I was thinking about narrative and the phrase “there are no new tales left to tell” and its myriad variations.
Looking into it, someone was suggesting writing in “the quiet, eerie margins” was a writing space left largely untapped. Described as: “It is the difference between a sudden, violent storm (the loud center) and the heavy, electric stillness in the air just before the barometer drops (the quiet margin).”
Of course, I’m curious about your thoughts.
Are there truly no new tales left to tell? Is everything derivative? Can you think of a story that doesn’t have an easy analogue?
Or, how would you interpret writing “in the quiet, eerie margin”? Do you have a different description or opinion? Where would you start if you were writing in/of the margin?
insight at
sharp claws,
sharper teeth
a hint of lemons—
how shall we name
our many ghosts?
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is sowilo, the sun. Sowilo is the source of enlightenment, for lighting the way and illumination. It is also called the “icebreaker” and gives power to an “attack”, ensuring success and/or prosperity. This rune also represents hope, the light at the end of a long darkness.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
cool under leaf shadow flicker of sun of shine bright against black loam stretching pale under fibre and web and green let detritus weave the hair to carry back on den
today, i will fox and they can pretend i am mad — i will laugh because laughter is easier than arguing
instead: i bark the night
with finger roots digging flame through humus i ring too-green lawns come morning burning naked under cool leaf shadow
i well deep this in unwrought stone grow moss long at evergloam naught but echo keening of mouth howling of heart brittle, broken, ravaged & worn here of my well deep in unwrought stone
I’m tired of opinions presenting themselves as, “I have an opinion, and because it’s my opinion, it is the Truth or the only correct opinion one should have.”
Or opinions in search of a problem.
I’m tired of problems too. I’d like to hear more solutions.
That ragamuffin had been quiet as a sceaducat padding her way through and behind rangy scrub, mustering courage to speak out. Spooky quiet. I might have missed it had I been ranging like most folk do through here.
But I’d heard her all the same. And I had a mystique cultivated to protect, so I drew out the minutes in a yarn stretched taut to lend it further credence, showing her all brim on my widehat until my eyes slow-locked onto hers.
She’d be the pretty type some day, that much was clear. But now she was more Jack than Jane and all gangly-limbed. Those eyes would eventually kill at fifty stride, if the storms didn’t take them first. Or some reaver.
She earned my respect right off, staying silent like she was. Said her bit, expected answers. Weren’t gonna beg for nothing.
I’m not quite sure why I decided to give Phoebe Bridgers a whirl yesterday on recommendation by The Guardian. I am not her target audience, so maybe it was was the description of her sound as “folk” that caught my attention.
Whatever the reason, I ended up watching the official video for her new single and thought, “Huh, not bad.” It reminded me of the late 90s Lilith Faire sounds that were making the rounds on the somewhat progressive radio stations of the time. A nice change of pace from what I’ve been mostly hearing for the two decades or so. I always appreciate a retro feel (good gods, I’m now retro!). A little slicker than I usually like, but most things are slicker in the digital age than I usually prefer. The conceptual official video was also a nice change of pace from the plotless stage (or inside of cheese-grater) videos that most folks do these days.
Anyway, I was feeling like a potato and doing potato kinds of things, I started watching YouTube videos on the big television. And, because it is YouTube and I watched on video of Phoebe Bridgers, I obviously wanted to watch more of the same.
A live video came up of a live show performance and I thought I’d see how she sounded live. It’s a potato thing to do when one is potatoing.
I was expecting live — I was not expecting kids to be her supporting band.
Kids.
Like 10-12 year old kids.
And they knocked that shit out of the park and into the next county.
I mean, that 10-year-old drummer is banging on those skins like a champ. I absolutely love her energy.
Give it a whirl. Turn off the sound if the music doesn’t appeal and just be impressed with the ear-to-ear smiles of kids performing live as if they are having the time of their lives. If you really don’t care for it, jump to the end when Jimmy is shaking everyone’s hands. That’s worth a ton right there.
What a joy to watch kids just being kids and being awesome!
