miscellany

Workshop planning with @foldingtext - timings in blue are auto-generated, calculated from the text based lengths of time I’ve entered at the end of each line/paragraph (see italics, auto-formatted). “Start :” line is automagically generated, and can be edited, meaning plans can be reused and refreshed simply by changing the start time. And the beauty of all of this is that it actually serves as a step by step timer. The current step is highlighted at the appropriate time, and a notification pops up on each next step. Way to stay on time during a workshop plan! At the end of the list, which you can’t see here, an end time also dynamically generated, so if you change timings on the fly, you can see the ramifications instantly. 

I wouldn’t use this during every workshop— much of my facilitation is responsive, and by the time I’m in the space, I’ve already got the plan in my head. Any changes that need to be made are implemented organically, and we roll with what comes. That said, as a planning tool, this is beautiful. And it’s just one mode of a pretty stellar text editor, with todo lists, outlining, node folding, text tagging and more. So you can write poems, plan workshops and manage projects all in the same app, using plain text files that you can open on any platform in any other text editor. This just jumped to the top of my toolkit.

Workshop planning with @foldingtext - timings in blue are auto-generated, calculated from the text based lengths of time I’ve entered at the end of each line/paragraph (see italics, auto-formatted). “Start :” line is automagically generated, and can be edited, meaning plans can be reused and refreshed simply by changing the start time. And the beauty of all of this is that it actually serves as a step by step timer. The current step is highlighted at the appropriate time, and a notification pops up on each next step. Way to stay on time during a workshop plan! At the end of the list, which you can’t see here, an end time also dynamically generated, so if you change timings on the fly, you can see the ramifications instantly.

I wouldn’t use this during every workshop— much of my facilitation is responsive, and by the time I’m in the space, I’ve already got the plan in my head. Any changes that need to be made are implemented organically, and we roll with what comes. That said, as a planning tool, this is beautiful. And it’s just one mode of a pretty stellar text editor, with todo lists, outlining, node folding, text tagging and more. So you can write poems, plan workshops and manage projects all in the same app, using plain text files that you can open on any platform in any other text editor. This just jumped to the top of my toolkit.

For today’s #morningreading I’m still with the Kevin Stein (Sufficiency of the Actual). Most, if not all, of these captures have been the beginnings of longer poems. This starts as any “definition poem” might, but sustains a bold trajectory moving forward, testament to Stein’s vision and linguistic verve. If you haven’t yet been moved to investigate his work further, do yourself a favour…

For today’s #morningreading I’m still with the Kevin Stein (Sufficiency of the Actual). Most, if not all, of these captures have been the beginnings of longer poems. This starts as any “definition poem” might, but sustains a bold trajectory moving forward, testament to Stein’s vision and linguistic verve. If you haven’t yet been moved to investigate his work further, do yourself a favour…

There is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting. Consider this utterly commonplace situation: a man is walking down the street. At a certain moment, he tries to recall something, but the recollection escapes him. Automatically he slows down. Meanwhile, a person who wants to forget a disagreeable
incident he has just lived through starts unconsciously to speed up his pace, as if he were trying to distance himself from a thing still too close to him in time.

In existential mathematics, that experience takes the form of two basic equations: the degree of slowness is directly proportion to the intensity of memory; the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting.

Milan Kundera, from Slowness (HarperCollins, 1996)

(Source: liquidnight, via artistic-s)

Our business is to see what we can do with the English language as it is. How can we combine the old words in new orders so that they survive, so that they create beauty, so that they tell the truth? That is the question.

And the person who could answer that question would deserve whatever crown of glory the world has to offer. Think what it would mean if you could teach, if you could learn, the art of writing. Why, every book, every newspaper would tell the truth, would create beauty.

Virginia Woolf, who drowned on March 28, 1941, on the art of language and the beauty of words in the only surviving recording of her voice. (via explore-blog)
For language to have meaning there must be intervals of silence somewhere, to divide word from word and utterance from utterance. He who retires into silence does not necessarily hate language. Perhaps it is love and respect for language which imposes silence upon him.
Thomas Merton, “Disputed Questions” (via litverve)

(via an-itinerant-poet)

  • INTERVIEWER:

    Wordsworth spoke of growing up “Fostered alike by beauty and by fear,” and he put fearful experiences first; but he also said that his primary subject was “the mind of Man.” Don’t you write more about the mind than about the external world?

  • BARTHELME:

    In a commonsense way, you write about the impingement of one upon the other—my subjectivity bumping into other subjectivities, or into the Prime Rate. You exist for me in my perception of you (and in some rough, Raggedy Andy way, for yourself, of course). That’s what’s curious when people say, of writers, This one’s a realist, this one’s a surrealist, this one’s a super-realist, and so forth. In fact, everybody’s a realist offering true accounts of the activity of mind. There are only realists.

Without discomfort your comfort becomes your main weakness. Change is uncomfortable and discomfort is necessary for change. Change is possible, but it is never easy and it is never comfortable.
The Virtue of Discomfort - Jacob Lund Fisker

There are two birds in your head, raven and crow, and only one of them is yours. A ghost and a robot doing battle, singing like telephones, the phone is ringing, a headache word. You are dancing with the birdcage girl, banging your head against a cage that isn’t there. You want to say yes: yes to the bathtub, yes to the gumdrops, no to the laughing skullheads.

The holes in this picture are not flowers, they are not wheels, and the phone is ringing ringing, a headache word, it’s ringing for you. This is in the second person. This is happening to you because I don’t want to be here. Is there anything I won’t put words around? Yes, there is.

Richard Siken, opening two paragraphs to “Black Telephone,” from the “Editor’s Page" of Spork (No. 1.3, Winter 2001-2002)

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