Tag Archives: 2022

There’s a third evergreen again

There’s a third evergreen again along edge of [neighbor’s] yard and ours. A second tree had died there last year, and I noticed just yesterday that there’s a new tree there. TV doesn’t work this morning. I got up with cat about 5:30 (bed about 11 p.m.) and went back to bed but got up about 5:50 (I hear bird songs, a  “chop chop chop” song — a cardinal’s?) and … walked dog aprox. 6:45 to 7:30 and then made tea and streched and here I am. I didn’t make dinner last night — after late diner breakfast, I ate a cheese sandwich, half of an apple (golden delicious) M didn’t want to finish, tortilla chips left over from the night before’s Mexican take-out, and chocolate chips. And I ate popcorn as we watched La Belle et la Bête, the 1991 Disney. It was on TV but TV signal just quit — the screen went black, cable went out — and I put in DVD and we watched it, mostly in French, and then I put in Hello, Dolly! DVD (we don’t watch that many DVDs but maybe we will if cable’s out. Still, though, we pay nearly $10/day ($260 lately each month) for cable TV and [Internet service] modem and I couldn’t get the modem to work yesterday p.m.

[From journal of Sun., 1 May 2022, Journal 360, page 236-7]

How boring to write things that did or could happen: January notes

¶ Driving today, I heard NPR’s ATC introduce someone by saying they had made a movie (or, according to ATC rundown, “his latest film“) — the sense I got was that making a film was a dull act, a commercial act — completing a marketable-length work. It made me all the more eager to make noncommercial-length works! And maybe, it made me want to not even finish artworks! [6 Jan. 2022]

¶ Do I write like I am? Probably not — I may see or say more problems when I write. I might be more gentle in person. Or maybe not. [7 Jan.]

Justice Cat in our Christmas tree, 1 Jan. 2022.

C. Lindy told me my yearbook, the first one I’d been responsible for as advisor, looked like a yearbook. He was unimpressed. But he was sick. I felt disappointed, but today, years later, I realized that he was telling me that when you’re sick, not much else matters. What good is philosophy when you’re losing your mind? Or when you have moods? (Even mild moods? Rational philosophy doesn’t help much when we’re animals (partly, of course, but also fundamentally, we’re animals, we’re bodies)). Nietzsche left Basel in 1876-1877, so 32-33 years old. In Jan. 1889, Nietzsche collapsed, got demented — age 44 (maybe had a brain cancer, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy says). My point is, sure, do what you can while you live — and yet, all that philosophy did him no good once he lost his mind. So I think philosophy might not offer the full/holistic aspect (to our animal and mental natures)that, say, poetry does? Music? Something else that’s not fully rational?

¶ My writings and my favorite writings (by others?) as slippery spots, showing you things aren’t as solid as you might think. [13 Jan. 2022]

¶ Cobbler experiences the making of the shoes. I wrote in journal this morning the idea that cobbling (or any act of creation or doing) involves certain movements, acts, that the cobbler learned over time/practice and may not be aware of doing and so wouldn’t tell others he’s doing them. But the shoemaker has the experience of making the shoe (as cook has the experience of making food, as writers have of making texts). The wearer/eater/reader (customer) has the experience of wearing, eating, and reading. A maker isn’t just making for others — one is having the experience of making. [14 Jan.]

¶ The social aspect of author-voice in texts to others — the urge/motive to convince others and/or defend oneself. Any writing meant for others is caught up in one’s ego with respect to others. Writing for self (in journals, for example) is a way out of that social situation. [14 Jan.]

¶ How boring to write things that did or could happen, experiences I did or could have, when instead writings (like Exquisite Corpse lines, like journal fragments) can instead (and more interestingly) disrupt normal thoughts — not soothe or represent experience but operate at a level to confuse or confront the mind with something new, something that forces a mind out of the familiar ruts of known patterns. This ideas is at least partly inspired by the Hollander essay from yesterday and it connects what I’ve loved about Ex. Corpses with creation of poems and other texts — and does this connect, is this the reading analogue to the freewriting experience of being interrupted by new ideas? And interruption may be the fundamental experience (default setting) of consciousness more than holding a thought is? [14 Jan.]

¶ Publish only what’s weird (in whatever way)! This can be a guideline for me — that I don’t need to publish things that don’t surprise in some way (and, yes, my random journals may still surprise — I’m not sure — even slow-seeming journal bits are OK). But, yeah, Exquisite Corpse-level weirdness as a guideline, a goal? Eh, just publish whatever you want to — I like Thoreau’s journals, as simple as they are. [20 Jan.]

Sunrise on ice-encrusted snow. 9 Jan. 2022.

¶ The things that happen in a life, these surprises — just writing about these makes for interesting narrative? [22 Jan.]

¶ Seeking overlap of who you’re making art for and who’s reading it (me and me, in my recent writings). [31 Jan. 2022]

I called Sam ‘Lampbreaker’

I called Sam “Lampbreaker” (like “Kingslayer” from Game of the Throne) because he seemed to knock over the lamp with the three colored glass shades on the tiny oblong bulbs. Like a sitcom parent, I said, “What now?” exasperatedly when I was on floor to stretch and heard that.

So, yeah, I took notes on pocket page last night after I left mom’s. I didn’t, but slightly regret now, take a pic of the drive lane that heads north from Chana Road at Brick Road — it was in shade, in afternoon light. Ah, well. It’s not like I

M says she “dreamt that my mom got to come back.” “She got a blank slate and got to come back.” I know the science idea (Eagleman?) that we dream to keep visual brain active as we sleep — but why not just show shapes, designs? Why are there plots and characters in our dreams — and, hey, here’s a question: did dreams have plots before we humans had stories, before we had narrative cultural learning? On other hand, I’ve seen the dog whine and twitch his legs while he sleeps. He seems to dream events, not just images. Perhaps my mind is used to processing a world of experience, so it reflects that back to me in dreams. It’s not like my mind works at showing kaleidoscope images.

[From journal of Sat., 29 Jan. 2022, Journal 358, page 80-1]