Tuesday, January 18, 2022

winter 2022

My fun “memo to the unresponsive gods” honors the futility of hoping for extraterrestrial Contact soon.

Saturday, Jan. 13

Confessing a lovely integrity” is a humble vanity about protean aloneness which is creatively happy.

Sunday, January 02, 2022

café transcript on the identity of Art

A problem with autobiography is that detailing the past after many decades is too time consuming: The smallest event can become stories within stories within. And I’ve still got a life to live.

So, given that there’s no perfect beginning—certainly not beginning with childhood—“In The Beginning... Once upon a time...”—I’ll just recall something that suits my mood, whatever the day.

How it all hangs together will have to emerge (if at all) somewhere ahead.

Friday, December 31, 2021

avoiding autobiography

I have no idea how many letters and emails I’ve done that contain passages which could be usefully extracted for use elsewhere.

Saturday, December 18, 2021

autumn leaves

Welcome, lovely solitude for longer, easier work times, since the college kids (undergrads) are gone from neighborhood ambiance for a whole month.

Dec. 16

Days go by… “saga of crafting life” (below) resulted from dwelling with a singer’s particular song which was evidently in the wake of a broken love. My non sequiturs respond to specific points in her song.

My occasioned posting on Heidegger, “engaged being,“ coincidently complements my above pretense of sagacity.