Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Reasons to be cheerful before 10:30 a.m.

Can there be any symbol of resiliency more endearing that a single strand of climbing cactus with a full bloom up where the air and light are free? This one on Calle 28 de Abril Norte in Colonia San Antonio makes me smile whenever I pass by.

———-         ———-          ———–          ———-

What do we need? HOPE!
When do we need it? NOW!
Who are we going to get it from? NOT FACEBOOK!
Then from who? (Or “whom” or “what”?) WINE!

OK! But are there any other vehicles of hope,
ones that we can remember in the morning?

Jesus, you people …
OK, let’s try song and poetry Continue reading

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Memoirs -- fact and fiction, Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

The Log asks me one thing: ‘Say, what have you been up to in social isolation?’

UntitledAfter living five years on an island off the coast of Belize and two years in the magical Mexican city San Miguel de Allende, isolation is just another change that we hadn’t planned on.

Recently while commiserating with a friend who had squirted a tube of oil point on a wall while trying to open it, it occurred to me that accidents are art waiting for vision to give them purpose.

The corollary to that is: There are no accidents in art.

So, let’s substitute the word “life” for “art.” Continue reading

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San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Things we do all the time and things we do for the first time ever

dandy-lion (1)From Ray Bradbury’s ” Dandelion Wine” …

“He brought out a yellow nickel tablet. He brought out a yellow Ticonderoga pencil. He opened the tablet. He licked the pencil.

“Tom,” he said, “you and your statistics gave me an idea. I’m going to do the same, keep track of things. For instance: you realize that every summer we do things over and over we did the whole darn summer before?”

“Like what, Doug?”

“Like making dandelion wine, like buying these new tennis shoes, like shooting off the first firecracker of the year, like making lemonade, like getting slivers in our feet, like picking wild fox grapes. Every year the same things, same way, no change, no difference. That’s one half of summer, Tom.”

“What’s the other half?”

“Things we do for the first time ever.”

+++++ +++++ +++++

What’s the last thing you did for the first time ever?

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Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

The Log: April 28 — Eva Cassidy is proof that there is life after death

IMG_1477#1 Emotional tempo upon awakening: Andante con moto.

#2 MOTIVATION: Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 23 in F Minor Op. 57 (“Appassionata”) played by Claudio Arrau in Berlin 1970. Blissful 26-minute journey.

#3 MEDITATION: Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor retooled for flute by Jean-Claude Veilhan and performed by Helene Schulthess inside the 800-year-old Swiss church of St. Peter in Mistail. Schulthess uses the church’s impenetrable walls and echoes to create beguiling depth for the nearly 10-minute composition.

It reminds me (only slightly, but just enough) of Paul Horn’s “Inside” (1969), A jazz flutist, Horn took his instrument and some recording equipment inside the Taj Mahal and used the building’s echoey acoustics as his backup band. Continue reading

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Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Grateful on this cool, preternaturally calm Sunday morning, I ask myself, isn’t this just enough, for now?

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All photographs taken on walks around San Miguel de Allende, the Magic City.

Lurking in the dark corner of the far left tabs

on my computer, for two weeks now,

Concerto for flute, no. 1 in G-Major, K. 313 (1778)

By Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and performed

By the Iceland Symphony Orchestra.

I imagine that Mozart and the ISO have

Survived so much. An Iceland orchestra must Continue reading

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San Miguel de Allende, Writings

The Log: April 24 — Stories help us understand, Alicia Keys helps us heal

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FREE ANNOTATION AND HOT LINKS:

#1. GREAT ESCAPE: The plan was for me to get up early and walk Moppit so Rose could take an online yoga class before the sun turned up the heat.

The internet was down.

Continue reading

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