Oh!! So close! For a hot minute I believed you were going to sign off for two weeks and restore your brain by watching the fire. Then you say you digging into a two week project of indexes for three years of work. Check out the LinkedIn post Sia did today about how we want it all and suck at relaxation https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7141297312907096064
I took your advice. Watched a murder mystery while working on a hat and suddenly realized two things about my novel. Just made my notes. Now I'm going back to the murder mystery and the hat.
Hi Alison. That's such a gentle and generous-spirited post you just did. Also very real. There's the focus that's off to the side, but your energy hasn't left it. You're waiting for it to come clear, for a beautiful notion to arrive.
I remember years ago going on a holiday when my daughter was young. I was lazy. I never got to be lazy, still rarely do. And then bang, there's that process you're talking about, and I went oh wow, this is where the ideas hatch when we give them time.
Enjoy your break. Taking time to just sit is a skill I've been working on. it is so nit in my nature but I can see the value in it. I look forward to your posts in the New Year. xo
I've been wading through a backlog of unopened and unread email, something I rarely "allow" to happen. I have a touch of compulsion when it comes to those little red bubbles, or bold-typed numbers, letting me know how far behind I am. They must go! All that to say, I'm considering it an active of divine intervention that I did not just delete this one to clear the notification and absolve myself of responsibility. There is a method to this madness!
Thank you for the call to be still, for the ideas for how to do that, for the deliciously endearing story of claiming a log to watch. As we no longer have any indoor fire-burning device (much to my dismay), I'll have to channel that wonderful concept toward some other point of focus. But the value remains! Be well, Alison, and enjoy this precious holiday time.
A friend and I were reminiscing recently. I was reminded of this story that I wrote a couple of years ago.
…
Alexa
Alexa, play Ellrod, Half Life.
The LED indicator on the top of the device pulsed blue. Electric Relaxation by a Tribe Called Quest from Apple Music, Alexa announced.
Alexa stop.
Ellrod poured himself a couple of fingers of scotch - he was failing miserably in his attempts to cut back - and read the letter again. SOCAN, it said, had collected $.84 in performance royalties for streams of his 30 year old CD, Half Life.
84 cents. Well done. Pick up your lifetime achievement award on your way out, he thought.
Alexa, play Ellrod, Half Life, jazz trombone, he directed.
The blue LED flickered again. I can’t find Homage by Jorge Luis on Apple Music, Alexa said.
Ellrod eyed the bottle of scotch. 84 cents didn’t buy much Macallan, even the 12 year old stuff.
Ellrod had been out of high school for a couple of years, playing in rock and funk bands, when he decided to go to music school. He brushed up on his theory, polished up a Rochut, and was accepted into the School of Music at the University of British Columbia. He realized almost immediately he did not belong there.
First year was a misery and second year was not much better. Then a classmate mentioned she was going to write the LSAT. The Law School Aptitude Test, she explained. She was going to apply to law school. You can do that? Ellrod was astonished.
He signed up to write the LSAT. He bought an expensive book of sample exam questions and began preparing. He worked on it for several months.
The LSAT was scheduled for a Saturday morning in mid-December, the morning after the music department’s orchestra concert and Christmas party. Firebird was on the program, Ellrod remembered. He planned to play the concert, maybe have a drink at the Christmas party, and then head home and go to bed. He had to get up early to get back out to the university the following morning to write the four-hour exam.
Ellrod was a little worried about the Stravinsky. There were a couple of exposed bits for the second trombone, but they went well. Afterwards, he stopped by the Christmas party and had a drink. And then another. And another. After the stress of preparing for the LSAT and his worries about the concert, he couldn’t stop. Eventually someone, he couldn’t remember who, drove him home. He woke up the following morning, sick and hungover. His car was still out at the music school. He didn’t make it to the LSAT.
It needn’t have been the end of the world. He could have written the test in the spring. But, in April, he got a gig with the circus. Two shows a day, three on Saturdays and Sundays, with Mondays and Tuesdays off, except you were likely on the road, travelling to the next town. High, loud, the horn always on your face.
He could have written the test in the fall too, but in September he got on with a cruise line. He managed to catch the tail end of the Atlantic hurricane season, and spent a couple of weeks puking his guts out in his shared cabin before finding his sea legs playing twice a night in a Tony Orlando cover band. After that, there was no further thought of the LSAT.
He eventually got work in town. He learned the rules of being a working musician: don’t be late, but don’t be early; smile but keep your mouth shut; and always check the dress requirements. Never turn down a gig unless it was for a better paying gig. He was reliable and low maintenance.
In the late 80s, he arranged a couple of his own tunes and a couple of standards, hired some of his friends, and recorded a CD in a local studio. It got a bit of play on CBC, and he managed to leverage it into a couple of years’ work on the summer jazz festival circuit and a short Canada Council-sponsored tour of the Maritimes. The title track, Half Life, one of his own tunes, was picked up for a radio jingle for a tire store. That paid a bit of money for about six months before the store went out of business. He left the last few copies of the CD in a box in the storage locker when he moved out after the divorce.
And now, someone, somewhere, had streamed it enough times to earn him $.84 in performance royalties.
Alexa, play Half Life, by Ellrod, he said.
The LED flickered again, but orange this time. I’m sorry, Alexa said, but I’m having trouble connecting to the Internet right now. Please try again later.
Fuck you Alexa, he thought. He streamed himself another two fingers of Macallan. Low tech.
Oh!! So close! For a hot minute I believed you were going to sign off for two weeks and restore your brain by watching the fire. Then you say you digging into a two week project of indexes for three years of work. Check out the LinkedIn post Sia did today about how we want it all and suck at relaxation https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7141297312907096064
So true. The subconscious drives the bus.
I took your advice. Watched a murder mystery while working on a hat and suddenly realized two things about my novel. Just made my notes. Now I'm going back to the murder mystery and the hat.
Thanks!
Sitting.
Hi Alison. That's such a gentle and generous-spirited post you just did. Also very real. There's the focus that's off to the side, but your energy hasn't left it. You're waiting for it to come clear, for a beautiful notion to arrive.
I remember years ago going on a holiday when my daughter was young. I was lazy. I never got to be lazy, still rarely do. And then bang, there's that process you're talking about, and I went oh wow, this is where the ideas hatch when we give them time.
Happy holidays!
I'll carry on daydreaming!
Yeah. The book "Bored and Brilliant" talks about this in more depth. Down time is important!
Enjoy your break. Taking time to just sit is a skill I've been working on. it is so nit in my nature but I can see the value in it. I look forward to your posts in the New Year. xo
Lovely advice! The holidays can get so hectic but the point is peace and joy and reflection. This exercise fits into the theme of the season.
I've been wading through a backlog of unopened and unread email, something I rarely "allow" to happen. I have a touch of compulsion when it comes to those little red bubbles, or bold-typed numbers, letting me know how far behind I am. They must go! All that to say, I'm considering it an active of divine intervention that I did not just delete this one to clear the notification and absolve myself of responsibility. There is a method to this madness!
Thank you for the call to be still, for the ideas for how to do that, for the deliciously endearing story of claiming a log to watch. As we no longer have any indoor fire-burning device (much to my dismay), I'll have to channel that wonderful concept toward some other point of focus. But the value remains! Be well, Alison, and enjoy this precious holiday time.
A friend and I were reminiscing recently. I was reminded of this story that I wrote a couple of years ago.
…
Alexa
Alexa, play Ellrod, Half Life.
The LED indicator on the top of the device pulsed blue. Electric Relaxation by a Tribe Called Quest from Apple Music, Alexa announced.
Alexa stop.
Ellrod poured himself a couple of fingers of scotch - he was failing miserably in his attempts to cut back - and read the letter again. SOCAN, it said, had collected $.84 in performance royalties for streams of his 30 year old CD, Half Life.
84 cents. Well done. Pick up your lifetime achievement award on your way out, he thought.
Alexa, play Ellrod, Half Life, jazz trombone, he directed.
The blue LED flickered again. I can’t find Homage by Jorge Luis on Apple Music, Alexa said.
Ellrod eyed the bottle of scotch. 84 cents didn’t buy much Macallan, even the 12 year old stuff.
Ellrod had been out of high school for a couple of years, playing in rock and funk bands, when he decided to go to music school. He brushed up on his theory, polished up a Rochut, and was accepted into the School of Music at the University of British Columbia. He realized almost immediately he did not belong there.
First year was a misery and second year was not much better. Then a classmate mentioned she was going to write the LSAT. The Law School Aptitude Test, she explained. She was going to apply to law school. You can do that? Ellrod was astonished.
He signed up to write the LSAT. He bought an expensive book of sample exam questions and began preparing. He worked on it for several months.
The LSAT was scheduled for a Saturday morning in mid-December, the morning after the music department’s orchestra concert and Christmas party. Firebird was on the program, Ellrod remembered. He planned to play the concert, maybe have a drink at the Christmas party, and then head home and go to bed. He had to get up early to get back out to the university the following morning to write the four-hour exam.
Ellrod was a little worried about the Stravinsky. There were a couple of exposed bits for the second trombone, but they went well. Afterwards, he stopped by the Christmas party and had a drink. And then another. And another. After the stress of preparing for the LSAT and his worries about the concert, he couldn’t stop. Eventually someone, he couldn’t remember who, drove him home. He woke up the following morning, sick and hungover. His car was still out at the music school. He didn’t make it to the LSAT.
It needn’t have been the end of the world. He could have written the test in the spring. But, in April, he got a gig with the circus. Two shows a day, three on Saturdays and Sundays, with Mondays and Tuesdays off, except you were likely on the road, travelling to the next town. High, loud, the horn always on your face.
He could have written the test in the fall too, but in September he got on with a cruise line. He managed to catch the tail end of the Atlantic hurricane season, and spent a couple of weeks puking his guts out in his shared cabin before finding his sea legs playing twice a night in a Tony Orlando cover band. After that, there was no further thought of the LSAT.
He eventually got work in town. He learned the rules of being a working musician: don’t be late, but don’t be early; smile but keep your mouth shut; and always check the dress requirements. Never turn down a gig unless it was for a better paying gig. He was reliable and low maintenance.
In the late 80s, he arranged a couple of his own tunes and a couple of standards, hired some of his friends, and recorded a CD in a local studio. It got a bit of play on CBC, and he managed to leverage it into a couple of years’ work on the summer jazz festival circuit and a short Canada Council-sponsored tour of the Maritimes. The title track, Half Life, one of his own tunes, was picked up for a radio jingle for a tire store. That paid a bit of money for about six months before the store went out of business. He left the last few copies of the CD in a box in the storage locker when he moved out after the divorce.
And now, someone, somewhere, had streamed it enough times to earn him $.84 in performance royalties.
Alexa, play Half Life, by Ellrod, he said.
The LED flickered again, but orange this time. I’m sorry, Alexa said, but I’m having trouble connecting to the Internet right now. Please try again later.
Fuck you Alexa, he thought. He streamed himself another two fingers of Macallan. Low tech.