Bubba
My comments section is barren these days.
"Butch" is on vacation and "Anomann" is in town with his very lovely girlfriend who is staying with us.
She is out in der garten as we speak, helping my wife rip innocent plant material out of the ground simply because of it's social status.*
Physical labor, yuck!
So I am pleased that "Bubba" left me an encouraging comment.
Although, after years of practicing "courage" I am left with the impression that it is a virtue (if it can be so called) better left to others.
I mean, when you think of it, courage is only needed when the odds are against.
So, therefore, it is unlikely to lead to much success.
Like lottery players, only the names of the winners are published
Perserverance, on the other hand does seem to have some practical value.
But, on further reflection, it seems to fail tautologically. I mean, how do you not persevere?
Suicide?
That's just what the bastards want.
Hamlet addressed this question a few years ago in a whiny, navel-gazeing letter to the editor. As I recall, he never got a sufficiently useful answer.
Wasn't Derick Jacoby brilliant as Claudius?
They might as well rename the Branaugh version "What's a stepfather do do anyway?".
So... I continue, continue being a milder form of perseverance more suitable to my age and delicate constitution.
I continue with my wrestling match with the muse, "Melodia", or perhaps that's "Harmonica", I never can remember, maybe it's "Saxophonia".
Unfortunately, I also continue my relationship with that other muse "Erratica"
I continue with my rightous indignation about the Symphony's low class treatment of petite moi, "rightous" being a synonym for "usless".
On another front, getting back to John Adams et Le chien Soho, I was reminded in his comments section of the old saying "there is a divinity that shapes our ends".
I was ready to push the fateful "send" button on the following;
"Does this divinity make my end look fat?", when discretion raised it's ugly head and I refrained.
I hope Soho appreciates the courtesy.
Remember children, "neither a borrower nor a lender be".
Steal it and keep it.
*"weeds"
P.S.
Tone clusters, or chords, that contain seconds are not strictly horizontal on the page.
The notes are offset a bit because they are so close together.
In a greater sense, aren't we all?
Offset a bit because we are......never mind.
"Butch" is on vacation and "Anomann" is in town with his very lovely girlfriend who is staying with us.
She is out in der garten as we speak, helping my wife rip innocent plant material out of the ground simply because of it's social status.*
Physical labor, yuck!
So I am pleased that "Bubba" left me an encouraging comment.
Although, after years of practicing "courage" I am left with the impression that it is a virtue (if it can be so called) better left to others.
I mean, when you think of it, courage is only needed when the odds are against.
So, therefore, it is unlikely to lead to much success.
Like lottery players, only the names of the winners are published
Perserverance, on the other hand does seem to have some practical value.
But, on further reflection, it seems to fail tautologically. I mean, how do you not persevere?
Suicide?
That's just what the bastards want.
Hamlet addressed this question a few years ago in a whiny, navel-gazeing letter to the editor. As I recall, he never got a sufficiently useful answer.
Wasn't Derick Jacoby brilliant as Claudius?
They might as well rename the Branaugh version "What's a stepfather do do anyway?".
So... I continue, continue being a milder form of perseverance more suitable to my age and delicate constitution.
I continue with my wrestling match with the muse, "Melodia", or perhaps that's "Harmonica", I never can remember, maybe it's "Saxophonia".
Unfortunately, I also continue my relationship with that other muse "Erratica"
I continue with my rightous indignation about the Symphony's low class treatment of petite moi, "rightous" being a synonym for "usless".
On another front, getting back to John Adams et Le chien Soho, I was reminded in his comments section of the old saying "there is a divinity that shapes our ends".
I was ready to push the fateful "send" button on the following;
"Does this divinity make my end look fat?", when discretion raised it's ugly head and I refrained.
I hope Soho appreciates the courtesy.
Remember children, "neither a borrower nor a lender be".
Steal it and keep it.
*"weeds"
P.S.
Tone clusters, or chords, that contain seconds are not strictly horizontal on the page.
The notes are offset a bit because they are so close together.
In a greater sense, aren't we all?
Offset a bit because we are......never mind.
posted by Lane Savant at 9:56 AM
3 Comments:
Dang it. I wasn't going to get into this blogging thing but your comments and my nodding familiarity with your work to say nothing of not wanting to go to the office today compel me.
re courage:
yeah I'm inclined to think of that as either a form of ignorance (like a patients' disregard for symtoms) or matrydom. Martyrs have no future. So for some the trick may be when to perservere with what idea. My romantic notion, that some sophisticate is bound to dash someday, is that if the concept springs from some undamaged part of the heart its worth the continued effort.
Outsiders witnessing such perserverance are quick to label it: "courage" , "atonal", 'jeez', "plaid", etc. I'm even ok with some of that as a time saver if it can be done without mean spritedness. These are fractious times.
my opinion dept:
One does NOT perservere by not paying attention to ones needs and adopting some sort of party line in its stead; like the drones at the office. Unless one equates perserverance with survival. This malcontent is not satisfied with mere survival. This too is 'what the bastards want'. Dead people are profitable and you don't have to kill them quickly to make a buck.
And YES only the names of the winners are published but that puts the spotlight on what the definition of success is. Here we have one of the ripest areas for revisionism ever. hmmm. insert something about why I like music here...
You like music because it is like a massage for the mind and for the soul.
Just letting the stuff flow through you connects you with the trus wonder that is your own life.
Performing and writing the stuff is like an adventure without the poisonous insects.
Or, maybe it just gets you hot.
True wonder, trus has nothing to do with it
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