Archive for February, 2013

People talk about special providences.

Saturday, February 23rd, 2013
No Gravatar

I believe in the providences, but not in the specialty. I do not believe that God lets the thread of my affairs go for six days, and on the seventh evening takes it up for a moment. The so-called special providences are no exception to the rule—they are common to all men at all moments. But it is a fact that God’s care is more evident in some instances of it than in others to the dim and often bewildered vision of humanity. Upon such instances men seize and call them providences. It is well that they can; but it would be gloriously better if they could believe that the whole matter is one grand providence.

GM
Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood

The Joy of Personality

Saturday, February 16th, 2013
No Gravatar

2 quotes from the following Chambers excerpt stick out to me;

1) There is no joy in personality unless it can create. The joy of an artist is not the fame which his pictures bring him, but that the work is a creation of his personality. The work of Jesus is the creation of saints, He can take the worst most misshapen material and make a saint.

2) …we only want praise when we are not sure of having done well, when we are certain we have done well, we don’t care an atom whether folks praise us or not. (more…)

new song > cold cold girl

Monday, February 11th, 2013
No Gravatar

I was messing with filters and bass synths the other day – and I got this kind of jelly squirting out of the speaker bass effect. Add a slow drum groove at about 65 beats a minute and a vocoder – plus ruminations of a very iffy girl and voila…

. FYI this isn’t the song I am collaborating on, or the 15 I sent to my licensing co last week – just a little shiny something I chased into the underbrush and decided to publish – it has some hair.

a poem by Claudius

Tuesday, February 5th, 2013
No Gravatar

“I am content. In trumpet-tones,
My song, let people know.
And many a mighty man, with throne
And scepter, is not so.
And if he is, I joyful cry,
Why then, he’s just the same as I.

The Mogul’s gold, the Sultan’s show—
His bliss, supreme too soon,
Who, lord of all the world below,
Looked up unto the moon—
I would not pick it up—all that
Is only fit for laughing at.

My motto is—Content with this.
Gold-place—I prize not such.
That which I have, my measure is;
Wise men desire not much.
Men wish and wish, and have their will,
And wish again, as hungry still.

And gold and honor are besides
A very brittle glass;
And Time, in his unresting tides,
Makes all things change and pass;
Turns riches to a beggar’s dole;
Sets glory’s race an infant’s goal.

Be noble—that is more than wealth;
Do right—that’s more than place;
Then in the spirit there is health,
And gladness in the face;
Then thou art with thyself at one,
And, no man hating, fearest none.

I am content. In trumpet-tones,
My song, let people know.
And many a mighty man, with throne
And scepter, is not so.
And if he is, I joyful cry,
Why then, he’s just the same as I.”