Let me say this before rain becomes a utility that they can plan and distribute for money. By "they" I mean the people who cannot understand that rain is a festival, who do not appreciate its gratuity, who think that what has no price has no value, that what cannot be sold is not real, so that the only way to make something actual is to place it on the market. The time will come when they will sell you even your rain. At the moment it is still free, and I am in it. I celebrate its gratuity and its meaninglessness. �Thomas Merton, "Rain and the Rhinoceros"
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:how gorgeous is it outside. it is nice to think about putting on my pink pyjama pants & sitting in bed, with the large window opposite, so that i can read books written for people half my age & look up out into the rained-in city.
for the longest time there was just a vacant apartment, directly across the street, but now there are people moving around, shutting blinds, turning lights on, or off again, talking loudly with voices carrying. they have a cat that likes to sit in the window. reckoning likes to make expressive faces at neighbor-cat.
it makes me feel slightly voyeuristic to know all these things about the people across the avenue, but the truth is that there are probably more opportunities for voyeurism on their end of things.
take that.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:today in tnn country weekly amid kissy-face bits of news on lorrie-morgan-&-sammy-kershaw i read about the o brother where art thou soundtrack which has (astonishment & gasp!) topped the charts without radio play from country stations. tnn country weekly is amazed. incredulous.
how can people want to listen to backwatery oldfashioned unradioed music.
answer: because it is brilliant, & pop country is not.
answer 2: because this is what we want.
answer 3: because pop country is full of men with pretty voices, wearing cowboy hats, & it is not full of those wild green moments that are just so... wild... & green.
poor brilliant ralph stanley, this is his first number-one record in almost sixty years of recording. i want to hug him. except i find him so intimidating. because so brilliant. (if you doubt me i will send you tapes. or if you like me, too.)
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:yesterday i realized that saint francis of assisi & thomas merton & i(!) all experienced our conversions at the same age, twenty-three.
i got a little shudder when i knew that for certain.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:O Maestro fa che io non cerchi tanto ad essere consolato, quanto a consolare; ad essere compreso quanto a comprendere; ad essere amato quanto ad amare. ......� san francisco d'assisi
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:today we were sitting in the lounge at work when the rain very suddenly hit: with thunder & all. the thunder crashed & something shook the place, & someone asked What is that?
& i looked up & said, "it's fort knox."
because i grew up only miles away. & when i was small every time you heard a great shaking booming noise you had to look outside the window. if there was rain it was the thunder. if there was no rain it was people practicing wars.
i have been out of there for six years. but suddenly today & maybe it was because i was in a windowless room & so for a second the rain did not exist i thought it was the tanks instead.
no one questioned me when i said it though.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:i've seen trouble all my days/
i bid farewell to old kentucky/
the place where i was born and raised/
for six long years i've been in trouble/
[[.i am a man of constant sorrow.]]
[traditional]
Naturally no one can believe the things they say about the rain. It all implies one basic lie: only the city is real. That weather, not being planned, not being fabricated, is an impertinence, a wen on the visage of progress. (Just a simple little operation, and the whole mess may become relatively tolerable. Let business make the rain. This will give it meaning.)� Thomas Merton again, "Rain and the Rhinoceros" again
