"I tend to live in a world of miniatures..."

in
When I write, I’m not aware in any kind of way of like, “Oh, this is a long song,” or, “This is movements.” If anything, I’m truly in awe of people who work in larger, scaled projects, someone who does sit down and write a symphony or an opera or a novel. I tend to live in a world of miniatures, so even my biggest work feels like a blink to me. It’s just a tiny little thing that comes and goes and floats away.

Definitely where my thinking has drifted over the last few years. Can remember being in music school as a composition major and envying songwriters because of the immediacy of their craft. Applying that to my own work now as I move forward in efforts at being honest with myself.

randy the chihuahua

in

For longtime readers, you might remember an occasional writing about little Randy the chihuahua, the neighborhood watch commander whose favorite game for the last ten years has been chasing me down the road (and occasionally falling into snowdrifts) on the day's run and biting at my heels (I also named the asshole in my brain Randy in her honor) as I pass her house.

While Randy's still around (both corporeal and mental - though the latter iteration is FAR FAR FAR less overwhelming than before: it's nice to not hate myself all the time), she's been eight for a long time and is now going blind and not chasing me any more – though she did try: the other day she ran to the driveway when she heard me run past and barked and barked but never saw me. I could still hear her barking half a mile down the road.

And yes, I was as heartbroken by that as you probably are. I'll miss that little shit when the time comes.

Angles – A MUTED REALITY

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A dynamic sonic exploration that sways from reflective quiet to explosive propulsion and brings to mind (apologies here in comparing something wholly original to something else – Angles really are their own beautiful cocktail – but my music review skills are a still little rusty; working on that by writing more about music here) The Necks – if they were playing in a New Orleans second line. I've listened to it three times today – and could listen to it thrice more. So good.

“… and can’t dislodge them, for lack of the right rhythm…”

in
“Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can’t use the wrong words. But on the other hand here I am sitting after half the morning, crammed with ideas, and visions, and so on, and can’t dislodge them, for lack of the right rhythm. Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in the mind, long before it makes words to fit it.”

Re-posting because this is so very, very relevant to where I'm finding myself in The Work this morning, starting and ending the month in the same place, apparently...