My Photo

Who was Cassandra?


  • In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well, you know what happened.

MY SMALL PRESS


« Rain | Main | Poems from the via negativa »

June 13, 2011

Comments

Thanks for the heads up on radio open source I'll listen in.

Podcasts I find worthwhile
BBC documentaries
Zencast.org
CBC: Spark, Writers & Co, The Next Chapter, Dispatches
some TED talks
This American Life

I remember painting the cabinets in the house my ex and I used to own. He was working full-time, so I did most of the sanding & painting during the day when he was gone. For some reason, I kept playing the same two CDs over and over: Moby's Play and Lauryn Hill's The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. It was like there was something "in" the music I needed at the time, and I consumed them hungrily, like someone starved, over and over.

After the painting was done, I seldom listened to either: their work was done. When we moved from that house, I sold them along with a bunch of other CDs. But whenever I hear a song from either one, it instantly brings me back, as if the music carries within it the smell of primer and paint.

Painting is summer work, all right, when the windows can be open & the light is long. I lived most of my childhood in a big square clapboard house of which my dad painted one side every summer; on the 5th year he would do the garage. Then begin again. He could paint with both hands which meant he didn't need to move the tall extension ladder quite as often as mere mortals. He would descend at dusk & pour himself a beer for "that terrible painter's thirst," then under cover of darkness, in small-town Bible-belt Pennsylvania where my mom was the local math teacher, carry the empties out to the garage.

What a great reminiscence. Reminded me of when we first moved to this house 26 years ago. Every room was beige or stark white. My son had just started first grade and I spent the days painting yellows and blues. I listened to Pachobel's Canon over and over and over. And after school, listening to the play of my son and his friends frolicking through the house. Days of pure joy.

These days I listen only to classical music or podcasts from BBC or NY Review of Books and such when I am working in the kitchen or garden. We hire other people to paint, as I HATE painting!

Lovely, Beth. How about some photos of the newly-painted room? I've painted endless walls in many places and I love doing that, the way it changes the atmosphere. I've been meaning to to do it again here as my flat badly needs re-decor Congratulations for getting there.

Just wondering, thinking about the way you ended that post--is there an International Arts Movement group (IAM "I am") in Montreal?

The comments to this entry are closed.