I still kind of lost and unmotivated. Writing this daily entry has suddenly become difficult again. If I am not particularly thinking or feeling anything, I must be numb. Musn't I? My back has hurt for a few days, so I am not thoroughly without feeling.
I did some reading today. That Patti Smith book, Just Kids, is really quite a bit better than I expected. Thanks, Stuart and Lili!! I perused a rather strange writing book, Ensouling Language: On the Art of Nonfiction and The Writer's Life. The tone is a bit superior and dictatorial. Buhner is a bit of a know-it-all for a kind of nobody. He quotes Robert Bly A LOT. That should tell you something. (Grain of salt time?) But there are some good bits and I will keep nibbling at the tome until I have to return it to the library.
I leave you with two good quotes included in the book (and there seem to be a few).
A poet is somebody who feels, and who expresses feelings through words. This may sound easy. It isn't. A lot of people think or believe or know they feel—but that's thinking or believing or knowing; not feeling. And poetry is feeling—not knowing or believing or thinking. Almost anybody can learn to think or believe or know, but not a single human can be taught to feel. Why? Because whenever you think or you believe or you know, you're a lot of other people, but the moment you feel, you're nobody but yourself.
— e.e. cummings
Sounds accurate to me.
Beginnings are such delicate times.
— Frank Herbert
I feel as if I am beginning many things again:
- living in my apartment (getting all the way unpacked will be some kind of beginning, even if I have been here for two years);
- letting go of a lover (ready to begin new relationships);
- finding a new career (speaks for itself);
- getting to bed (beginning to get sleepy - it is after 1:31 a.m.).
Best of wishes to you. My day was rather unproductive, which was dangerous, since I have a pile of papers to process. One paper was confused and tended to have really horrible documentation. Once I'd spent an hour on that one, I was ruined for any others and retreated to crossword puzzle and acrostic and a horribly written historical novel by Irving Stone for heaven's sake about Camille Pissarro, for book group. Well, I have only one class to teach tomorrow, so I'll try to blast through all the papers, which I should return on Tuesday. Ensouling language is not a good title.
ReplyDeleteEach day is a new chance. I'd intended to practice music this weekend as I've 2 gigs coming up, and now I've a rehearsal with my trio in 30 minutes that I'm not ready for as the weekend sort of disappeared (company, husband on spring break, daughter painting room, general distraction & lack of energy...). No excuses really, but this afternoon I'm PLANNING on practicing music. Procrastination is a powerful demon (as all my "to-do" stacks well illustrate)! It is, nevertheless a fresh new day.
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