I’ve been up to lots, but not riding much.
Here’s an attempt to give you a visual sense of what I’ve been working on, thinking about, and obsessing over, lately.
Amen, brother. Tonight is Daylight Savings, and I’m so ready to get out there.
In the meantime, I’ve been squirreled away in the basement, riding on my trainer, watching this:
Breaking Bad. Woah.
While I’ve been watching that, I’ve been dreaming at night about this:
And working to understand this, because I’ll be doing one of these:
And writing poems for another Wonderbound performance, too.
Perhaps it would be good to close with this:
by Robert Lowell
Those blessèd structures, plot and rhyme–
why are they no help to me now
I want to make
something imagined, not recalled?
I hear the noise of my own voice:
The painter’s vision is not a lens,
it trembles to caress the light.
But sometimes everything I write
with the threadbare art of my eye
seems a snapshot,
lurid, rapid, garish, grouped,
heightened from life,
yet paralyzed by fact.
Yet why not say what happened?
Pray for the grace of accuracy
Vermeer gave to the sun’s illumination
stealing like the tide across a map
to his girl solid with yearning.
We are poor passing facts,
warned by that to give
each figure in the photograph
his living name.
from Life Studies