I do not often try to sit and write about a book, and surely not about one that I have just begun. I have sat down to listen to the story Angle of Repose, by Wallace Stegner, as told by Lyman Ward. Rarely do I feel so entrenched and thoroughly taken by a narrator’s voice but I find that listening to Ward is like listening to my own grandfather. That I am immediately filed with quiet; the cold from outdoors seeps around all window sills, between the jambs of doors, and fills me with autumn in that pulling back through time. No matter how clichéd the idea of fall’s nostalgia, I bear witness to the fact that autumn bears only history, where spring carries only promise. And there is that presence of quiet; of time’s motion while walking through snowed in fields, of that very smell that ice has(which I thought I caught on the air two nights ago), the very consonance of being in this world and this life so soaked in history.

“Before I can say I am, I was. Heraclitus and I, prophets of flux, know that the flux is composed of parts that imitate and repeat each other. Am or was, I am cumulative, too. I am everything I ever was[...]“

I would protest that, not only are we each everything we ever were, but also all that has ever been. We are gathered up, totaled, and made anew, a unique sum.

Richard Wright has decided to go communist at the end of Blackboy and I am left shaking my head and hoping that it is short lived. A hope I think may not come to bear fruit. I am left to wonder about what may have been accomplished had the thoughts and minds of the people of that era not been consumed with the idea of The People as a single, revolutionary unit. As a teenager I stole a copy of the Communist Manifesto and parked it on the shelf next to Vaneigem’s The Revolution of Everyday Life and remained ignorant to them both, allowing them to collect dust. I was drawn to my idea of Communism, as a people working together communally, but for some reason denied myself the reading of the books that I owned. I may have been tainted by the small bit of knowledge I had on the history of Communism, seeing it as defunct, prone to totalitarianism, and well, just another political party. This is just a small note, about how I always find myself shaking my head when I run face first into this stuff in literature, though, I guess it is bound to happen when you read too much from the early to mid 1900’s.

Home Cooking: Jonah Lehrer

Yup, that smart, cute guy Marina mentioned before. Why do I have to like his writing so much? The section on August Escoffier in Proust Was A Neuroscientist was a fantastic read. Yet to hit the other sections. I picked it up while Marina was checking out a small town library in Maryland. The title caught me, and on inspection of the sections inside it seemed like a good read. I went with the Escoffier essay and loved it. Incidentally, Julie and Julia was a fantastic movie.

I am still waiting on jobs. I heard back form one hospital already with what seemed like a resounding, “No.” The letter they mailed me, though cordial and professional and most certainly a form letter, was post marked two days after my interview and in my mailbox on the third day. Opps. I seem to be up against a wall with the hospitals and I am hoping that once my PA EMT license comes in I can start in with a private company to garner a bit of experience and then give the hospitals another go.

I still waffle a bit on getting advanced degrees in Nursing. The more I see what Marina is doing with library sciences, the more intrigued I am about doing it myself. Spending all day helping people answer great and strange questions, using my limited yet vast surface knowledge to direct people to the right books, who wouldn’t like that? But, I haven’t given the proper or any real chance to nursing, and I still may love it as much as I think I have a chance to, hope so! As a way of assuaging my waffling tendencies and for need of something to do I have started on Amy Hungerford’s open course The American Novel since 1945. Listened to the McCarthy lecture already, and have gone back to start at the beginning, Richard Wright’s Blackboy is the first novel. So far, so good. Also knocking around through Thus Spake Zarathustra(you may notice Spake as opposed to Spoke, mking this a Thomas Common translation. Apparently he wanted to mimic the German biblical-Lutheran by writing the English a la King James. Here to, so far, so good.

Cooking has taken on a life of its own here. I have been doing a lot of it, especially with only Marina working currently. I decided to step out of my comfort zone and take a cookbook out of the library. Not big on those really. Well, bravo Batali, you have taught this New Englander how to make a damn fine basic tomato sauce and I thank you for it. I have been using Cento canned tomatoes and think that they have made a big difference. I am trying the Rienzi packed in tomato puree, being a lover of a ridiculously thick tomato sauce. We made some acorn squash and cashew lasagna with ricotta and pecorino and homemade noodles, damn good. Having made way too much filling we used it for a couple of base sauces, with a couple cloves of garlic sauteed, thyme, parsley, and peas, served over farfalle as a cream sauce. Marina now asks for pasta daily. I call that a win. This week is Greek week and thus far we made an eggplant stuffed savory pie and a greenbean and zucchini soup. Soon, another savory pie, this time with squash. Small note on the pies is that they too, are small. More like an empanada I’m told. Dipped in tzatziki and delicious.

It is fall, and our walks in the woods, deep in with the groaning of the trees and the spill of acorns and hickory nuts from the trees above, makes me smile deep inside.

A sobriquet (pronounced so-brik-ay or so-brik-et) is a nickname or a fancy name.
-Wikipedia

No, a sobriquet is a fancy name for a nickname.

Many know Eadweard Muybridge from his photographs from the 1870s when he took a series of stills to show whether all 4 hooves of a horse leave the ground. Maybe not so known is his trial.

 

In 1874 he discovered a letter written to his wife by a Major Harry Larkyns, apparently her lover. He sought Larkyns out and said, “Good evening, Major, my name is Muybridge and here is the answer to the letter you sent my wife,” punctuating the sentence with a single gunshot, killing the Major.

 

He was put on trial and acquitted as a justifiable homicide.

Gloomy gray afternoon, morning, et al. Normally don’t see many like this here. Tom Waits on the way home, not normally my style but really fit the feel of everything.

Still reading and enjoying Sherman’s memoirs, just finished the battle of Shiloh. Have switched to nursing school and soon enough switching states. Just a small pile of notes today.

 

 

 

 

I am currently working my way through Blood Meridian and really enjoying it. The above photo is of General William Tecumseh Sherman, and damnit all if I am not thinking about heading to the library for his Memoirs. 

 

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At night the air can be beautiful here. The warmth of the breeze is gentle on the arm, the sound of thunder tumbles across skies darkened twice, by night and by cloud, lit by lightning and able to show its contours and depth only in small revelations. In the night there can be a great beauty here.

This will be my forth or fifth reading of this gem. It really does it for me, every time. Nothing holds summer like this one.

I have decided that, despite being neck deep in my EMT book that I needed some fiction in my life. Robinson Jeffers was good but his narrative poems made me want true narratives. Not to mention the impending deadlines and due dates just boil my blood. So, this is my Required un-Required reading list for the 25 days I will have between the end of my EMT program and the beginning of Paramedic school.

Required un-Requireds:

I have wanted to tangle assholes with this one for quite some time. I am yet to find a used copy of it so I may be forced to delve into the libraries copy. I have a serious love/hate thing going on with Cormac and currently I am feeling pretty much 50-50. A yea for All the Pretty Horses and pretty much a ney for Suttree. If not in the library maybe my copy of the Crossing will do.

The one, the only, and needing a serious re-reading. It has been over 2 year.

And last but not least, I have wanted to read this for a spell, and we only just got it a month or so ago.

Granted, this list oughta stretch right out on the visit back to New Hampshire and decent used book stores, but for now, this is a lot to pack into 25 days. Granted I am sneaking in some reading between EMT chapters. Don’t tell nobody.

The specialized fiction section including sci-fi, war, westerns, and Ayn Rand
surrounded by general fiction shelves. These were only moved into their own
spot to try and fit all of our fiction into the bedroom. Also noted is the rogue
unit of Audubon Society Field Guide’s to North American Birds, Trees, Wild-
Flowers and Weather.

Stack of currently and/or want to be readings including The Selected Poetry
of Robinson Jeffers, A History of Reading by Alberto Manguel, Principles of
Economincs textbook by Ben Bernanke, and Chambers Etymology(which I
have really been slacking on posting out of these days).

Not much reading is happening due to large amounts of studying. Busy week complete with riding along with two different city of Davie Fire Rescue stations, 3 tests, and a clinical at the Westside Regional Emergency Room. Keeping busy means being kept from non-required reading!

I guess the reason why I sweat for about 30 minutes after running is that I am dumb enough to run at 2pm with the sun hot and high, forecast telling me it feels like 97°. Trying to shave with the sweat running down your forehead and cheeks isn’t a whole lot of fun. I am unable to really get myself to dedicate enough time to running, or much of any exercise with work and school being the way it is, makes me wonder if these once in a blue moon runs are a waste of time. All I know is my cardio shape is total garbage.

The nocturnes of John Field are alright, sort of the pretty stuff you put on to ignore. A bit blah I guess. Emerson Quartet’s playing of The Art of Fugue is something I’ll be wrestling with for a spell. Shostakovich’s 5th symphony has been a real hit with me lately, as well as Ravel’s String Quartet in F. Looking forward to a long night with the wife!