May 2012

Goodbye, Duck

By in The Blues Brothers 3 Comments

Did you hear that bassist Donald “Duck” Dunn died in his sleep Monday at the age of 70? He was, of course, the long-time bassist for Booker T and the MGs; but I got to know him from The Blues Brothers (of course). Here he is in the white t-shirt, with the pipe:
You can hear more clips from his most famous performances here. 

Tuesday Project Roundup: Look!!

By in sewing, Tuesday Project Roundup 1 Comment

I think the title deserves two exclamation points, because the fact that I had a few hours to work on this tunic is nothing short of amazing. 
It’s not quite done yet–it needs a collar and a hem and some topstitching–but I’d forgotten how much I can get done when I have the Fortress of Solitude back to myself.

Hippie Poem Wednesday

By in poems

This hippie poem appeared on The Writer’s Almanac today, which gives it far more poetical credibility than coming from, say,  a site with the name of Mystic Mamma. It’s by Joy Harjo, whose birthday is today.
Eagle Poem
To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon, within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

Sunday Night Conversations: The Right Word

By in Sunday Night Conversations

Here’s some advice about word choice, as given out by my best friend last night:

“I watched The Universe last night and they were describing things like the scale of our solar system and the speed of light. And that’s the time to use the word “awesome”–not when someone refills the ice in your water.”

Thursday Poem

By in poems

The opera last night reminded me of this poem. It’s not really about opera, though. 
After Love
Jack Gilbert
 
He is watching the music with his eyes closed.
Hearing the piano like a man moving
through the woods thinking by feeling.
The orchestra up in the trees, the heart below,
step by step. The music hurrying sometimes,
but always returning to quiet, like the man
remembering and hoping. It is a thing in us,
mostly unnoticed. There is somehow a pleasure
in the loss. In the yearning. The pain
going this way and that. Never again.
Never bodied again. Again the never.
Slowly. No undergrowth. Almost leaving.
A humming beauty in the silence.
The having been. Having had. And the man
knowing all of him will come to the end.
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