I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.
The trouble with fighting for human freedom is that one spends most of one's time defending scoundrels. For it is against scoundrels that oppressive laws are first aimed, and oppression must be stopped at the beginning if it is to be stopped at all.
Many people would sooner die than think; In fact, they do so
What I have been telling you, from alpha to omega, what is the one great thing the sigil taught me — that everything in life is miraculous. For the sigil taught me that it rests within the power of each of us to awaken at will from a dragging nightmare of life made up of unimportant tasks and tedious useless little habits, to see life as it really is, and to rejoice in its exquisite wonderfulness. If the sigil were proved to be the top of a tomato-can, it would not alter that big fact, nor my fixed faith. No Harrowby, the common names we call things by do not matter — except to show how very dull we are ...
June 22, 2012 - 1:40 p.m.
The Chronoklepts attacked this morning and now it's noon and I'm just starting to write. That's bad as the apartment is getting hot. I'm trying an experiment keeping the door to my bedroom open and the AC in there on but it isn't up to the job. I might try to jury rig something like my father used to do. I'll hang a cord across the living room close to the bedroom and hang sheets from it to shut off the portion with my computer and TV from the rest of the room and see if the AC can keep that part cool.
I've been very busy the last few days and have a lot to write about. I guess I should start. Let's see if I can remember all the way back to Wednesday. I can! A miracle.
Wednesday was hot. It was very hot. Yet somehow I survived in my apartment without AC. I'm having a lot more issues today.
All my cooking gear is in my storage and there is not enough in the apartment to suit my needs. Now that I have the stove connected to the gas I started picking stuff up. I don't have a decent chef's knife and I went to buy one yesterday. I read that you should get that sort of thing at a restaurant supply store and discovered that I live just one subway stop from the Brooklyn Restaurant supply district. I ended up getting a utility knife which is a bit smaller but pretty much the same thing and half the price. I thought the chef's knife too big. If I need it I can go back and buy it. It wasn't much money. I also got a salt shaker, ladle, and whisk, all very cheap. I didn't like the skillets. I am going to go today to Bed, Bath, & Beyond to see what I can get. I need something to make omelets in and perhaps something else to grill things on. I hate buying things that I already own but if I can't find them in my storage unit they aren't doing me any good.
Wednesday night I went to the Christopher Street Coffee House to see Ellis. I finally got there early enough to beat the musician. I'm the artist liason so I'm supposed to. Of course she hardly had any equipment so I didn�t have to help her unload her car. I never mind the time I'm there before the show as I hang out with Tim, the sexton. We are still in the delightful getting to know each other stage of our friendship and there are a lot of interesting things I'm learning about Tim. I so often end up telling him that he should write up his stories. If I ever end up writing fiction he'll find his way into my characters.
When Ellis showed up she came in a door I didn't expect, not the one I was watching so she first saw me across the length of the unlit sanctuary. The lights were off to keep the room cool. That worked well. I was surprised that she recognized me from afar like that but then she pointed out that I said hello. My dissonant piercing wail of a voice is a bit distinctive. Think fingernails on a blackboard.
Thanks to the folk world being so small the artists whose needs it is I'm supposed to see to are often friends of mine and Ellis is one of those. That makes the job very easy. You know how I love my gratuitous hugs. She's friends with all of the members of the board that aren't from the Church; one of our people. Meg did part of my job by bringing Ellis her dinner.
This show we had not one but two volunteers David was joined by Ellen. Ellen sold the merch when she arrived. David and I set up the merch and he took my usual job of official photographer. Next year we want more volunteers. If you want to sign up for it contact me by email or Facebook.
Wow this is getting long and I haven't even started on the music and I have another day to write about. I might have to break this down into two editions. Maybe I'll save writing yesterday's tale till tomorrow. I've been behind all week anyway.
I notice that I've been writing a lot not just about music and the musicians but also the different ways that I appreciate music. While everyone is a mix Ellis's prime way of reaching me is different than anyone I've been writing about in this vein. My love of Ellis is not based on brilliant musicianship or the elaborate development of her music. It isn't about her clever use of language. It isn't about telling stories in song. She isn't a troubadour, She doesn't have a voice like an elven queen, though she does look like she stepped out of Tolkien's world. In fact I rarely think about Ellis's individual songs other than Coffee. No what makes Ellis special is that she takes you right into her soul. It isn't even a matter of making herself transparent. You don't see her soul behind glass. There is no barrier; you see, hear, smell, taste, and feel it. For most people that would be frightening, I know you don't want to experience my soul like that. Ellis is that rare person for which that sharing is a joy.
Perhaps I'm wrong and that's not what's going on and it's all artifice. Then she's an incredible craftsman; you see no sign of her handiwork. And as an artist she succeeds either way. What matters is how the listener is affected, not how the effect is achieved. I'm still happier thinking that is the real Ellis and that her genius is in letting the world know her so well, not in creating a fictional character.
I had to get up at 5 AM the next day so I had to make a quick exit after the show. I had to but you know I didn't. There were just too many people I love talking to there. The Christopher Street Coffee House has become another home away from home. I then screwed up my commute home. I went to the wrong platform on the train and first out of habit, the one that goes to Queens. That meant I missed the first train home. Have I mentioned that I'm an idiot?
I will leave the writing about yesterday till either later today or tomorrow. Now I am going to make breakfast then take a nice cold shower.
I signed the Pro-Truth Pledge:
please hold me accountable.
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Horvendile June 22, 2012
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