Saturday, August 19, 2017
Graduation Day
19 August 2017: "This is the fastest I've walked in four years...I walk like I used to walk." --Robert, who along with his dog Kansas, is part of the Guiding Eyes graduating class of August 2017. Luther is in that class and Amy is up there watching him graduate. I couldn't go, but I am watching the live-stream. It's amazing.
Friday, August 18, 2017
"I cannot live with you"
18 August 2017:
"So We must meet apart –
You there – I – here –
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are – and Prayer –
And that White Sustenance –
Despair – " --Emily Dickinson, "I cannot live with you"
I saw a image just now that reminded me of the last lines of this Dickinson poem. And then I felt like listening to a reading of it and found the one linked below. Sometimes just hearing someone else read a poem can open up new appreciation (for me).
I teach this one in my ENGL 312 class and point out how it's longer than a typical Dickinson poem. But beyond that surface observation, it always captivates me. The lines "And life is over there -- / Behind the shelf" come to mind frequently, too. And the juxtapositions! They culminate in that devastating rhyming pairing: the sustenance that come from "prayer" and "despair," the latter imagined as white, calling to mind manna from heaven. Despair sustains, prayer sustains, but here, at least, that's all they do. Such a complex examination of a love that can't be and can't not be at the same time.
"So We must meet apart –
You there – I – here –
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are – and Prayer –
And that White Sustenance –
Despair – " --Emily Dickinson, "I cannot live with you"
I saw a image just now that reminded me of the last lines of this Dickinson poem. And then I felt like listening to a reading of it and found the one linked below. Sometimes just hearing someone else read a poem can open up new appreciation (for me).
I teach this one in my ENGL 312 class and point out how it's longer than a typical Dickinson poem. But beyond that surface observation, it always captivates me. The lines "And life is over there -- / Behind the shelf" come to mind frequently, too. And the juxtapositions! They culminate in that devastating rhyming pairing: the sustenance that come from "prayer" and "despair," the latter imagined as white, calling to mind manna from heaven. Despair sustains, prayer sustains, but here, at least, that's all they do. Such a complex examination of a love that can't be and can't not be at the same time.
Thursday, August 17, 2017
"Autism Screening Questionnaire — Speech and Language Delay"
17 August 2017: "Against the backdrop of the tree he looks so small." --Oliver De La Paz, "Autism Screening Questionnaire — Speech and Language Delay" (Audio here, too.)
Stumbled across this poem today--from a tweet of this other amazing line: "An insistence muscled and muscled again." It's beautiful and tender and heartbreaking. And it's a master class in what poetry can do.
Stumbled across this poem today--from a tweet of this other amazing line: "An insistence muscled and muscled again." It's beautiful and tender and heartbreaking. And it's a master class in what poetry can do.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Listen to him...
16 August 2017: “Last night I couldn’t sleep at all because president Trump, our president, has literally betrayed the conscience of our country.” --Gianno Caldwell, a Republican policy analyst.
Watch this clip. He is openly weeping by the end. Tell me he's fake news or a snowflake or whatever. He's a black Republican and he's weeping over what the president has said. I find myself joining him every time I think about it. Again, that's all I can say.
Watch this clip. He is openly weeping by the end. Tell me he's fake news or a snowflake or whatever. He's a black Republican and he's weeping over what the president has said. I find myself joining him every time I think about it. Again, that's all I can say.
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
American Icons: Moby-Dick
15 August 2017: "Now that I've read a lot of Melville, I know that it's something he repeats over and over again: that it's better to make a terrible mistake, it's better to make an utter fool of yourself and to risk catastrophe than to be safe as an artist." --Tony Kushner, talking about Herman Melville and Moby-Dick in this episode of Studio 360: American Icons.
I listened to this while mowing the lawn today and a terrific discussion of the book and its power.
I listened to this while mowing the lawn today and a terrific discussion of the book and its power.
Monday, August 14, 2017
A fallen hero...
14 August 2017: "It was important to her to speak up for people that she felt were not being heard, to speak up when injustices were happening." --Susan Bro, mother of Heather Heyer, who died in the home-grown terrorist attack in Charlottesville on Saturday.
It's impossible to stop thinking about what happened in Charlottesville. That's really all I can say about it tonight without going on a sad rant.
It's impossible to stop thinking about what happened in Charlottesville. That's really all I can say about it tonight without going on a sad rant.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Orphan Black finale
13 August 2017: “I survived you. We survived you. Me and my sisters, together. This is evolution." --Sarah to Westmorland, in the Orphan Black finale, a moment that made me cheer. Farewell to a great show. Can't wait to see what Tatiana Maslany does next...
Birthday baseball!
12 August 2017: "Play ball!" --A little-leaguer who got to say the iconic words at about 10:10 or so, after a long rain delay at last night's Nationals game. Eric arranged for Erin and I to go, getting these super-sweet Diamond Club tickets.
The game, even with the delay, capped off a great day and a wonderful couple of days of birthday celebrating.
The game, even with the delay, capped off a great day and a wonderful couple of days of birthday celebrating.
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Pre-birthday celebration...
11 August 2017: "It is gah-luh or gay-luh?" --lots of us, gathered at my house last night, trying to decide on a correct pronunciation. We never arrived at a consensus.
I don't like making a big deal out of myself for my birthday, but as #40 approached, I thought it would be fun to have some of my favorite people over to eat pizza and just hang out a bit. And it was amazing. I said this to Jane after everyone else left last night: one of the great and almost miraculous facts of my life is that at every stage of it, I have met wonderful people who I have been fortunate enough to call my friends. Having a bunch of them in the same room--sitting there and listening to them talk and laugh--just made me so very grateful.
I don't like making a big deal out of myself for my birthday, but as #40 approached, I thought it would be fun to have some of my favorite people over to eat pizza and just hang out a bit. And it was amazing. I said this to Jane after everyone else left last night: one of the great and almost miraculous facts of my life is that at every stage of it, I have met wonderful people who I have been fortunate enough to call my friends. Having a bunch of them in the same room--sitting there and listening to them talk and laugh--just made me so very grateful.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
An early hero of the resistance...
10 August 2017: "I don't feel like I would have been doing my job to have done anything other than that." --Sally Yates, explaining why she ordered the Justice Department not to defend the travel ban.
In the craziness of the months since Sally Yates emerged as a hero, so much has happened that might forget her actions. It seems like years ago, not months ago. But this little video was a nice reminder of who she is, what she did, and why it matters.
In the craziness of the months since Sally Yates emerged as a hero, so much has happened that might forget her actions. It seems like years ago, not months ago. But this little video was a nice reminder of who she is, what she did, and why it matters.
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
"Between the Lines"
9 August 2017: “So I've learned to listen through silence.” –Sara Bareilles, “Between the Lines”
A quiet day here, one split between two very different sets of activities. The morning was more physical: a long walk and then yard work galore. The afternoon/evening: preparing PowerPoint presentations for my Bible as Literature class. Regardless, I have spent a lot of time in my own head space.
The line above, from yet another Sara Bareilles song (is she secretly one of my favorites of all time now, without me even realizing it?), stood out to me today because A) it fits my blog theme for the year and B) it is a kind of (not necessarily easy) answer to some big questions I have been wondering about. It’s almost a cliché, I know, but what you don’t hear speaks volumes. That’s good and probably quite healthy to remember, realize, and admit.
Now back to those thrilling PowerPoints I go…
A quiet day here, one split between two very different sets of activities. The morning was more physical: a long walk and then yard work galore. The afternoon/evening: preparing PowerPoint presentations for my Bible as Literature class. Regardless, I have spent a lot of time in my own head space.
The line above, from yet another Sara Bareilles song (is she secretly one of my favorites of all time now, without me even realizing it?), stood out to me today because A) it fits my blog theme for the year and B) it is a kind of (not necessarily easy) answer to some big questions I have been wondering about. It’s almost a cliché, I know, but what you don’t hear speaks volumes. That’s good and probably quite healthy to remember, realize, and admit.
Now back to those thrilling PowerPoints I go…
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
"Answering Machine"
8 August 2017:
"Try and breathe some life into a letter.
Losing hope, we'll never be together.
My courage is at its peak.
You know what I mean.
How do you say you're okay
To an answering machine?
How do you say goodnight
To an answering machine?" --The Replacements, "Answering Machine"
I am studying for a very strange theme round for this week's trivia game and this song factors in. I kind of dig it: working your way up to saying something big (even writing it down first--that's a classic move I would make)...and then getting the machine? Awful.
"Try and breathe some life into a letter.
Losing hope, we'll never be together.
My courage is at its peak.
You know what I mean.
How do you say you're okay
To an answering machine?
How do you say goodnight
To an answering machine?" --The Replacements, "Answering Machine"
I am studying for a very strange theme round for this week's trivia game and this song factors in. I kind of dig it: working your way up to saying something big (even writing it down first--that's a classic move I would make)...and then getting the machine? Awful.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Apples and a science lesson...
7 August 2017: "We're collecting hemolymph..." --Sneha, my friend Carol's research assistant, explaining what they were up to when I stopped by her lab today.
I was at the lab to pick up some home-grown apples that Carol brought in for me, but I stuck around a bit longer than I might have because I really wanted to get a sense of what they were up to. It is kind of amazing how segregated faculty can get into their own disciplines, not really knowing what our peers are up to. By the end of my brief visit, I had a layman's understanding of what they were doing: These little snails are all being raised with differing levels of exposure to a pesticide. Carol and her assistant periodically startle the snails into secreting the hemolymph and then analyze the secretions for hormone levels. Sounds pretty cool, right?
I was at the lab to pick up some home-grown apples that Carol brought in for me, but I stuck around a bit longer than I might have because I really wanted to get a sense of what they were up to. It is kind of amazing how segregated faculty can get into their own disciplines, not really knowing what our peers are up to. By the end of my brief visit, I had a layman's understanding of what they were doing: These little snails are all being raised with differing levels of exposure to a pesticide. Carol and her assistant periodically startle the snails into secreting the hemolymph and then analyze the secretions for hormone levels. Sounds pretty cool, right?
Sunday, August 6, 2017
"Rain on Tin"
6 August 2017:
"As I dream of the rain’s long body,
I will eliminate from mind all the qualities that rain deletes
and then I will be primed to study rain’s power,
the first drops lightly hallowing,
but now and again a great gallop of the horse of rain
or an explosion of orange-green light.
A simple radiance, it requires no discipline.
Before I knew women, I knew the lonely pleasures of rain.
The mist and then the clearing.
I will listen where the lightning thrills the rooster up a willow,
and my whole life flowing
until I have no choice, only the rain,
and I step into it." --from "Rain on Tin," by Rodney Jones (audio version here)
Just listened to this poem tonight, as a light rain falls, and as more rain is forecast for tomorrow. I love the descriptions here. Twice in the poem Jones compares his feelings for the rain for his feelings for women, which is interesting and a bit ridiculous--and I mean this in a good way. In fact, if you listen to the audio version where he reads it, he even calls the poem "idiotic," which made me laugh.
"As I dream of the rain’s long body,
I will eliminate from mind all the qualities that rain deletes
and then I will be primed to study rain’s power,
the first drops lightly hallowing,
but now and again a great gallop of the horse of rain
or an explosion of orange-green light.
A simple radiance, it requires no discipline.
Before I knew women, I knew the lonely pleasures of rain.
The mist and then the clearing.
I will listen where the lightning thrills the rooster up a willow,
and my whole life flowing
until I have no choice, only the rain,
and I step into it." --from "Rain on Tin," by Rodney Jones (audio version here)
Just listened to this poem tonight, as a light rain falls, and as more rain is forecast for tomorrow. I love the descriptions here. Twice in the poem Jones compares his feelings for the rain for his feelings for women, which is interesting and a bit ridiculous--and I mean this in a good way. In fact, if you listen to the audio version where he reads it, he even calls the poem "idiotic," which made me laugh.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
"Big Time"
5 August 2017:
"I play guitar and I sing my songs in the sunshine.
Captain and Cokes and barroom jokes keep me feeling fine.
And there's always a stage and a beautiful babe to squeeze my lime.
In my simple way, guess you can say I'm living in the big time." --Big & Rich, "Big Time"
I loved this song when it came out back in 2005. Especially that summer after I finished my dissertation, I spent a lot of time driving around listening to it. That was a strange time for me--finishing up graduate school, being on the job market, and realizing that my life was about to change. And I didn't have all that much control over what (or, more accurately where) would come next.
I remember finding a kind of fun comfort in "Big Time," especially its chorus, which just happily asserts that things will be okay and that living in the "big time" is relative. They are singing about their music careers, of course, but the parallel seemed clear to me. I Because even then--when I was dreading being on my own again in new place and having to start all over again, when so many of my friends and peers had different kinds of lives at that point--I kind of always knew that I was okay not having lots of money or having a life that looked more traditional. If I could get a job--a big if, because the job market was and is terrible---I would always be okay because I would be doing what I loved.
Anyway, I don't think I had listened to this song in years before tonight, as I played it while driving home from a fundraiser for a local theater. I had just spent a few hours hanging out with friends and meeting some great new people. It was a lovely and cool summer night, not quite dark yet. The car windows were open and I sang along, just like I had done so many times twelve years ago. I don't "play guitar" or "sing my songs in the sunshine," and no one is squeezing my limes (ha!), but basically, it's pretty close. Living in the big time time, indeed.
"I play guitar and I sing my songs in the sunshine.
Captain and Cokes and barroom jokes keep me feeling fine.
And there's always a stage and a beautiful babe to squeeze my lime.
In my simple way, guess you can say I'm living in the big time." --Big & Rich, "Big Time"
I loved this song when it came out back in 2005. Especially that summer after I finished my dissertation, I spent a lot of time driving around listening to it. That was a strange time for me--finishing up graduate school, being on the job market, and realizing that my life was about to change. And I didn't have all that much control over what (or, more accurately where) would come next.
I remember finding a kind of fun comfort in "Big Time," especially its chorus, which just happily asserts that things will be okay and that living in the "big time" is relative. They are singing about their music careers, of course, but the parallel seemed clear to me. I Because even then--when I was dreading being on my own again in new place and having to start all over again, when so many of my friends and peers had different kinds of lives at that point--I kind of always knew that I was okay not having lots of money or having a life that looked more traditional. If I could get a job--a big if, because the job market was and is terrible---I would always be okay because I would be doing what I loved.
Anyway, I don't think I had listened to this song in years before tonight, as I played it while driving home from a fundraiser for a local theater. I had just spent a few hours hanging out with friends and meeting some great new people. It was a lovely and cool summer night, not quite dark yet. The car windows were open and I sang along, just like I had done so many times twelve years ago. I don't "play guitar" or "sing my songs in the sunshine," and no one is squeezing my limes (ha!), but basically, it's pretty close. Living in the big time time, indeed.
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