Sunday Scrapbag

Reading: Oh, several things. In the Office of Readings (Liturgy of the Hours), lately I've been substituting the prescribed second readings with passages from Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI's encyclical Spe Salvi. I'm ashamed to say that this will be the first papal encyclical I will have read straight through, all the way through. Always before, I've only read excerpts of various encyclicals through the Liturgy of the Hours, or in articles and blogs.

     I'm also still reading bits and pieces of Robert Gibbings' books and have begun re-reading Elizabeth Taylor's The Sleeping Beauty which I read many years ago and have completely forgotten. I'm very bad about remembering the plots of books. So if I recommend a novel to someone and they ask me what it's about, I always say, "I forget—but I do remember I absolutely loved it."

     Also, I'm reading through all my journals in search of material for new poems. An enlightening experience.

Watching: I seem to have lost interest temporarily in movies. I own on DVD all the movies I like to watch (the most recent being Quartet, that lovely little film starring Maggie Smith and directed by Dustin Hoffmann). Sometimes (not often, admittedly) I regret having such limited tastes in film; were my tastes broader and more varied, I could watch and enjoy so many more things. But what I don't like in films is pretty much identical to what I don't like in books, which I wrote about in this post. 

     The cheesy part of me is psyched that the new season of Dancing with the Stars is in full swing. Can I just say that, though he seems like a very nice guy, I'm not sorry to see the football player go? I'm so tired of football players winning the DWTS mirror ball trophy! I haven't picked a favorite yet.

Writing: Lately, prose poems. I've written two posts in this past week alone about this new venture in Poetry Land (new for me, that is), this form that I used to despise as being fancified prose or free verse bound up in paragraph form. Now I see its merits as well as its many difficulties. But other than my prose poem experiments and this blog, I haven't been writing anything, not even my journal. Bad, bad girl!

Listening: To the wonderful Romanian pianist Clara Haskil (d. 1960). I tend to go through phases with pianists, concentrating on one for a few weeks, then going back to others before fixating on a "new" one. Haskil is my fixation at the moment. Her Mozart is impeccable in both style and technique. It's the kind of Mozart I myself always wanted to play, the kind I think is "true" Mozart. Poetic, profound, yet not over-sentimentalized as so many contemporary pianists are wont to do. Playful when playfulness is called for, but not overly so. Of course, she played many other composers brilliantly as well.

 

Considering: Cancelling my Tumblr account. I very much enjoy following art and photography blogs, and I enjoy following Catholic blogs on Tumblr. But I got a huge dose of disillusionment and disgust yesterday, when one of the Catholic blogs I follow got hacked and I found a number of pornographic posts on my dashboard. I realize hacking goes on everywhere, but Tumblr seems to be particularly susceptible. Plus which, there's no way (at least that I can find) to delete or hide posts you don't want to see on your dashboard; on Facebook, you can do this, which I really appreciate. When I saw those porn posts on my Tumblr dashboard, all I could do was "unfollow" that particular blogger until he realized he'd been hacked and cleaned out all those offensive images. But I think I will leave Tumblr altogether. I already follow a lot of Catholic blogs on Blogger and Wordpress anyway, and I follow many art and photography pages on Facebook.







Lately I've Been ...

I swiped this meme from November's Autumn. It's appeared on a few other blogs as well.

 

Lately I've been ...

 

... writing revisions of my new poem, formerly titled "The Language of the Sea," now titled "Amphitrite." I'm still not happy with it, and honestly don't know if it'll work out at all. I might just chuck it into my rejects file and see if, in future, any portion of it can be culled for use in another poem. I've done that a few times, with successful results. Waste not, want not, even when it comes to poetry.

 

... reading In Defense of Sanity: The Best Essays of C. K. Chesterton.  I've not read any Chesterton till now and am loving these essays. What a fertile mind, what an engaging and lucid writer! He is indeed a master essayist, worthy to be placed in the same rank with Johnson, Hazlitt, Addison and Steele, and Lamb, all of whom were recommended by my great "kinsman of the shelf" Helene Hanff, through her book 84, Charing Cross Road.  However, nowhere does Helene mention Chesterton, and if indeed she never read him, she certainly missed out on a great writer. She'd have loved him, I think.

 

... listening quite a lot these days to Schubert's piano sonatas. I owned a score of them for years, contemplating every so often actually studying one or two of them; but for some reason his solo piano music didn't appeal to me. Besides which, much of it lay very awkwardly under my tiny hands. (I have, however, loved and played many of his lieder.) But I recently bought Stephen Hough's CD and upon listening to it, my opinion of Schubert changed completely. I suspect the change is also partly due to age—some music and certain composers are better appreciated, and indeed, better understood, from a more mature viewpoint. Of course, since I have quit the piano altogether, I still won't be playing any Schubert, but I now have the great satisfaction of listening to him. As Hough has written, while Beethoven is overtly passionate, Schubert is more reticent. His passions are glimpsed through a veil, through a partially opened curtain. And though what may be glimpsed is bleak, it is nonetheless intensely moving.

 

... watching—why, Dancing with the Stars,  of course! My mother and I are hooked. Well, she's been hooked a lot longer than I have; I am only a recent convert. I must admit, it's great fun and a nice change of pace from all the cooking shows, House Hunters, and House Hunters International.  Ever since I moved to Houston in 1989, I no longer watch current series, and I know even without sampling an episode that I would absolutely loathe reality shows such as—I don't know, that housewives thing, or whatever. But I genuinely enjoy DWTS.  I doubt, however, I could ever get into American Idol, America's Got Talent, and whatnot, simply because I can't stand most of what passes for singing these days. I am both a dinosaur and a cultural snob. Yep, I am. Call me Niles.

 

... looking pretty bad. Cannot tell a lie; my physical appearance has definitely seen better days.

 

... feeling under the weather. Which is probably why I've been looking bad. I'm just getting over a cold; still feel a bit 'snarfy' in the sinuses. Allergies don't help, either. I am grateful, though, that autumn is here. Summer in Texas is far too long and hot. You'd think I'd be used to that, but the sad truth is, you never  get used to it.

 

... anticipating receiving in the mail the Complete Schubert Sonatas played by Wilhelm Kempff. Yes, this dinosaur still listens to music on CDs, and sometimes even on vinyl. I had a hard time deciding between Kempff and Brendel, but ultimately went with Kempff. I'll probably get Brendel later on. The thing about classical music, including opera, is that you can't just listen to one artist performing any one piece. In order to appreciate a piece properly, you have to listen to as many interpreters of it as possible. Otherwise, you're not appreciating the piece of music itself; you're appreciating one person's interpretation.

 

... wishing oh, so many things! I wish I could go to Italy again. I wish I could go to England again. I wish I could write a poem without ripping my brain and the poem to shreds. I wish I could write a poem, period. I wish my hair would stop falling out onto the bathroom floor.

 

... loving being able to listen to piano music again without feeling that invisible knife twist in my gut. And in case you're thinking, "Well, why don't you write a poem about that?"—fact is, I already did.