dogtrax @dogtrax@mastodon.social

“ … almost every person bemoaned the fact that their beloved tapes had vanished. So many people had talked about the beautiful and wild cassette cover art adorning their tapes. Some, like myself, never did this. It was the simple listing of the artists and the song titles which held the magic.”

-- Thurston Moore, from Mix Tape (The Art of Cassette Culture), edited by Thurston Moore, page 12

#smallquotes

One twist
and all you
feel is
pain, lingering
reminders
of age.

#smallpoems

I'm listening in as I drive my 13 year old son and his friend to the movies. The friend plays guitar in a rock band.
"I finally figured out Stairway to Heaven," the friend announces.
My son nods.
"It's taken me a long time. It's tricky, but I finally got it," the friend says with pride.
That fretboard fingering is seared into my mind. I remember the same pain and joy of learning it.
Who knew that riff, overplayed yet iconic, would still be hanging around so many decades later?
#smallstories

@Algot You know we're doodling map/place themes all through July for #clmooc? Just wanted to let you know, my artistic friend (s).

https://clmooc.com/summer2018/

Three middle school campers sit to the left of me. I'm writing a poem (from perspective of an African American soldier returning home from WW2 as hero only to face racism). They are all working on original historical comics, deeply focused on their work, with intricate drawings and interesting stories. I ask them, do their teachers ever allow them to show learning through comics? They laugh. No, is the answer I get, from all three. Those teachers don't know what they're missing. #smallstories

“... the final page of any novel is a destination, the creation of form offering the illusion of inevitability, the denial of chaos. We don’t love novels because they are like life, but because they are unlike it -- deftly organized, filled with the satisfaction of shape.”

-- The Art of the Wasted Day, by Patricia Hampl, page 99

#smallquotes

I am
who I
project
myself
to be;
truth
lies
hidden
under
cover of
mystery

#smallpoems

I found the old box
of tapes, from another
lifetime ago:

Remember when we
scribbled notes on small
surfaces to go with odd
songs recorded
into a collection, curating
our hopes for connection
-- song by song by song --
our hearts wide open, nearly
dangling like frayed wires
in the world of headphones
before earbuds,

eyes closed, listening,
wondering about the story
below the mix.

#smallpoems

“The mix tape is list of quotations, a poetic form in fact: the cento is a poem made up of lines pulled from other poems. The new poet collects and remixes.”

-- Matias Viegener, from Mix Tape (The Art of Cassette Culture), edited by Thurston Moore, page 35

#smallquotes
#amreading

It was like driving straight into an image at an art gallery. A few miles ahead of me, hanging over the mountains, were some of the darkest storm clouds I have seen, with gray sheets of rain visible. I was in sun but not for long. Five bolts of lightning appeared, blasting across the horizon. One zig-zag of power after another, with such visible clarity, I had to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. And then the rain hit, the radio drowned out by the force of water falling. #smallstories

“Show up with stories. Your whole life prepares you for the big moments, so go in confidently knowing you have years of experience to your name.”

-- from Am I There Yet? (The Loop-de-Loop, Zigzagging Journey to Adulthood) by Mari Andrew, page 167

#smallquotes

"I'm on two teams," T. says as we walk. "But I get frustrated."
T. is a middle school student at our writing/history camp. He's a competitive swimmer.
"Because you want to do better?" I ask.
"No," T says, after a pause. "I'm the only black swimmer on my teams. It's lonely."
Themes of our camp have been racial segregation, civil rights and social justice issues. It's on his mind.
"You're a role model," I finally say, "paving the way for other young black swimmers."
He nods.
#smallstories

The plaintive calls
of a dog
in the night
disrupts dreams

#smallpoems

The window at morning
framed like a painting,
the red sky reflecting
back the sun's light.

Behind the frame,
my neighbors sleep
as I quietly wander through
this unexpected art gallery.

#smallpoems