Below you will find a mixture of prose, poetry, random thoughts and a variety of images including some of my favorite music videos. Click on the triple lines in the upper right corner for more information on this blog. And most of all enjoy!
All works are Copyright 2008-2016 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.
time that we hold sovereign.
every mystery peaking at dusk.
who we love, not only desire.
Immense, untrammeled spaces
tell us nothing: what is, was,
may yet be.
My world wraps tightly around me.
Via Roy Edroso, I found this interesting bit of commentary on the art of writing from novelist Raymond Chandler:
What do I do with myself from day to day? I write when I can and I don’t write when I can’t; always in the morning or the early part of the day. . . . I’m always seeing little pieces by writers about how they don’t wait for inspiration; they just sit down at their little desks at eight, rain or shine, hangover and broken arm and all, and bang out their little stint. However blank their minds or dim their wits, no nonsense about inspiration for them. I offer them my admiration and take care to avoid their books. Me, I wait for inspiration, though I don’t necessarily call it by that name. . . . The important thing is that there should be a space of time, four hours a day at least, when a professional writer doesn’t do anything else but write. He doesn’t have to write, and if he doesn’t feel like it, he shouldn’t try. . . . Two very simple rules, a. you don’t have to write. b. you can’t do anything else. The rest comes of itself.
This is quite the interesting thesis. Though many of us don’t quite have the luxury of four hours a day, does it make sense to set time aside only for writing (whether you produce anything or not?) I wonder how many people operate this way.
Here are a couple of really good songs which both happen to share a title. The first is Ryan Adams covering a Taylor Swift song. The second is by an up-and-coming hard rock band called ForeverAtLast. Enjoy!
This pretty much sums up the Progressive mindset these days:
When all the shadows flee their markers
and your only fear is of standing still,
the tired roads relent: dust and parting.
The whole world becomes the only path . . .
Do not doubt yourself (as they do),
for that rope will slip around your defenses
but won’t catch you flying . . .
Charlie Pierce has articulated the ethos of Senator Elizabeth Warren in a most elegant and mirthful fashion:
She’s a nice lady who used to be the Cookie Mom for a Girl Scout troop. She also knows where all the bodies are buried and who hid the shovel.
If that’s not a recipe for success, what is?
I envy those who love,
Have contempt for those who love me.
. . . joy, aloof as the horizon.
Me my my me my.
Introversion empties into
Nowhere . . .