Tuesday, April 29, 2014

I remember, Geordie's birthday is today

to me, was born 29 April
in the Santa Ynez valley,
not far from the seaside
town where I summered as
a boy. Geordie helped me
to raise Robbie and Whit,
and then there was a gap
before Thorny. The first
such gap, between Geor-
die's whelping and join-
ing me on Russian Hill,
expired on Bastille Day,
serving notice of Cham-
pagne's continuing elo-
quence, while acquaint-
ing me with a maxim to
which I've ever since
gladly adhered: never
inflict a great vintage
upon a great occasion,
for nothing could be 
more symmetrically su-

   For those of us who find it useful
   to make periodic audits of our lives,
   it is probably common ground that we
   soon discover that for the exercise
   to be challenging does not necessarily
   require it to be morbid; we also learn
   that while there is real value in ask-
   ing the question, 'Why am I doing this?'
   there is not always a neat and comfor-
   table answer; I don't think that matters.

   Let no one think I am laying claim to
   have done anything important. I am un-
   wavering in my belief that [mine] is
   essentially an ephemeral affair; frivol-
   ous, even. That for me is part of its at-
   traction and its romance .. closely bound
   up with pleasure; both the giving and the
   taking of pleasure.

rmbl, a project I do not think of as a blog, is a manifestation of a taste for the lark, which Jo-han Huizinga had the wit to historicise in Homo Ludens (1938), not the ideal year for promulgating the primacy of the spirit of play in culture. The lark is never afforded an inter-val, however; its char-acter is to interrupt.

I observe a timely interval
of comparative silence this
May, not that it's any more
possible to restrain Huizin-
ga's antic herald, than it
is to enhance his song with
Champagne. In his silence I
still don't doubt his trill.

Hugh Cavendish
A Time to Plant
  Life and Gardening
 at Holker
op. cit.

ii  Photo Hedi Slimane


  1. I always ask, present occasion excepted, "why am I doing this?" I have never been satisfied with any answer that was forthcoming. My conclusion? There ain't no answers.

    1. Thank you for sharing this experience and perspective. If you do question answers that come to you, for a question you nevertheless still ask, you knowingly articulate what your page already projects of both features: that at least the question and the quality of its answers do no harm to the consistency of its voice. There's the gift.

  2. but go 'a maying, with a dog and a lark. I think a taste for the lark puts it quite well for me-as my random posts attest. I post less-but I am always thinking, silence is an equalizer for too much of a good thing at times. pgt

    1. I think the unparalleled diversity of your subjects and the acuity of your treatments deserve some credit for banishing any impression of excess, but I take your point. For my part the frequency of presentation in blogging is less a nemesis than the page's erasure every day. Possibly this is conspicuous in a blog of anonymity, where no profession or particular avocation can impart a sustained context. In any case, the lark intervenes, and doesn't remain.

      Thank you.