As I briefly mentioned yesterday, we've been dealing with quite a bit of family stuff lately, fortunately most of it of the delightful kind. We're just off now to celebrate Fafa's wedding. 😀 Good grief! When did my little niece grow up without me really noticing?
Postscript: A jolly good time indeed was enjoyed by all at the wedding celebration. Some youthful exuberance as evidence below:
Trying to carve out time to get on with my reading of The Complete Poems of A. R. Ammons, Volume 2 - and, to some small degree succeeding, despite the demands of examination marking for the IB and family stuff. I'd lost a bit of momentum after completing the brilliant Bosh and Flapdoodle sequence from 2005 partly because I was a touch doubtful that the final 150+ pages comprising appendices featuring uncollected & posthumously published poems would match up to my (high) expectations of Archie. It didn't help that I'd struggled with the Brink Road material near the beginning of this volume.
Anyway, it looks like I was wrong - very happily so. I'm 9 poems in and they've all been rewarding in their different ways (stretching from 1956 - 1964 in terms of dates, so distinctly different in style given the poet's development over those years.) Astonishing to think of just how much great stuff finds its way into the two volumes of the Complete.
One small example: Just read Sung Reassertions, a 1963 piece after a poem by William Carlos Williams that's not exactly in the usual Archie mode. In fact, it's got more than an element of Dr Williams about it, but I reckon is almost better than Williams at his considerable best. (It spins off from a late WCW poem about roosters crowing, exploring the idea of them marking out their territory through sound and features some killer lines along the way - the sun / his embassy of light, colors // the throne-room of his breast... I mean, blimey, how good is that?!!)
Now and again I'll jot down a line of dialogue that belongs to a non-existent play about nothing that I'll never write. Usually I have next to no idea as to what they mean. Today, without exactly meaning to, I jotted down the following since I heard it in my head: I got the impression he was trying to avoid me. Mind you, most days I think I'd be inclined to avoid myself as much as possible.
I'm not a big fan of my own work, but I quite like this one. The problem is, though, that I suspect the 'me' in question might well be me (in person as it were) which makes it all a bit ouch.
And just occasionally there are days that serve as reminders of the sheer undeserved unlikely good fortune of being able to exist. Especially if you've been around a long time.
Three great post-Ramadhan moments today, in no particular order of merit:
Munching a delectable cake (from my equally delectable form class (as they term it in these parts)) along with slurping some tea from my flask, around 9.45 am;
Enjoying my first cuppa in SAC along with listening to some David Bowie (played from my phone) later in the day;
Enjoying my second cuppa in SAC along with staring in a zen-like trance at the greenery through the big window. In truth, doing nothing, and doing it very well. This was, by the by, even later in the day.
A good day indeed, despite the busy bits - of which there were more than a few.
The last couple of days have seen me making a slow but entirely happy start on George MacDonald Fraser's Flashman and the Angel of the Lord. I thought I needed to pick something broadly disgraceful for my post-Ramadhan reading and, of course, any of the brilliant Flashman series would be more than appropriate.
This is the tenth in the series, and the only one I own, having received it as a gift back in the 1990s. Loved it then, but read it very quickly, just to enjoy the characterisation of Fraser's great anti-hero and his exhilarating escapades. This time round I'm paying close attention to the historical details, which I sort of previously skipped by in wanting to just enjoy a gripping yarn of the highest order. I reckon I'm getting much more out of the fiction as a result.
So now I'm thinking I need to (one day) embark on a reread of the whole series. To be honest, I'm a bit hazy over which were the exact ones I read, but that sort of adds to my considerable enthusiasm.
09.20
Drove up to Melaka yesterday evening. Was worried as to whether the checkpoints and roads would be busy with Raya traffic, but the journey was a proverbial breeze. Door to door in 3 hours & 10 minutes.
Sadly, though, there was a brief hold-up on the highway after Machap for what looked like a bad accident involving a motor-bike, which appeared to have very recently taken place. No police or ambulance at the scene, but several cars stopped to re-direct traffic. I'm pretty sure there were fatalities involved. Couldn't help but think of someone, somewhere getting the worst of news on Hari Raya. And simply couldn't help as it would have been pointless.
We're off visiting soon. Hope we stay safe. There are no guarantees in this world.
23.55
Got there and back safely. The 'there' in question being three houses, replete with food & drink. Now officially exhausted as well as safe.
Went to the second session for Raya Prayers at the masjid at which the khutbah was in English (and translated into Bengali). First time I've really understood completely the message for the day (based on the part in English, I mean.)
Now replete with all sorts of goodies and thinking of our forthcoming journey northwards later in the day, and the journey we made to the centre of things last December. (See photo above.)
As ever, to all and everyone: Eid Mubarak!
29 Ramadhan, 1444
One of the benefits of doing the Dawn Prayer early, as is my wont in Ramadhan, is that it's invariably accompanied by our feathered friends tuning up at first light. A couple of days back, when we suffered the power outage, I prayed with all the windows open to ease the humidity that had built up through the long, still night, and got to hear even more detail than usual. Normally there's one very obvious repeated melody that dominates - and gets a bit monotonous if truth be told. But on that morning I became conscious of deeper textures - a whole net of sound. Entangled in blessings.
Have you not seen that God it is to whom everything in the heavens and on the earth gives praise and the birds on the wing. He knows the prayer of each, the praise of each.
