Society of Friends
ONE DAY: to be influential and famous
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
AMBITIONS: to develop a widespread readership aka bestseller; also, revive the Society of Friends
ONE DAY: to be influential and famous
For me, this is something other than thanks-giving. Its part of an annual exercise and self-discipline that includes revisiting what I set out to do a year ago and seeing what was accomplished and what remains to address. Other parts simply acknowledge joys and blessings. It rather dovetails into sending out the Christmas greetings, too.
In 2024, I’m especially grateful for:
1
My own world was fracturing
when glacier-clad Mount Saint Helens erupted
and sent me in exile
to here
at the easternmost fringe of the nation
forty years later
2
As a friend said
the other day
of piloting a warship
and noting
no seals
on their familiar outcropping
indicating
a shark
on the prowl in the waters
3
In my case
a starched white-shirted shark
had invaded
To continue the writing advice from last week, here are ten more points:
These perspectives apply to far more than NaNoWriMo, but they just might give a needed push to those of you trying to get a novel written within this month.
Bad decisions can have long-lasting consequences.
One here in Maine was the application of industrial sludge containing PFAS to nearby farmlands. At the time, it was touted as form of recycling. Today, you don’t dare drink water drawn from the wells.
The problem’s not unique to Maine.
Here’s the take.
Injustice of all sorts. Whiny diatribes and mud-slinging, character assassination.
TV/Rock obsession. Illiteracy. Consumerism.
Loud sound systems in cars. Drivers who think they bought the highway. Drivers who ignore changing lights.
Clutter and pollution.
Senseless regulations, corporate, not just governmental, let’s be fair.
Being put on hold while I’m present in a store.
Presumptuous artists.
The super-rich.
Country roads sometimes carry imaginative monikers.
Here are some ones that stand out in my encounters:
For him, that also shook up the universe.
The 150th anniversary of the birth of the American maverick takes place Sunday, the 20th, and despite his relative obscurity, he was a giant as an uncompromising modernist classical composer and as an innovative executive in the insurance industry.
Born in Connecticut and a graduate of Yale, Charles Ives’ musical transformation was certainly one of the most extraordinary cases in history, made all the more remarkable by the fact that he was forced to compose largely without hearing many of his adventurous works played by an orchestra or soloists until a half-century or more after their composition. Even the sonatas, songs, and chamber music suffered from widespread neglect.
As a matter of confession, I am quite fond of his music, from the wonderfully rich late-Romantic scores of his youth to the craggy, thorny modernist fireworks of only a few years later. I am among those who feel scandalized by the fact that this season orchestras aren’t playing even one of his symphonies in celebration, much less all four. Two of them did win Pulitzers, by the way, once they were finally aired, and riotous cheers often break out at the conclusion when the works are performed.
For a biographical overview of this American original, turn to my post, “Thoughts while listening to Charles Ives,” of November 5, 2013, at my blog, Chicken Farmer I still love you.
Today, I’m offering a Double Tendrils. Let’s start with ten quotations about music.
~*~
And here are ten Ives quotes about life itself.
Living adjacent to the tribe’s Sipayik reservation opens new perspectives in my awareness. It’s not quite osmosis, but perhaps a willingness to listen.
One of the big breakthroughs for the tribe has involved access to 36 wax cylinders from 1890, the first field recordings ever made, when anthropologist Walter Jesse Fewkes came to Maine to test the Edison equipment before he headed off to Navajo and Hopi lands.
For decades, the recordings were kept in museum vaults, unknown to the tribe. And then, slowly, they came into consciousness, first through taped copies full of scratchy static and more recently cleaned up into digitalized files that tribe historians are carefully gleaning.
As a writer, I believe in the power of stories and the importance of language itself.
Here are some of the insights I’m hearing from my neighbors.