Any aspiring professional willing to take writing advice from E.L. James is an idiot. Although her bank account is inspirational, her ability is not. The opposite direction is this way. —————> You are welcome.
E.L. James’ ‘Shades of Grey: Inner Goddess’: a writer’s journal [courtesy Los Angeles Times Books]
Morning view.
That is snow on the roof of the low building above the truck. It was 70 degrees just 3 days ago.
An inadequate but satisfying breakfast.
When it is cold I could stay in bed all day. This morning, the siren’s call of the electric kettle was too strong.
“You will be successful in your career.”
The universe is obviously trying to tell me something, in the form of this dark chocolate orange fortune cookie. The message? “Get to work, you lazy woman.”
“Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”-Confucius
“I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.”-Jerome K. Jerome
“Out of clutter, find simplicity.”-Albert Einstein
“Hide not your talents, they for use were made,
What’s a sundial in the shade?”-Benjamin Franklin
Take Your Choice, 1885, by John F. Peto. (In the collection of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.)
Take Your Choice, 1885, by John F. Peto.
Oh, Jean-Louis. You problematic, magnetic SOB. Ninety-one years to the day after your birth, and we-the writers, readers, and open souls of the world-still cannot escape your torturous orbit. As for me: my heart is willing, but my mind is not quite able to sprint the final few yards into your embrace. I promise to try again, like I always do. You know how it goes. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s not me, it’s you. It’s the two of us, together. I love you and hate you and love-hate-hate-love you. This dance we do will never end; the steps and the rhythm will change, but the tune will echo to eternity. Until next time.
Love and kisses and shrugs,
Maedez
On the Road
“I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.”-Jack Kerouac, On the Road
Lord Byron Quote
Robert Benchley was a writer-humorist-actor who was a founding member of the Algonquin Round Table. In this clip, he proves (from the grave) that although the technology we use to document our daily lives has changed, not much else has.
Only very special books live on the shelf above the desk in my studio. I am about to start reading Hung in the Middle, a memoir by my dear friend Alana Nicole Sholar. Methinks she is in good company.
Hung in the Middle
Never forget: Zelda had a gift for words, too. Muses aren’t always mute.
Zelda Fitzgerald Quote Poster
“The slivers of artistic vision which she was able to develop reveal a singular sensibility, her raw ability yielding under a surprisingly effective command. Zelda Fitzgerald is, possibly, best known as the ultimate liver of life, a rare talent at which she excelled with panache, humour, and fortitude. She was also a creator of things beautiful, witty, complex, and sensual. How much was left unrealized, we will never know: that answer died with her in a sanitarium fire, on 10 March 1948.
The greatest work of art that it is in our limited power to create is that which we salvage, fashion, and edit from the raw material of our lives. Zelda Fitzgerald, in potential and adversity, made much of what she was given, as a human being and as an artist.”-from Zelda: The Other Fitzgerald, by Alicia Austen
Welcome to CAMPy WASHINGTON, where humor is a matter of civic pride.
Here’s George Washington, all dolled up to keep watch over the fine citizens of this urban neighborhood. He’s attended by Cincinnati’s famous flying pigs and a docile cow.
The purple gorilla and old-timey robot aren’t just mural stars: they have real life counterparts, statues that are an integral part of our local identity.
George is ready for his close-up.
The mural sits right off the highway, and is visible to random people filling their tanks at two gas stations. Although it doubtless makes them smile, its real importance is in brightening the lives of local residents who spend their days looking at manufacturing warehouses and crumbling 19th century brick buildings. In a neighborhood so far off the radar as to lack even the condescending appellation “up and coming”, public art really does make a difference.
Today my muses are spread so far across the map that there really is no map. Yay for eclectic inspiration. Enjoy!
I cannot get enough of John Grant’s new song, Pale Green Ghosts. It is the soundtrack for my packed writing weekend.
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 