Do You Hobby?

Had a doctor appointment today and the paper-paperwork was mostly a repeat of the fill-this-out-every-time-you-have-an-appointment-digital history except it asked about work history AND

“Do you have any hobbies?”

Now, this was looking for potentially health-threatening exposures, I get it, but I am rather put off by lumping my painting/printing/etc into something called “hobbies”, so I put it down under work stuff – Artist (painting/printing/fiber). Then the doc and I had a chat about that – what kind, no solvents, etc, etc.

It does have me wondering though, “do you have any hobbies?”

Do You Hobby?

Charles Simic, 1938-2023

When you read a nice poem, somebody else’s poem, you become attuned to the words on the page. The language seems so rich, so beautiful, imagination making connections. You do need the reader as a collaborator. There could be other experiences beyond that of course. There might be some thoughts, some ideas emerging out of that, but I think the most basic fundamental thing is to give the reader something pleasurable. – Charles Simic

“Charles Simic, Pulitzer-Winning Poet and U.S. Laureate, Dies at 84” NYTimes obit, outside paywall.

Eyes Fastened with Pins, Poetry Foundation

Midsummer, Rattle 2016

The Vices of the Evening, Rattle 2016

Crepuscular, Poetry Foundation (see here for more)

Will be attempting to send blog posts to Mastodon as well. Let’s see how that goes.

Charles Simic, 1938-2023

January 6, 2023

Two years ago, I sat, like many, watching the insurrection unfold on live television. I’d started out with the intention, like many, to watch this thing called the electoral college do its supposedly boring task and accomplish its part in the peaceful transfer of power.

It was clear that Trump and others had other ideas and plans to make this not happen.

One of the things that stands out in my mind is the camera crew that was stationed on a street corner, really just to provide background images and the odd bit of commentary with the capitol as background. They and others started reporting things like people with guns up in trees and people breaking through lines of police going into the capitol. There came a moment when a couple people started going past this news crew and you could sense that the crew wondered if they were in danger. One asked the people if they had any knowledge about what was going on. Who were they? Where did they come from? The reporter pressed on – do you know you have blood on you? Are you all right?

Whereupon the guy told how he had gone with a group into the Capitol and they had broken a window into the chamber and a woman had started to go through the window and was shot. And the blood was hers. And he told the story like it was out of last week’s news from another city.

Someday I’d love to hear what that news crew and reporter thought about all that. And I’d very much like to thank them for keeping the cameras and sound going so we could hear all that first hand. I was watching on the Washington Post live feed so I assume the crew was theirs or a pool crew. I know that some crews had damage done to their equipment since they were considered “fake news”, but we all got to see what happened, as it happened because they were there.

Because of the Jan. 6 committee we were able to see a lot of other footage from inside the building too and hear a lot of the communications that were going on.

So don’t try to convince me that Trump and the rest of them don’t deserve indictment, a trial and hopefully jail time for trying to take over the United States. We all saw the evidence and many of us watched it live.

January 6, 2023

Happy Birthday J.R.R. Tolkien

And may hope stay with us in the new year:

…the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.

~~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King, Book II, The Land of Shadow.

Happy Birthday J.R.R. Tolkien