The era of the brilliant Nabokovs is over. Dmitri died 22 February 2012. He was my age, born in Berlin in 1934 half a year before me. One day when I asked his father about his taste in music, he said he had none; all the musical talents went to his son, Dmitri. The father was very proud of his son and justifiably so.
Burns was a man of the soil and a loyal and often visionary populist, disdainful of the upper and especially royalty-fawning classes which he observed caustically in many poems and prose-writings, and the church with it’s ever-shifting double standards of what was holy and what was not and came from peasant stock but was educated by his fairly benign –for the times- landowner factor who took an interest in his precocious intelligence. [Read More]
raccoons wander the beach after dusk and leave pawprints in the ebb tide
it’s sacred to step through the curled & looping mystic symbols left by children in the sand
The quiet life is about listening and attending to your existence and to that of the universe and spirit around you. It is about stilling the noise enough that you can hear. What you hear will depend on your singular vocation, your calling.
Where others strolled with their buckets of shells, we were dragging leaf bags along, combing the wrack zone, that line of debris where the tide recedes; where all manner of incongruent sea life coalesces. Steve and I shared a passion we never would with anyone else. Steve knew much about how to work kelp and take advantage of its ability to become as leather when wet, and wooden when dried. I followed through with finished products in my own style. [Read More]
In 1984 a bioacoustic researcher was studying whale songs on the west coast. She heard news that four baby elephants were born at the Oregon Zoo, and went to see them. While there she sensed a vibration near the elephant cages. It turned out the animals were using low-frequency sounds to send messages back and forth across the zoo grounds. [More]
Having never before visited, Cannon Beach didn’t conjure images of any kind for me other than sand and waves, which can be very misleading for someone visiting from sunny Southern California, where the waves are bigger, the sand can burn your feet, and everyone runs around half-naked instead of thrice layered.
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.
— Robert Hunter
Not far from here, in a parallel dimension, people are listening to the greatest hits of Zed Whimsy. Come gather round for a little musical testimony.
“Be kind to strangers,
lest they’re angels in disguise.”
verse from Shakespeare and Company song
Offbeat questions arise while minding my bookshop in winter on the Oregon coast. Like — why does our calendar year begin with a month named after a double-headed deity who looks backward and forward at the same time?
The Golden Globes will always hold a special place in my heart. See, I was at the Beverly Hilton as a Production Assistant for the 50th Annual Golden Globes. A night of glory. My first Hollywood job.The first time the curtain fell – or, rather, the screen. You know the one. Between audience and performer. […]