Great art, great flowers
Apr. 5th, 2006 02:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pjthompsonQuote of the day:
"Great art is as irrational as great music. It is mad with its own loveliness."
—George Jean Nathan
I can verify from personal experience that [un-]great art is mad with its own [perceived] loveliness.
Writing talk of the day: And speaking of low-brow art, I had one of those nice surprises today that keeps me in this godawful game. I've had this gnarly plot point, see, right at the end of the story that's bothered me for ever-so-long. I had no idea how I was going to fix the bastard, but I kept writing towards it hoping some idea would come to me. Last week I started the chapter where I was pretty sure that plot point was going to come into play (because, like, I'm running out of things to write, so yanno). I still had no idea how to fix it, so I just let go of it and said, "I'll have to fix it in the rewrites."
Then today, out of the blue, as these things often hit me, I suddenly knew how to fix it. Ha. I love it when that happens.
What's up in the yard of the day:
The daffodils are still a presence. Though the earliest of them have faded, more have popped up. The purple iris are coming on strong, and one bright yellow one. A lovely mauve-peach gladiola has struggled up beside the lush, thick crimson leaves of the bougainvillea. The periwinkle and that other ground cover that I don't know the name of with the small, pink flower globes, are going ape squanto. The tea tree and Scotch broom that we put into the ground are very happy, as are the herbs out back. And, of course, the calla lilies are in bloom again. (Impossible to say that without doing the Katherine Hepburn imitation, although she never actually said that except in Warners Brothers cartoons.) We have white and rose-tipped calla lilies scattered here and there throughout the front and back yards. The stephanotis also remains happy.
On the drive home, one house has planted scores of multi-colored runuculas around the bases of the trees planted by the city on the grass beside the curb.
"Great art is as irrational as great music. It is mad with its own loveliness."
—George Jean Nathan
I can verify from personal experience that [un-]great art is mad with its own [perceived] loveliness.
Writing talk of the day: And speaking of low-brow art, I had one of those nice surprises today that keeps me in this godawful game. I've had this gnarly plot point, see, right at the end of the story that's bothered me for ever-so-long. I had no idea how I was going to fix the bastard, but I kept writing towards it hoping some idea would come to me. Last week I started the chapter where I was pretty sure that plot point was going to come into play (because, like, I'm running out of things to write, so yanno). I still had no idea how to fix it, so I just let go of it and said, "I'll have to fix it in the rewrites."
Then today, out of the blue, as these things often hit me, I suddenly knew how to fix it. Ha. I love it when that happens.
What's up in the yard of the day:
The daffodils are still a presence. Though the earliest of them have faded, more have popped up. The purple iris are coming on strong, and one bright yellow one. A lovely mauve-peach gladiola has struggled up beside the lush, thick crimson leaves of the bougainvillea. The periwinkle and that other ground cover that I don't know the name of with the small, pink flower globes, are going ape squanto. The tea tree and Scotch broom that we put into the ground are very happy, as are the herbs out back. And, of course, the calla lilies are in bloom again. (Impossible to say that without doing the Katherine Hepburn imitation, although she never actually said that except in Warners Brothers cartoons.) We have white and rose-tipped calla lilies scattered here and there throughout the front and back yards. The stephanotis also remains happy.
On the drive home, one house has planted scores of multi-colored runuculas around the bases of the trees planted by the city on the grass beside the curb.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 04:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 11:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 04:59 pm (UTC)Stephanotis always sounds so interesting to me, like jasmine and a blonde girl named Stephanie that I knew years ago. I don't think she'd particularly like to be stretched up on a fence with green leaves, but memory does odd things.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 09:30 am (UTC)It's got tiny leaves and hugs very close to the ground and these tiny ball-like pink clusters. I'll try to rememeber to take a picture of this weekend and post it to the blog to see if anyone can tell me what it is.
I don't think she'd particularly like to be stretched up on a fence with green leaves, but memory does odd things.
lol--It always makes me think of my friend, Stephan. He usually smelled more like tobacco smoke than jasmine, though. :-)