iStick Pico is a profoundly interesting 'kit'. To write about the box mod without mentioning the sub-ohm tank would be like writing about a car without the engine, or a bike without the tires, or a Julia without a Kiera. Impossible. Together they are more then the sum of their parts. Sure, the eLeaf box mod is called the Pico, but what makes it a must-have is the Pico with the Melo 3 Mini Tank.
Mission: Using a single 18650 hi-amp battery and a full size low-ohm coil head selection, create the smallest lung-hit capable variable wattage, temperature sensing mod for under $55 retail. Oh, and include a worthy successor to the Melo Tank. Go!
The eLeaf iStick Pico (available at Vapor Authority ) is a petite yet powerful box mod that will surprise the hell out of you. Powered by a single, replaceable, 18650 hi-amp battery (25a and above) that is accessed by a small, round, screw top cap on the right side of the device, is powerful enough to provide the user with huge lung hits with the included Melo III Mini sub-ohm tank. I'll write more about the features and specs, as well as my real world usage in a moment, but first, let's discuss the sudden rush to market with tiny box mods and tanks.
The UD Balrog, the Council of Vapor Mini Volt, the Tesla Nano, and now the eLeaf iStick Pico are the latest entries in the "tiny mod" category of electronic cigarettes (God, how I hate that term). Each of these small wonders are somewhat powerful in their own way, 40w-75w, they provide a vape experience a hundred times better than they look like they should, and they are all under $60.
Why the sudden need to push out mods that can fit in your back pocket or the smallest purses? Is it as simple as "we can", or is it something more? I honestly do not know, and I honestly didn't know how I felt about them. Until now.
The only other experience I have with a 'tiny mod' is the Balrog by UD. I love UD tanks, so I thought I would love the Balrog. And well, I do love the mod, it too is a 75w box mod, but the tank is no where as good as the Melo 3 Mini. I would, and will, grade the Balrog a B+, but as you'll see, the iStick Pico gets a Grade of A+. It's the combination of the iStick Pico mod and the Melo 3 Mini that makes this starter kit such a great kit.
What I do know is that each of these tiny devices are unique, some of a lot better than others, and each user should consider them all before buying. That said, they all perform well, producing lots of vapor and lots flavor. Thankfully for fans of eLeaf/ismoka, the Pico performs really well, and as good as the CoV Mini Volt may be, it is stuck at 40w.
If you get excited by tiny mods the iStick Pico just might be the next mod purchase you make.
millimeter, the size is 45mm x 23mm x 70.5mm). Of course, the height of 2.77 inches doesn't include the Melo III Mini tank, so tack on another 2-inches in height with the Melo attached.
Figuring out where to put the battery access cover, the adjustment buttons and even the firing button took some imagination on eLeaf's part. Whoever designed this thing deserves a raise. Let's look at where the key components are and how they fit.
Battery – The 18650 battery is slightly taller than the Pico mod, so the solution was to place the battery on the far side of the device and build a screw-in cap that fit over the excess height of the battery… solving two problems… easy access and keeping the overall size down.
Adjustment Buttons – eLeaf found an acceptable solution to the adjustment buttons by bringing them to the bottom of the device. By doing so eLeaf was able to provide adjustment buttons the size of buttons on much larger mods. Instead of shrinking the buttons down to the micro level, these buttons are a cinch to use at full size.
Display – eLeaf didn't skimp on the display either, although the display is certainly not on the level of the WISMEC made Vape-Forward devices (reviews coming soon). The screen is right up there with the size of screens on other eLeaf iSticks, so it will be easy to see the settings at a glance.
The battery life indicator is a battery icon, and as the battery discharges the icon shows you in the simplest way possible. Along with the battery indicator the display gives you the usual information; ohms reading, voltage reading, and wattage/temperature reading. While the fire button is pressed it displays the running time of the draw and the wattage/temp setting. Simple stuff, but nonetheless, important stuff.
Lastly, this display nearly disappears into mod when the OLEDS are not lit, especially with the black mod. There is an opaque glass over the OLED panel causing a total blackout. With its Stealth Feature you can black it out while using it when you need to stealth vape.
Firmware & Charging – Sitting under the display is the Micro-USB port for Firmware upgrades and recharging with the included USB cable. Firmware updates can be checked anytime if you use a PC with Windows and plug the Pico in to charge the unit.
Venting: The iStick Pico has eight vent holes in a circular shape surrounding the battery on the bottom of the device. Moderate to heaving vaping at 34-watts with the preinstalled 0.3-ohm Kanthal coil head the mod gets warm to the touch, but never too warm.
Exterior Finish – Available in Black, White, Gray, Silver and Hot Pink, the finish is a non-slip matte finish that feels pretty nice.
Like the rest of the iStick line up the iStick Pico offers a full blown temperature sensing system. Featuring VW/Bypass/TC-Ni/TC-Ti/TC-SS/TCR the iStick Pico may have overreached a little. Does a $45 mod really need the advanced technologies of the latest version of the iStick 100W TC mod? I'm not so sure, but then again I don't know many people that would turn down such technology offerings. Whether they actually use it is something else all together.
currently in (it defaults at Wattage mode), you click the + (plus) adjustment button to cycle through the various modes. If you cycle past the mode you want you can click the – (minus) adjustment button and go back.
Advanced – The Temperature Sensing Functions and other modes, i.e., TCR values, are a bit too advanced for this review. But rest easy, the accompanying manual is written in excellent English, and provides step by step instructions for complicated maneuvers.
The Melo 3 Mini tank, which I'll discuss below, comes with two full size EC Coil Heads of 0.3 and 0.5 ohms, both Kanthal, with two heating elements (wires) running in parallel. The 0.3-ohm is rated up to 80w (impossible with the Pico) and the 0.5-ohm at 100W (also impossible with the Pico). Also included are large ejuice ports, and pure organic cotton. Dry hits? Never heard of them! This tank can also use 0.15-ohm Ni200 coils, .5-ohm Ti and ECR coils heads in TC mode. The iJust2 tank can also use these coil heads.
eLeaf has decided that the tank for the Pico would be called the Melo III Mini because of the limited capacity for eliquid of only 2mL. However, after a few days of heavy usage I've come to believe that the coveted title of Melo is well earned.
The Melo III Mini features a wide-bore drip tip that is a permanent part of the top cap. The top cap unscrews for an easy top-fill method for refilling the tank. The airflow is hidden, at the bottom of the tank, and can be adjusted for full on lung hits or tight mouth-to-lung draws. The marvelous coil heads produce wicked amounts of vapor, and the flavor produced is up there with the best of the best. I was genuinely surprised by both. It also features a glass tank, extra O-Rings, and 2x coil heads.
Wattage Test – With the iStick Pico peaking at 75w both coil heads should be able to be used by the Pico at 75w since they are both rated and 80w and 100w. After about 6 hours of breaking in the 0.3-ohm coil head I pumped up the wattage to the 75w max, filled the tank with thick, Max VG eliquid and gave it a go.
Lo and Behold! At 75w the 0.3-ohm coil performed like I would have never believed! I mean we're talking warm, but not too warm, extremely flavorful vapor so thick and so satisfying I almost cried. Here I was perfectly content with 34-watts when a much better vape was waiting for me at the top. Unbelievable! And to top it off, the drip tip stayed well within the limits of heat.
I would love to be able to say that the amazing coil heads that come with the Pico kit are exclusive to the Melo 3 Mini and it was a combination of the tank and the coil heads that provided an excellent vape experience at 75W, but these coil heads are also sold separately as iJust2 replacement coils, so which component gets the real credit for allowing such a superb vape at 75w? Not the Pico because that's the power source, and 75w from the Pico or a Presa is 75w. Another wattage test was needed to find out.
I set the iStick 100W TC to 75w to first make sure that watt for watt I was going to get the same experience. And I did. So, up to 80w, the maximum suggested wattage…At 80w the vape was barely different from the 75w, but after 3 lung hits it got a little too warm for me.
Next, I swapped the coil head for the 0.5-ohm 100W rated, and started at 80w, which was similar to the .3-ohm vape, but you could tell there was more to be had. Up at 90w I got an identical vape of the 0.3 at 75W on the iStick Pico. Up at 100w, the maximum rating for both the coil head and the iStick 100W TC, and it was a glorious vape. I should note this was the glass ceiling for me, I had never vaped a prebuilt coil head at 100w before. I will never say 100W is a limit I would never need.
Decision: Common sense tells me the coil head is the reason for the 80w and 100w vaping pleasure, but without the bottom, hidden, airflow and the wide-bore drip tip, I'm not so sure I could have reached these heights. I think I see a few more Melo 3 Mini's in my future.
First, the battery life is much better than I thought it would be. I easily refilled the tank with a High VG eJuice 4 times before having to swap out the battery while vaping in the neighborhood of 35w. I have no issues with battery life using Sony VT4's. However, I decided to stay at 75w for a while, and the battery life drained much faster. Later, using the Melo 3 Mini on the iStick 100W TC for a while, at 75w, I noticed the battery life drained just as quickly. So, while the Melo 3 Mini and the coil heads that come with it can certainly vape at the maximum wattage of the Pico, you can expect battery life to behave accordingly.
Despite the diminutive footprint the iStick Pico performs as well as devices 3 or 4 times its size, and there is no reason it shouldn't. This little guy can output up to 75w, the Melo 3 Mini coil heads are full size and low ohm, and the airflow combined with the wide-bore drip tip provide all the tools you need for one powerful vape at 35w or 75w.
Who Would Use the iStick Pico?
I made the mistake of thinking the WISMEC Presa 100W TC would be aimed at mainstream users despite the 30mm atomizer that comes with it, and the manually adjustable TCR mode. I won't make that mistake this time. The iStick Pico would definitely appeal to mainstream vapers looking for a small, but performance heavy, mod and tank, but it would also appeal to advanced users wanting powerful tools to fine-tune his or her vape, as well as a small footprint, not to mention high-wattage vaping with ease. I am very surprised to see preorders being taken at $35 for the mod with Melo 3 Mini. With performance like this, the iStick Pico is easily worth twice that.
Recommendation: Don't buy the Pico without the Melo 3. Together they create magic.
Want an eLeaf iStick Pico now?


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Home / Books / Subjects / Children's Books / Growing Up and Facts of Life / Friendship, Social Skills and School Life / Self-Esteem and Self-Respect / What to Do When You Worry Too Much: A Kid's Guide to Overcoming Anxiety (What-to-Do Guides for Kids)
What to Do When You Worry Too Much: A Kid's Guide to Overcoming Anxiety (What-to-Do Guides for Kids)
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Categories: Books, Children's Books, Emotions and Feelings, Friendship, Social Skills and School Life, Growing Up and Facts of Life, Self-Esteem and Self-Respect, Social Skills, Subjects
What to Do When You Worry Too Much is an interactive self-lend a hand book designed to lead 6-12 year olds and their parents throughout the cognitive-behavioral techniques most steadily used within the remedy of generalised anxiety. Engaging, encouraging, and easy to follow, this book educates, motivates, and empowers children to work towards change.It features a note to oldsters by psychologist and creator Daybreak Huebner, PhD.
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Dawn Huebner
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Bonnie Matthews, Illustrator
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The Happy Pear: Recipes for Happiness: Delicious, Easy Vegetarian Food for the Whole Family
Nadiya's Kitchen: Over 100 simple, delicious, family recipes from the Bake Off winner and bestselling author of Time to…
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As we enter into this third and final journey down the Rhine, I thought what better lens to peer through than that of the pyrotechnics of the Ring. The Ring calls for an enormous array of special effects to create the worlds of heroes, gods and monsters and Wagner himself was very preoccupied with the importance of effects (see image below). Two of the biggest effects in our Ring are Brünnhilde's fiery resting place in Walküre, and the conflagration of the world at the end of Götterdämmerung. Fire is a vital and very exciting part of telling the story of the Ring.
Wagner's stage machinery for the inaugural Ring cycle in 1876 and the swimming of the Rhinemaidens.
Fire in the Ring is overseen by two incredibly experienced members of our stage crew in the electrics department: Geoff Heron who is in charge of pyrotechnic effects (sparks, flashes, explosions, etc.), and Jim Eldredge who is in charge of the live flames onstage. Both gentlemen have gone through extensive training and certification, being licensed at the federal, state and local levels. Federal and state licenses cover the individual, and local licenses cover each event.
The most intense of the pyrotechnic effects in the Ring is the death of Fafner, our larger-than-life trash compactor/dragon who is protecting the gold. Siegfried battles Fafner and, in this production, that means taking down a two-ton robot. You can see more photos of Fafner here, and Geoff Heron is responsible for all of those fabulous sparks that come off the dragon each time there's a sword blow. Each of these spark effects is triggered by Geoff using a handheld remote control from which he fires a small receiver, capable of taking 6 charges. The charges set off a "squib," a small firework intended to give off sparks rather than explode. The squib is a mixture of titanium and black powder, and there are twelve of these on Fafner, six on his body and six on his head, the latter for the final death sequence. Geoff has a monitor that shows the battle scene and he ensures that the squibs are set off at exactly the time Fafner is struck by Siegfried.
Setting the charges for the Fafner fight. 1) the unit that triggers the charges; 2) Geoff Heron with the remote control unit; 3) the 'squib'; 4) the sparks flying in the fight!
This spark mechanism is very similar to the sparks that are triggered in Götterdämmerung when the Norns' cables break, but are completely different from the sparks that emanate from Siegfried forging the sword Notung. Those sparks are old-school, coming from a flint and a grinding wheel!
Geoff Heron, tucked away just off the proscenium at the start of Götterdämmerung, preparing to activate the sparks of the Norns' cables breaking.
Geoff Heron began at the Opera during the Adler years, before leaving to work in special effects in the movie world on films such as Pirates of the Caribbean, Mission Impossible, Indiana Jones and Star Wars. He is now back with the Opera and, although the scope of the explosions may not be quite as large as in Hollywood blockbusters (he tells me that they would build safety bunkers on the film sets!), there is still a critical role that pyrotechnic effects play in punctuating a work like the Ring, and the live element adds a particularly critical focus.
Geoff and Jim tell me that the fire at the end of Walküre is tied for the biggest fire effect with that in Tannhäuser from 2007; the latter was not as much fire volume, but it did go on for 20 minutes longer and had two principals inside it the whole time. But the Walküre fire is very significant.
The big fire shows: Walküre (2018) and Tannhäuser (2007).
Safety is paramount for all pyrotechnic and fire effects, involving many steps from the design of the effects, to the permitting through the fire department, to flame proofing sets, to adding fire retardant to any costumes that come within 10 feet of the fire, to having fire-watch personnel on hand. The fire watch are crew members trained in fire safety and suppression. For the Walküre fire, there are five crew members on fire watch, armed with fire blankets and fire extinguishers just in case. In addition, the fire department sends a fire marshal who is on hand during any production that uses fire and who checks all the connections before the performance (using the good old soap and water test). And, for those operating the fire effects, if they are not 100% assured of safety in the moment, they will abort.
A fire blanket on hand if needed. This is actually the one used to douse the fire at the end of Götterdämmerung. It is just a pure wool blanket without any chemicals in it.
I was surprised to learn from Jim that the fire in Walküre only uses 4 propane bottles—the kind you would use for your gas grill. The fire at the end of Götterdämmerung only uses one bottle.
However, before getting to the flame bars, the gas goes through a process quite unlike your gas grill. First, the electric ignition box lights the pilot. Only when that pilot is lit by Jim and confirmed as lit by the computer, is Jim able to open the gas lines, ensuring that gas cannot escape. The gas then goes through a diaphragm regulator which sets the overall level of the flame for that particular effect—Walküre both demands more fire and the gas also has to travel up higher vertically, so the pressure is that much greater. An electronic proportional valve allows more nuanced regulation of flow, such as when the fires swell in Walküre after Wotan walks through them. And then come the accumulators: four large tanks under the stage deck that ensure that the propane is gaseous by the time it reaches the firebars and not still liquid. This is the major difference from your home gas set-up, and allows far much more fire from much less propane, maybe 4 x 5 gallon tanks rather than 4 x 100lbs tanks otherwise (about 5 times as much total gas). The accumulators are only used for the big fire effects. Things like the small downstage fire at the start of Walküre are fed directly from the 5-gallon propane tanks.
Jim Eldredge with the propane tanks and the console he uses to activate the fire sequence.
The sequence for the upstage conflagration at the end of Götterdämmerung. 1) the electronic ignition box; 2) the diaphragm regulator; 3) the accumulators; 4) the fire!
Jim's predisposition for the mechanics of fire creation is somewhat genetic. His father is an HVAC specialist, and that kind of plumbing is completely the basis for the fire plumbing that Jim does on stage. As with Geoff, much of Jim's specific training was on the job here on the Opera stage, and also through the Union, Local 16 of the IATSE. Jim speaks with great fondness of his training with Peter Stolz, a long-time pyrotechnic specialist at San Francisco Opera. Jim had worked on the television pilot of Nash Bridges with Peter.
Jim and Geoff's work comes together in wonderful synchronicity during Rheingold and the disappearing effect of Alberich in Niebelheim. These moments are a simultaneous coming together of fire, pyrotechnics, and liquid nitrogen (liquid nitrogen is used for all of the billowing smoke in the Ring). For this moment, Jim sets up the fire effects—a direct feed from a propane tank that uses a continual spark to ignite the gas when opened, thus causing the little mushroom fireballs. Geoff triggers the charges to coincide with the flash-pot, and then the carpentry crew activates the trap that takes Alberich down under the stage. As with so many moments of the Ring, it's an incredible symbiosis of multiple elements coming together in one impactful whole.
Alberich preparing to disappear in Rheingold.
Geoff and Jim's most memorable fire moments? Geoff's is Act 2 of La Gioconda from 1988 and the battle on board a ship that involved huge amounts of fire and flame. Jim's is the Tannhäuser tree from 2007 which sets on fire but then had to extinguish immediately in one go.
Favorite moments of our pyrotechnic specialists: La Gioconda (1988) and Tannhäuser (2007).
Fire and special effects onstage are two of the elements that give us that sense of total immersion into something very real and very powerful. The experience behind our pyrotechnics work is immense and Geoff and Jim ensure that we see the most spectacular effects in the safest possible way.


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TAMKO Donates $100,000 To Red Cross To Assist With Hurricane Harvey Disaster Relief
September 06, 2017 12:59 ET | Source: TAMKO Building Products, Inc.
Joplin, Missouri, Sept. 06, 2017 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) -- TAMKO Building Products, Inc. has proudly donated $100,000 to the American Red Cross to assist with their Hurricane Harvey disaster relief efforts in Houston and the surrounding area. TAMKO presented the funds at the Joplin, Missouri Red Cross office on September 6.
"Thanks to generous partners like TAMKO, the American Red Cross is there, providing food, shelter and comfort to people affected by Hurricane Harvey," said Stacy Burks, Executive Director of the American Red Cross Southern Missouri. "We have deployed over a dozen local [Joplin-area] volunteers. They join more than 3,000 Red Cross disaster workers who will continue to support families as they begin to recover and rebuild."
In the past, TAMKO has donated to the Red Cross to assist with disaster recovery from tornadoes that ravaged areas where TAMKO operates, including a deadly EF-5 tornado in 2011 that struck the town of Joplin where TAMKO is headquartered.
TAMKO's President and CEO David Humphreys, said, "The devastating effects of Hurricane Harvey are heartbreaking. TAMKO and its employees have witnessed first-hand what the American Red Cross can do to help in these types of disaster situations. We make this donation in the spirit of kindness that Houston and its neighbors so desperately need now."
About TAMKO
TAMKO® Building Products, Inc. is one of the nation's largest independent manufacturers of residential and commercial roofing products (including Heritage® Asphalt Shingles and Metalworks® Steel Shingles), decking and railing products, waterproofing, cements, and coatings. With more than 70 years in the industry, TAMKO's success is the direct result of teamwork and enduring relationships with customers, suppliers and employees. Privately owned, TAMKO is committed to producing top-quality products with excellent product support. For more information about TAMKO, visit our website at www.tamko.com.
A photo accompanying this announcement is available at http://www.globenewswire.com/NewsRoom/AttachmentNg/7ea7a056-e685-4712-acaa-684bce5e17f9
Ron Cook
TAMKO Building Products, Inc.
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Don't distract me. I'm writing!
I was writing a snow scene once for a story I was working on. Easy, I know a lot about snow. I have experienced it. Worked in blizzards and waded through snow drifts up passed my knees. The sensory aspects of winter, crisp and clear, cold in the nose and easing its way through the layers of clothes and always finding the thin spot.
Why was it so hard to write that scene? Because at the time I was in Northern Queensland in Australia, in the middle of summer. The temperature was up around mid 90º, which wasn't actually the worst part, which was the humidity, at about 70% it made breathing hard work.
My mouse pad which was destroyed in about a month by being in a continual state of dampness, the sweat dribbling down my arm onto the edge. The mouse, with the old style track ball inside, needed cleaning every couple of days as it picked up the detritus from the mouse pad then stopped working until the fluffy crud had been extracted.
I persevered, pulling the idea of snow and cold from my memories and got the scene written. I was happy with what I wrote but it was probably not the way it would have been had it been -4º outside with snow flurries beating on the window.
No matter how much you want to write there will always be distractions.
My wife's overly cute cat loves jumping onto the desk, wrap his front paws around my mouse arm and falling asleep. And I don't have the heart to shift him. I am stuck there, still trying to write, while he snoozes; until he wakes and wanders off to some other cat adventure leaving me to get the circulation back into my arm.
I cannot lock myself away to stop being interrupted which, anyone with a cat will tell you, doesn't work anyway. I have to work through and do the best I can. Which is all any of us can do.
There is always something to distract us from what we want to do. If you fight it you get disappointed or angry. If you insist of complete solitude then ten minutes in that will be the day the toilet backs up.
If life has taught me anything it is to roll with the punches. There is no point in getting stressed about things. It is much better to deal with them and move on.
I write because I enjoy it, and I am sure most people are the same. I don't want it to become a chore, something that I have to do and get stressed when I can't.
Most of the pressures we put on ourselves are artificial. So take the distractions as a normal part of life, deal with them, embrace them or ignore them and be happier for it. It took me a long time to learn that lesson.


Smell is one of the most important human senses. Smell has a direct correlation to the limbic system in our brain, where emotions and memories are stored. Harnessing the power of smell via aromatherapy has emotional, psychological, and physical benefits.
Essential oils have been around since ancient times, going back to 2,800 BC, as recorded in Egyptian manuscripts. They were used as medicine, in religious ceremony, for skin care, to cover up foul odors, and to purify the air. The modern history of aromatherapy began with the French chemist, René Maurice Gattefossé. Gattefossé coined the term after an accident in his lab led to the discovery of the healing powers of Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia). Essential oils possess profound therapeutic value to support the human body in functional health-giving ways.
Rely on the knowledge of the Progressive Health Center's Certified Aromatherapist for your holistic and/or clinical aromatherapy needs. We utilize only the highest quality essential oils and evidence-based recommendations. "Aromas are effective even during sleep or unawareness of their presence. Everyone is capable of deriving benefit from aromatherapy" (Price, 2012).
Price, S. P.-L. (2012). Aromatherapy for Health Professionals – Fourth Edition. worldwide: Churchill Livingstone Elsevier.


In light of the embarrassingly barren selection of new releases this week, the focus of this segment will be on the only noteworthy title, Cosmopolis. Director David Cronenberg has been responsible for some classic films over the years, my personal favorites being Videodrome, Scanners, and History of Violence. His newest film starring Twilight actor, Robert Pattinson, has generated mixed reviews, but still seems to capture that cerebral style Cronenberg is known for. Unfortunately, I haven't had the pleasure of watching this yet, but am truly excited to get the chance this week. Inside you will find information on the Blu-ray, an official synopsis of the film, and some theatrical trailers.
Citizens of Cosmopolis: An exclusive in-depth documentary (approx. 106 min).
New York City, not-too-distant-future: Eric Packer, a 28 year-old finance golden boy dreaming of living in a civilization ahead of this one, watches a dark shadow cast over the firmament of the Wall Street galaxy, of which he is the uncontested king. As he is chauffeured across midtown Manhattan to get a haircut at his father's old barber, his anxious eyes are glued to the yuan's exchange rate: it is mounting against all expectations, destroying Eric's bet against it. Eric Packer is losing his empire with every tick of the clock. Meanwhile, an eruption of wild activity unfolds in the city's streets. Petrified as the threats of the real world infringe upon his cloud of virtual convictions, his paranoia intensifies during the course of his 24-hour cross-town odyssey.Packer starts to piece together clues that lead him to a most terrifying secret: his imminent assassination.
Cronenberg revisits subjects that fascinate him: how the organic and the psychological are inextricably intertwined, society's anxieties and phobias, and letting repressed impulses and paranoia run wild. COSMOPOLIS is a culmination of his masterpieces that addresses the alarming global financial crisis of today's world.It is a hauntingly prophetic fable that turns the future into history and suggests that the archaic might be our eerie future.ROBERT PATTINSON.


Stop the panic attack from online wholesale flowers not showing up on time! Twice this week I have received frantic phone calls from customers in utter panic with the same exact issue - "My wholesale/bulk flowers I ordered online didn't get here for my event, can you please help me find flowers?" This can be very stressful when you are handling the floral needs yourself for an event or wedding. Flowers need more care than one would imagine, and that includes the ordering and shipping of the flowers. Spedale's Florist and Wholesale offers Farm Direct Wholesale Flowers each and every day. Ordering locally from Spedale's in Lafayette you can be assured that your flowers are not just another bulk order from an online retailer. All we do, each and everyday, is FLOWERS. Retail or Wholesale, we can handle your floral needs. We will monitor your order to assure that your wholesale and bulk orders will be in town and on time when you need it. We have multiple backup farms ready to ship at all times. Most events are planned in advance and it is always advisable to place your wholesale and bulk order at least three to four weeks in advance. However, we also have the ability to Fedex overnight flowers from all over the world for next day pickup (if ordered by noon) to Lafayette or anywhere in the United States. Ordering fresh flowers from Spedale's assures you of very competitive pricing and the highest quality premium flowers. So next time you are in the market to purchase large quantities of fresh flowers, roses, greens, or green plants, please consider allowing Spedale's to quote a price for you. We pride ourselves on quality and service. We will do whatever is necessary to help your event be a success. You can access our website portal via https://www.spedales.com/product/weddings/wedding-flowers-package-specials/farm-direct-wholesale-flowers-and-bulk-flowers or https://spedaleswholesale.com. Feel free to send any inquiries to sales@spedales.com or call 337-233-4404. Due to the nature of these orders, we prefer to take your order via email or phone so we can discuss the details and make sure you get exactly what you need at the best possible price. Every order is a special order and is treated as such.
As always, all of us at Spedale's in Lafayette Louisiana want you to have a wonderful experience working with flowers. It is our life and we love it. We are here for you in any way that we can be.


The prospect of Wayne Smith joining the England coaching team seems inevitable following the decision of Saracens head coach Andy Farrell to turn down the opportunity to be part of Stuart Lancaster's set-up.
Farrell said on Thursday he had decided to remain with Saracens "for the foreseeable future" after much soul-searching as talks stalled between the club and the Rugby Football Union over the level of compensation that would be required to buy him out of the remaining two years of his contract.
Smith, the former All Blacks coach who has declared an interest in working with England once his commitments with Waikato Chiefs have ended in September, is understood to now be at the top of the RFU's list to bolster Lancaster's coaching team, which already includes forwards coach Graham Rowntree.
Lancaster, who has just returned from a short holiday, is likely to set up a meeting with Smith as soon as possible to establish whether they will be comfortable working together and to discuss the potential role.
Unless there is a change in circumstances, Smith, who was a key member of Graham Henry's management team that masterminded New Zealand's World Cup win last October, will miss England's three-Test tour of South Africa.
The Daily Telegraph understands that Lancaster therefore intends to appoint an interim replacement for Farrell for the South Africa trip, with Clermont Auvergne assistant coach Alex King under consideration.
It's a family affair, or is it?
King, the former Wasps and England fly-half, has emerged as a hugely impressive assistant to Vern Cotter at the Top 14 side, who have just reached the Heineken Cup semi-finals following their comprehensive victory over Saracens last Sunday.
The only sticking point may be King's availability, as Clermont's domestic campaign is likely to run until the start of the tour if they reach the final of the Top 14.
London Irish assistant coach Mike Catt, who has been linked with a position at Bath next season, is also thought to be among the likely contenders.
Lancaster is expected to ask several other coaches – including former England head coach Brian Ashton – to join the set-up as he intends to take an extended tour party of 40 players to South Africa.
Farrell's decision to remain with his club is the first major setback for Lancaster, who had made no secret of his desire to retain the services of the former rugby league and union international through to the 2015 World Cup.
Sources had indicated, following Lancaster's appointment as head coach, that Farrell was keen to join the England set-up.
And the RFU clearly opened negotiations with Saracens in the belief that it would get its man once compensation had been agreed.
Those negotiations became protracted, however, before Farrell brought the matter to a close on Thursday morning when the Saracens players were told at a team meeting that he would be staying with the club.
Brendan Venter, the Saracens technical director, said on Thursday night that Farrell's family circumstances and his strong working relationship with the club's director of rugby, Mark McCall, had been the overriding factors.
"It was such a hard decision for Andy because he enjoyed working with Stuart and Graham but he also had a strong relationship with Mark and our other coaches. Mark's opinion and advice is very valuable to Andy. He also has a young family; I am sure he would be away from home too much with this job.
"Without the facts, people will think Andy is crazy as this was the national job. But when you get the facts and put yourself in his shoes for a moment, you realise what a level-headed guy he is.
RFU chief executive Ian Ritchie said he respected Farrell's decision to remain at Saracens while also recognising that he had been an important part of England's coaching team during the Six Nations.
"We will continue to work hard with Stuart Lancaster to build a world-class coaching team as we look towards the Rugby World Cup in 2015," Ritchie said.


text:
Category: Current
Posted on June 25, 2012 in Current, Fiction, Philosophy, Poetry
A Philosopher, Painter, and Writer Walk Into A Bar
Below is an email thread between a philosopher, a painter and a writer. Chronologically it starts at the bottom.
"I think paintng is about our most subtle emotional response in our lives, you can paint anything, really, all our feelings."
The Harwood Museum in Taos currently has an exhibition of Agnes Martin's abstracts. Several letters are also displayed. Along with the quote above Agnes talks about the process of creating art. Agnes would spend 3 months doing 100 paintings, just to destroy them all. She accepted this as a logical part of the process of creating great art.
It seems that Agnes believes art works both ways, as Dan wants to do. Her intention is not just to paint her feelings, but for us to experience those feeling through our experience of her painting them. Her destroyed paintings may be anaologous to Edmundson's understanding of the current role of rap, rock-n-roll, and pop music. She excoriates a photographer friend for wasting her talent and the all too short time and opportunities life offers us, by settling for mediocre photography.
"I am by trade a novelist. It is, I think, a harmless trade, though it is not everywhere considered a respectable one. Novelists put dirty language into the mounths of their characters, and they show these characters fornicating or going to the toilet. Moreover, it is not a useful (original italics) trade, as is that of the carpenter or the pastry cook. The novelist passes the time for you between one useful action and another; he helps to fill the gaps that appear in the serious fabric of living. He is a mere entertainer, a kind of clown…." And later in the same essay: "…an optimistic view of human life is as valid as a pessimistic one. But whose life do we mean- that of the entire race or that of the inconspicuous fragment of it each of us calls 'myself'? I think I am an optimist about man: I think his race will survive, I think- however slowly or painfully- he will solve his major problems just because he is aware of them. As for myself, all I can say is that I am growing old, my sight is blurring, my teeth always need attention, I cannot eat or drink as much as I once did, I am more and more frequently bored. I cannot remember names, my reason works slowly, I have spasms of envy of the young and of resentment at my own imminent decay. If I had a burning faith in personal survival, this gloom os senescence might be greatly mitigated. But I have lost this faith and am unlikely to recover it. Sometimes I have a desire for immediate annihilation, but the urge to remain alive always supervenes. There are consolations- love, literature, music, the colorful life of the southern city in which I spend much of my time- but these are very fitful."
Anthony Burgess, in a recent New Yorker essay commenting on the long-term understanding of the movie version of his novel The Clockwork Orange.
Burgess here laments an interpretation of his work, one that obscures and eclipses his art's ability to evoke the emotions he intended.
Ed emphasizes the importance of art for our lives, our culture, the continued viability of civilization itself. Burgess thinks it will all work out in the end, though he's not willing to speculate how. Agnes, I think, would have been aghast at Burgesses late-in-life shrugging of his shoulders, of Edmundson's students' lack of will. I tend to think Edmundson is right, most people are content to be, are not willing to put out out the effort to attempt to understand. And why should they? Have the philosophers given any definitive answers? Isn't religion being made a fool by science? Isn't the experience of visual art more demanding than pop music? (pop music = Kincaid = romance/mystery/thriller novels/movies?)
The three of us are having a conversation about the experience of art. Ed rgihtly points out that we each bring unique cultural baggage not just to the experience, but also to our attempt to understand that experience, and our understanding of the explanation/articulation of that experience. And none of us got very far without invoking someone else's understanding.
Ala Mode to that is the fact that only a small portion of our brethren ever think about such things, and that we are doing so probably adds to our sense of uniqueness in a perverse manner, even if we profess to advocate the importance of these fundamental experiences for human existence and meaning. Note I didn't say aesthetic experience wasn't important to our brethren, only that they didn't dwell on it or maybe even care about that importance. Pass the hot wings.
I accepted that what I enjoy writing at best will be appreciated by a small audience. After workshopping and finishing my first novel I decided I needed to write a page-turner to get noticed. Maybe after appearing in print more I can then retreat into what is important for me. My rationale is that there are so many people in the world there will always be an audience for even my erudition. But I am failing. My new book languishes as I sit in front of the computer and out comes a poem or a story, as if I had been infectd by the same virus I see inhabiting Peggy. And that's fine.
I guess my virus is a weak version of Agnes Martin. I'll take it, and live with the fact no one wants to pay me for it.
From: "Ed Lawry"
To: "Peter Stravlo"
Cc: "Dan Ellis"
Sent: Monday, June 4, 2012 9:56:15 AM
Subject: Re: artist and audience 02, modernists via Kant
Dan and Peter,
Just read this after I posted my latest email. Edmundson says a lot more about the appreciation of art (and says it more entertainingly!) than I did.
The Chronicle Review
Can Music Save Your Life?
Tim MacPherson, Cultura, Aurora Photos
By Mark Edmundson
Who hasn't at least once had the feeling of being remade through music? Who is there who doesn't date a new phase in life to hearing this or that symphony or song? I heard it—we say—and everything changed. I heard it, and a gate flew open and I walked through. But does music constantly provide revelation—or does it have some other effects, maybe less desirable?
For those of us who teach, the question is especially pressing. Our students tend to spend hours a day plugged into their tunes. Yet, at least in my experience, they are reluctant to talk about music. They'll talk about sex, they'll talk about drugs—but rock 'n' roll, or whatever else they may be listening to, is off-limits. What's going on there?
When I first heard Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" in 1965, not long after it came out, I was amazed. At the time, I liked to listen to pop on the radio—the Beatles were fine, the Stones were better. But nothing I'd heard until then prepared me for Dylan's song. It had all the fluent joy of a pop number, but something else was going on too. This song was about lyrics: language. Dylan wasn't chanting some truism about being in love or wanting to get free or wasted for the weekend. He had something to say. He was exasperated. He was pissed off. He'd clearly been betrayed by somebody, or a whole nest of somebodies, and he was letting them have it. His words were exuberantly weird and sometimes almost embarrassingly inventive—and I didn't know what they all meant. "You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat / Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat." Chrome horse? Diplomat? What?
I sensed Dylan's disdain and his fury, but the song suggested way more than it declared. This was a sidewinder of a song—intense and angry, but indirect and riddling too. I tried to hear every line—Dylan's voice seemed garbled, and our phonograph wasn't new. I can still see myself with my head cocked to the spindle, eyes clenched, trying to shut out the room around me as I strained to grab the words from the harsh melodious wind of the song. "Ain't it hard when you discovered that / He really wasn't where it's at / After he took from you everything he could steal."
I couldn't listen to that song enough. I'd liked music before that. I'd liked stuff I'd heard on the radio; I'd even liked the Beethoven and the Mahler that my father played at top volume on Sunday mornings, though I never would have admitted as much to him. But Dylan was different. Other music made me temporarily happy, or tranquil, or energized. But this music made me puzzled. There was something in the grooves that I wasn't getting. There was something in the mix of the easy, available pop hook and the grating voice and elliptical words that signaled in the direction of experiences I hadn't had yet, and maybe never would. The song made me feel that life was larger than I had thought and made me want to find out what I was missing.
That song kicked open a door in my mind—to borrow a phrase Bruce Springsteen used to describe his own experience with it. But to be honest, in time that door may have gotten a little rusty from lack of use. Because really, after I heard "Like a Rolling Stone" on the radio and bought the single and listened to it 50 or so times, I put it away. I never went out to cop a Dylan album. I never even thought much about the guy for the next five years.
I went back to what you might call music-as-usual: using music to tune my moods. It was as though I was myself an instrument, and I was playing away, but in a perpetual state of disharmony. I was out of whack with myself, out of tune (at 16, who isn't?), living in a mash of discordant feelings and thoughts.
I wanted things, a lot of things—but I wasn't always sure what they were. I wanted a girlfriend, but after a certain point, I didn't much want any of the girls at school (nor they me). I wanted to be an athlete, but games often bored me, and the school jocks could be hard to take. I wanted to be right with God, but when the time came to go to confession, I often had so many sins on the docket that I despaired of getting them lined up properly before the judgment seat.
So I had a lot of static inside. My inner life resembled what my aged radio—red, the size of a toaster, and badly chipped—emitted when I swirled the dial from one pop station to another. It gave off the sound of chaos and the feel of the crackling void. But soon I arrived safely on the shores of WMEX, and there was Arnie Woo Woo Ginsburg, up until all hours, ready to maître d' me into the sounds of the Beach Boys, the Beatles, Jan and Dean, the Stones.
Then all of my jarring and jangling emotions went into the radio and came back out making melodious sense. It was a little like what happened when my mother washed my clothes. She'd trudge down to the basement with my raunchy jeans and T-shirts, my stained football pants and jerseys, and an hour or two later, there came my laundry back in pleasant white piles. The football stuff was folded into a mound that looked like a fluffy loaf of just-baked bread.
Of course, some of the songs I listened to were sad, but sadness lies latent in the soul. We are always sad to some degree. The sadness in a Leonard Cohen song or the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood" was different from the sadness that inhabited my spirit. The musical sadness was melodious: It had a shape, it made sense, it flowed along almost predictable lines. I won't say that musical sadness exorcized my sorrows, but the music gave my sadness a benign expression. It put my sadness in an attractive box. It let me feel sadness from a distance. I experienced my grief over my younger sister's death, which had taken place a few years before, but I was able to contemplate that grief at the same time. It's difficult to express.
Music makes life melodious—assuming that the music has a melody. But life is often jarring. Pop music suggests, by its easy, pleasurable repetitions, that life makes sense. We can pretend, for the duration of a song, that there is harmony in our lives. The music of Beethoven or of Coltrane is also patterned, but the patterns are harder to find. You have to listen closely—you have to have an educated ear. You feel that you're almost collaborating with the composer when you seek out the subtle echoes and indirect recapitulations. Life makes some sense to Beethoven and Coltrane, but it is a difficult, remote way that is not available to all and that can wink out in an instant.
In Beethoven's late quartets, the coherence can be unbearably elusive. Is this music all about theme and variation? I once asked my father, hoping to grab his attention in the midst of something by Brahms. All music is theme and variation, he said. But how attenuated that variation can be! We might listen to a piece of music pining for a phrase that will connect us to something we have heard before, something that reveals an overall structure. In Coltrane's late work, I sometimes can find no consistency of theme, no unity of sound, try as I might. I wonder if his impulse was to turn against sense-making through music and declare life to be incoherent—"a tale told by an idiot," as the poet says, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
Usually, though, music gives harmony to feeling and suggests a sense to life. I wonder: Do we sometimes go to music to hide from our fears that the world makes no sense at all? Do we seek in music's harmonies a way to stabilize an inner life that is incoherent and strange? Do we use music as a way to soothe ourselves into a kind of torpor, to quell in ourselves what we cannot understand?
Music does sometimes kick a door open inside the mind, but it also sometimes insulates the house, secures it from all wayward feelings and thoughts. And when a song does seem to kick a door open, we frequently listen to it over and over again until it loses its power and all of its passion is spent.
The philosopher Allan Bloom didn't much care for the effect that music had on his students. He believed that they used music to counterfeit experience, in particular to fabricate joy. He said that music—rock music especially—reproduced in listeners the feelings of triumph that come from completing a great work of art or doing a heroic deed or making a conceptual breakthrough in science or philosophy—or even finding the true love of one's life. Students, Bloom said, found in rock music a way to fabricate those emotions, and then they often took the logical next step and asked themselves, implicitly, Why bother going further? Why should one actually do the deed and put in all the work leading up to it, when one can have the reward simply by putting on some music or showing up at a concert?
Bloom compared the Dionysian experience of rock music to the experience of drugs: He seems to have had hallucinogens in mind. After a heavy dose of LSD, in which the world becomes a wondrous kaleidoscope of sound and sight and even thought, what can everyday experience possibly offer? It manifests itself as a gray world of sameness and routine, nothing like the Wonderland one has recently left. People who have dabbled with psychedelics often trudge through wearisome lives that never quite meet their expectations.
Just so, perhaps music lovers feel alive only when they are plugged in to their tunes: The rest of the time they have only themselves, and they are, in themselves, insufficient.
Bloom is a student of Plato, and his critique of students' music echoes that philosopher's and also the later views of Nietzsche. Plato thought that music had a critical educative function. To Plato the soul is, by its nature, split into three parts. There is the rational part, the spirited, and the appetitive. What's wanted is to bring those parts into harmony, with reason ascendant. And music can do a great deal to stimulate that harmony. Melodious music helps to create a melodious soul. There is need for martial music, for Plato: Warriors must be inspired. What there is no need for is music that sends the soul into ecstasy, that lets appetite usurp reason and so makes a man or woman into a beast.
Nietzsche was a great lover of ecstatic music, at least when he was young. His drug of choice was Wagner, on whom he wrote copiously. Wagner's music gave him a Dionysian thrill. It took him above the sobrieties of his classical education, churchly background, and tamped-down temperament. But did Wagner visit the same magic on the crowd? Sure, Nietzsche maybe needed to loosen up a bit. But did the already-wallowing common man need to unbind himself further from civilized restraint? In time, Nietzsche thought not. By the end of his life, he was drawn to light opera—Puccini, music of no overwhelming consequence at all.
My students, like Allan Bloom's, live inside music. Their musical lives may well be their spiritual lives. It is hard to say, because they don't talk about music very eagerly. In class I can get a conversation going about God with no problem. And students love talking about alcohol and its effects on the human mind and spirit, theirs in particular. A conversation about sex is easy to start and quickly goes way further than I'd imagine—and sometimes further than I want. But try asking about music.
Students listen to it for hours a day. They trot around the university grounds with headphones on; they plug into their tunes when they sit at their computers. Music, usually rap, is the iron-hard heart of their parties. There is surely a competition, at least among English-major types, about who listens to the most recondite bands. Sometimes students name them in discussions: the Fruit Bats, the Shins (now no longer obscure), Fatkid Dodgeball, Pimp the Cat, Full Throttle Aristotle, Disgruntled Sherpa Project. I sometimes make up a few myself and throw them into the mix.
But when I ask what role music plays in their lives or why they listen to what they do, there is silence. When I tell them what Plato had to say about music and that he'd disapprove of almost everything they listen to for being far too raucous, far too stirring, far too close to anarchy, they bristle and tell me that Plato is wrong. I ask them if listening to hard-core rap might influence their attitudes toward sex and money—major themes in rap, of course. They tell me that I'm being silly—which to me is a little like saying that the food you eat has nothing to do with how your body feels and how it functions.
But I speculate, and my speculation is this: Music brings drama to their lives. It makes them feel more vital, vigorous, intense. Because—students tell me this all the time—much of their real life is a mildly toxic combination of boring and stressful. Music turns boredom into drama and anxiety into equanimity. Listening to little-known cool bands puts young people in a club in which they can feel special and singular. It is cool to be a fan of an up-and-coming band—you can look down on others who join the jam too late. My students need the melody and the preciousness that music brings.
For life now is hard. It is as hard for my students as it was for me when I was their age. They are heaped with expectations. They are pressured to perform. Many are majoring in subjects that do not interest them at all. They are in their courses of study to succeed, to secure jobs. They grind away, in econ, say. Their prospects are shaky—they are worried about what is to come.
Does music save their lives? No, it preserves them, much as it did mine. Music allows you to tolerate dullness, muted, icy boredom. Music is a balm—a cortisone spread.
I say this because of the disparity between the wildness and freedom of the music and the lives my students live and want to live. This is the generation of no generation gap. These students are busy cloning their parents. They need music as a world elsewhere, just as I needed mine. And if that is true, no wonder the kids don't like to talk analytically about their tunes.
Can music still kick open a door in your mind? I'm nearly sure of it. No doubt every day numberless young people—and a few older ones too—have the kind of experience that I did with "Like a Rolling Stone."
But it's worth asking what kind of door that song kicked open. What room, exactly, did I enter? Looking back, I guess the song helped me get excited about the possibilities in words. For what made the song different wasn't its melody. That was wonderful, sure—the organ intro still makes me grin with happy expectation: Something fine is coming soon. But I'd heard other tunes just as gracefully intense. It was the lyrics that got me. I'd read other poetry then, though not much. But I thought poetry was by definition old stuff: moving in its way, but always out of date, a little like those Beethoven symphonies.
In Dylan I saw that music and lyrics could sound contemporary. Someone who listened to "Like a Rolling Stone" 50 times wouldn't be entirely lost reading "The Waste Land" or even Wallace Stevens's "Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction." If you've met a "Napoleon in rags," you might, with a little more effort, be able to reach terms with Stevens's Canon Aspirin or even Nanzia Nunzio, who provokes Ozymandias to tell him that "the spouse / the bride is never naked," whatever that means.
The door Dylan kicked open was into the world of words, and eventually, after five or eight years fluttering at the threshold, I made my way inside. In time, I began trying to write as well as to read, and I owe that to Dylan as much as to anyone.
If I'd had a little more musical inclination, the song would have made me want to make some songs of my own. I'd have wanted to bring across my own view of things in musical language as strange and funny as Dylan's and phrased with his sense of inevitability. In fact, the best thing that hearing music can do for you is make you want to make your own.
I find it close to absurd that some people are musicians and singers and others are silent apostles who never let out a peep, maybe not even in the shower. Music seems like a basic human right, much like the right to prayer and the right to fall in love. Everyone's got a right to sing his song—though no one should be compelled to listen to it.
The notion that people have to do our singing for us is, in some ways, a result of the mind-set developed under capitalism with its insistence on the division of labor, which, though it surely has its virtues, we have taken to an absurd degree. It's amazing that thousands of people will pay a lot of money to go to a concert to watch 10 people on stage have the lions' share of the fun.
I read recently that every Comanche warrior had his personal song, written for him by the wise man in his tribe, and modified by the singer as the mood arose. The warrior woke up singing it, sang it from time to time during the day, and hummed it when he was going to sleep at night. The song might go on about what a great hunter he was; how many buffalo he'd shot; what a formidable lover he could be; how tall and handsome. It was righteous music.
If music kicks in any door regularly, it's the door that separates us from making music of our own. Sing, hum, strum, toot. It's said that when the Diggers, a group of early hippies, were invited to a Saturday night Grateful Dead show and told they could come in gratis, they declined. Saturday night was the night that they toked up, got out their guitars, banjos, and harmonicas—for the more amateur, the pots and pans and clicking spoons—and made their own noise. They had fun.
The ultimate liberation that someone else's music may provide is the liberation of you—the individual—into your own music, or your own creations, of whatever stripe.
Music can be a pleasure to listen to. But spending your life as a consumer and not a creator is a chump's bet. Nietzsche said that eventually he judged music by one standard. How fertile did it make him? How much and how well did it inspire him to write? Many of us have been duped by consumer ideology. Consumerism says that life's greatest pleasures are in consuming, in buying good stuff and enjoying it. But that's wrong.
Life's pleasures are in creating things, even if the creations have a few cracks in them. (Even if the creations are nothing but cracks.) If music doesn't produce music, or something fresh, it's often a sterile diversion. There's no one whose company I shun more than that of the Music Geek—someone with catalog-like knowledge and taste like a guillotine, who sits at stiff attention when the tunes play. He is sterility itself.
Take every aspect of his relation to music, reverse it, and good things will come. Music at its best moves you emotionally. But it should also move you from one place to another; it should move you to get off your enjoyment-oriented posterior and do something.
The Music Geek listens only to the best music. He does it all day long, sitting in his Herman Miller Aeron chair, with his Bose headphones on; he wears pads on his eyes; his face is drawn in sublime concentration. He's like someone who eats only the best food—very picky in all his selections—but then never uses the strength and health he engenders by it.
The Music Geek condescends to everyone else's taste. I half-believe that, on some level, the Music Geek doesn't really like music, doesn't get it, and wants everyone else to join him in his sterile funk.
Can music save your life? My wonderful former teacher, Geoffrey Hartman, said that most reading was vague and lazy, like girl watching. Feminists gave him the bastinado for that, but he was right. Something similar is true about listening to music. Usually it's about getting your emotions packaged for you, quieting the static inside, fabricating an exciting identity (the gangsta, the hipster) to counteract one's commitment to a life of secure banality.
Most music listening, like most reading, is passive. It's about girl watching rather than woman wooing, which is a tougher game. Schopenhauer says that most reading is letting other people think your thoughts for you. I'd add that most music listening is about letting other people feel your feelings for you.
Feel them for yourself, I say. Then shout them out loud. And sing them too. Do it for your own pleasure. It doesn't matter whether anyone is listening.
Mark Edmundson is a university professor of English at the University of Virginia. He is the author, most recently, of Why Read? (Bloomsbury USA, 2004) and a new book on college teaching and learning, forthcoming from Bloomsbury in 2013.
From: Peter Stravlo
To: Ed Lawry
Sent: Sunday, June 3, 2012 11:26 AM
Dan and Ed,
First, I want to read The Mirror and The Lamp. Should help to sort out/clarify my ideas on the experience of art, and I think this will inform the book project I am starting, the story of a US soldier who sneaks recovered art into the US after WWII and uses the illicit proceeds to start the strip-mall movement, roughly based on one of my relatives.
Peggy and I have had many discussions on how to tell the difference between good/bad/better art. Our short answer (I want to call it a definition, but the letters get too far apart) is, Look at a lot of Art.
Obviously this has its limitations, but I think it speaks to our discussion, and I think it and the Kincaid example are instructive. How do we, given attempts to define art in terms of our experience and the neverending need to create, decide what is art and what is not, without resorting to some platitude that might logically incorporate all experience?
One of the purposes of Look at a lot of Art as a method is the suggestion that, if you educate yourself enough, take it seriously enough, you can not only tell the difference between art and not so art, but what might be the better of two pieces of art. But it's woefully incomplete, arrogant, and limited- though for those novices who are unsure of their evaluative powers in this regard it's a step up from 'whatever you like is art,' and I have found it encourages many people to think more about art and be less self-conscious in their opinions.
I think this type of thinking is in fact behind Kincaid not being accepted as 'real art,' despite his work obviously falling within many technical definitions of art. I have relatives that love Kincaid, but also love Peggy's work, and also scrunch their noses when confronted with abstract art. And I am quite happy to accept that admirers of Kincaid are better off than those content intermigling Wal-Mart hearts with family pictures on their walls.
Dan wants to make the artist's genius capable of transferring her/his inspiration to the artist, thus salvaging a shared human experience.
I have always insisted the artist's intention not need to have anything to do with my experience of the work as art; sometimes I seek to understand the artist's intentions, history, etc., though I also often do not use the recorded explanatory headphones so popular now at exhibits, because I don't want someone else's well-worn analytics to corrupt my initial impressions of the work.
I think I have to disagree with you, Dan, that the history of art has somehow accomplished something in terms of learning how to corral the audience's aesthetic experience. I fear we all bring a too varied or convoluted combination of the four corners of understanding art for that to be a realistice goal.
The understanding that Kant is attempting to justify our aesthetic and moral, etc., experience, vs explain it, I think makes me more comfortable with these discussions overall, and with the many remarks I hear from artists vis a vis their peers' efforts. Maybe that's another discussion.
In hopes of a shared aesthetic
To: "Dan Ellis" , pstravlo@comcast.net
Sent: Thursday, May 31, 2012 1:40:25 PM
Dan's post from 5/29 was certainly a huge sweep of comment on the history of art from Courbet through the modernists. There are many parts that could be expanded. I just remind you that Kant's project (in aesthetics as well as in morality and epistemology) was a task of justification of our experience rather than an explanation of the experience, even though his many suggestions have prompted his readers to understand the justification as an explanation. Kant would have been the first to say that much other empirical psychology would be needed to explain aesthetic experience.
I have always been particularly enamored of the way that the literary critic and theorist , Meyer Abrams, categorizes approaches to art in his book, The Mirror and the Lamp. Written in 1953, it was an attempt to highlight the revolution in the understanding of literature and the literary artist that took place during the flowering of the romantic era (late 18th early 19th century period). Abrams thought that all commentators approached art from one of four perspectives—art work (the objective approach), artist (the expressive approach) audience (the pragmatic approach) and world (the mimetic approach). He insists that for any approach to be robust, it must have some place for the other approaches, but he thinks everybody that tries their hand at a theory has one dominating perspective. Because of this, no single approach can satisfy everyone. But each has its insight.
Roughly speaking, the mimetic theory characterized the understanding of art in the west from the Greeks through the 18th century, and this may have been so because literary arts were the center of attention in such discussion and words tended to make people think of what meaning was contained in them—how what was said was an insight into "Nature" or the world we experience. The romantic revolution reversed the direction and suggested that it was the internal psyche of the artist that was crucial to the understanding of what art was doing. Needless to say, the art of the romantics was dramatically different from the past (think of the difference between Alexander Pope and John Keats). The last half of the 19th century saw a marked rise in pragmatic theories (here we should not underestimate the role of Edgar Allen Poe and his influence on French writers). The modern age, beginning roughly at the start of the 20th century found more and more interest in the objective approach (think of Archibald MacLeish's famous line, "A poem should not mean, but be.")
We can find strands of all of the approaches from the start of the history of the west. Even though Plato maintained that poetry was "an imitation" (though a poor one since it was an imitation of the world, which was already an imitation of the forms) he was much concerned by the pragmatic effect of poetry upon its audience and that is why he banished poets from the Republic. And Longinus had much to say about "the sublime" in art. But the point again, is that each approach comes from one of the four "corners" of art understanding.
Now if we think of things on this model, Dan's comments, in a reaction to an objective approach (art for art's sake), suggest a lot in common with the expressive approach. He talks sometimes of "intangible motivators" (Art for Your World) sometimes of "primary sensations" (the 5/29 post). These expressions try to locate the initial springs of art in the artist. What these exactly are is obviously difficult to say. However, there are similar "motivators" and/or "sensations" in the audience as well. Sometimes we get descriptions that suggest that the stirrings or inspirations that prompt the artist get somehow embodied in the artwork itself and that they are then made accessible to the audience who then experience them as a form of communication. At the same time, Dan wants also to permit the audience to have "sensations" that might be oblique to the ones the artist wished to communicate, so that there are no "lazy viewer sins."
Now arise difficulties. If viewers are not to be held to a standard of reception, then what are we to do with the wildly popular artists like Thomas Kinkaid? His name does not appear in lists of best selling artists if you Google that phrase. The "Artworld" chooses to ignore him. But as we know, his pictures (and copies of his pictures) are eagerly bought up all over America, making him one of the most financially successful artists ever. Obviously, the audience is deeply moved by Kinkaid's work. So then shall we say he must have had primary sensations which he was able to communicate through his work so as to give satisfying emotional experience to his audience? And if so, should he be considered one of the great artists of all and should we study his work in studios and classrooms? Perhaps there are lazy viewer sins after all? And perhaps sin is widespread?
The idea here is that such an issue can help clarify and improve the theory.
From: Dan Ellis
To: pstravlo@comcast.net; Ed Lawry
Subject: artist and audience 02, modernists via Kant
From the Comfort Inn of Evansville Indiana…
Good Morning Pete and Ed,
Pete, perhaps you recall that before working at PSI I worked at Denver Art Supply. We had a cartoon clipping taped to our cash register that read, "Welcome to the art world. It's a shady and manipulative place." Talking about art can be difficult because all borders are porous and all distinctions are blurred. I would be the last person to impose rules into that free for all.
I enjoy the fact that you are reading fiction in order to learn to become less analytical. I started reading Kant in order to sharpen my analytical skills. I jumped into the prefaces and began drowning immediately being out of my depth, but I persevered and by now I have progressed to advanced dog paddling. I agree with you that Kant's inquiry is helpful when applied to art. This surprising discovery is probably why I stuck it out through the drowning phase.
If I look at the period from the impressionists through the abstract expressionists through the filter of Kant it is easy to see that the accomplishment of modernism was to put the artist back in touch with the primary sensations of the artistic process. (What I have referred to earlier as personal motivators.) By the time that history had brought us around to the realists and the romanticists the artists are trying to create images which the viewer will cognize into language from which they would draw the sentiment that the artist intended. Think of the Stonebreakers by Courbet or the Wanderer Above the Sea Fog by Friedrich. The impressionists stepped away from this toward a more direct emotional response.
The following versions of the avant-garde kept pushing their expectations further into a more direct expression of the primary sensations that make up this need to create which Pete identifies as belonging to the true artist. Some, such as the surrealists wanted to derail the viewer's intellect hoping to reveal to them their own primary sensations. Others, the dadas for instance set out to destroy the conventions that they thought were restricting them. Still others such as Matisse took the rout of seducing us with pleasant frankness. Personally Matisse works for me. All were attempting to be in touch with and put the viewer in tough with their primary sensations. The abstract expressionists were the inevitable conclusion to this process and their pinnacle achievement was to demonstrate that a work of art is a thing in itself, not a derivative object ala Plato.
These modernists did much needed work. Their goals have been achieved. Artists have been reintroduced to those primary sensations – what the art world calls inspiration – as the subject of art. Now the expectation is for the artist to launch from their inspiration into an image that can directly communicate that inspiration to the viewer. This transaction does require a willingness to receive on the part of the viewer. The viewer expects a willingness to give from the artist.
Kant's search for a priori experience is similar to the modernist search for primary sensations, though I do not recall anyone using that language. What the modernists found however was not a priori knowledge ala Kant, but rather pre—cognate sensation. By channeling these sensations into image and the formal elements of art (line, proportion, etc.) artists are able to keep these sensations pre—cognate and express them more directly to the viewer. A good work of art must be personal from the artist, and it is successful as it is able to communicate these primary sensations to the viewer.
I'm out of time God bless all y'all
. Have fun D.E.
Abstract Expressionism Aesthetics Andhtony Burgess art Bob Dylan Clock Work Orange Expressionism; Kant; Agnes Martin harwood Museum Kincaid Mark Edmundson Music Painting philosophy Taos The Mirror and the Lamp Writing
Posted on June 17, 2012 June 25, 2012 in Current, Fiction
Forgotten Letter
For ten and one half years, a vision has haunted me: your stepdad on his deathbed at St Francis Hospital, I sitting at his side; your sister and her husband standing over him, placing their hands on him and praying aloud and speaking in tongues as they pressesd their convictions on my defenseless husband… while I wept but did not prevent or stop it. He writhed and moaned, the only method available to him to protest and defend himself. I know I should not have allowed it, should have stopped it, but…. Well, you know that, until his lung surgery and my brother's call to her, your sister and I had not spoken for months. I was weak when he needed my strength most.
I do not want you or my brother or anyone else to have to protect me in a similar situation. It would be nearly impossible for you to do. My fear of alienationg my daughter now is exceeded only by my fear of being stripped of my last vestige of dignity while dying. I addresssed this letter to both of you in order to assure her that you, too, have been apprised of my wished in this matter.
Two pages later.
Med don't seem to do as well as women when widowed. I think it's because they can't let their guard down enought to form really intimate friendships. Women do. but men seem to feel they have to be tough and macho with each other, have to compete in everything. Women have since they were girls giggled together and exchanged secrets and wept on each other's shoulders. Some of the saddest moments I can remember were those times when my husband literally wept tears over not having a close male friend. I tried to make him understand that a friendship cannot be based on on person being the 'better' or 'higher' than the other; that a freindship has to be based on mutual respect and love, not competition. There can be no 'one-upmanship' in a friendship. He heard me, but it just wasn't in him. And he suffered for it. He loved my having deep friendships with women… and I think seeing those friendships made the contrast more poignant for him.
Tow more pages.
You know, my mother and I had a love-hate relationship that I've only tried to understand in the past several years from her viewpoint. While she was loving and there for us, and did a darned good job of raising and keeping her family (her and the kids, I mean) together, there was always a distance she maintained… with me, anyway. I remember when she was dying. I wished so much she could bring herself to tell me how she felt… not physically, but mentally and emotionally. But she couldn't. I think, even in her dying, she felt compelled to protect us. She never acknowledged the word 'cancer.' I felt that, if she could just share her feelings with someone…me, of course… she might not feel so alone. Of course, I haven't experienced what she was experiencing and realize that, no matter what, it was her experience. That no amount of 'sharing' it could ease it for her. We can't share someone's dying. Oh, I don't know. But I do know that she seldom discussed with me her inner thoughts, beefore or during her last ordeal. Oh, there was one time I remember: she had come out to spend the evening with you and your sister and me. After you were in bed, she began to talk about me and my older brother's father… for the first time in her life. "I've always loved him," she said as she paced the family room floor. I was stunned to think that she carried that sad longing for thirty years and through three more (at the time) marriages.
Paragraph One- I had to walk out of the room after she died, after I told my relatives she didn't want to be prayed over. They did it anyway.
Paragraph Two- The next sentence: "I've always admired your lifelong ability to form close friendships, honey. Of course, I'm not privy to your private moments with those friends, so I suppose I don't really know how deep they are. I've always felt you and ____ had that sort of friendship." She was right, but it's the only one, except good friendships I've had with women. And the one close male friendship is possible because, despite my inner competitiveness, we don't compete, never have. Just not what he does, and it allows space for a beautiful friendship.
Paragraph Three- Mom's father abandoned the family when Mom was a few months old. They were living in a barn, Mom sleeping in the bottom drawer of a dresser. One time Mom and her brother located their Father and arranged a meeting. She didn't show, and as far as I could ever tell, never regretted it.
Mom didn't repeat my Grandmother's mistake. Over three years of her failing health we spent countless hours and days together, stripping our feelings naked, without any fear of a question, without any hesitatiion to confront our frailties and mistakes. Death, love, hate, sexual abuse, abandonment, jealousy, nothing was off limits. I've never met anyone so brave. Thank you, Mom. You continue to teach and inspire me.
Diary Euthanasia History Letter Love Mom Mother Daughter Rivalry
Posted on May 28, 2012 in Current, Fiction, Philosophy, Poetry
The End of Night
I use more of each night until sleep is a burden
Those peaceful hours that mean so much
That I do not go back to sleep
The sounds of the city are finally articulate
A train warning no one
A huge slab of metal crashing for years over a crater in the road
Because I've never been able to think of it as anything else
Buses ending, then beginning
Walking voices
Lives beyond the shades
A lonely siren like a random alarm clock
Age lending urgency to time
Between dreams and reality
Beholden to no one
Age City Dreaming Night poetry Sleep Sound Time
Posted on May 23, 2012 May 23, 2012 in Current, Fiction, Philosophy, Poetry
Letter to Dan Ellis
Good to hear from you. Hopefully your strategic successes will overwhelm your tactical challenges.
I have included my friend, Ed Lawry, in this discussion, as Ed is not only a storied philosopher, but a scholar of aesthetics as well.
As for Kant. Though it's likely I live much of his philosophy each day, it's been a long time since I've read him. I am reading mainly fiction and poetry these days. As much as philosophy teaches me, at this point in my life I am focused on fiction and poetry to enrich my understanding, allowing me to break the bonds of analytics.
For Kant Psychological principals would be those governing our thought processes. The laws of cause and affect, for instance, are reflections of the structure of our mind/brain (let's not complicate things with Descartes for the moment.) We think one thing causes another because we consistently see the first thing occur immediately preceeding the second (constant conjunction), and our mind posits that the first must be the cause of the second. It's a very happy way of walking around the world without falling off a cliff.
What we don't really know is whether this way of making sense of the world corresponds to the way the world really is, or if it's merely a result of the way our mind must, due to the way it's structured, process our perceptions.
Thus we live our lives 'as if' we perceive and understand 'things in themselves.'
But we can never know 'things in themselves.' We only know things as we perceive them. Thus both empirical and psychological principals are based on our perceptions, which may or may not correspond to the 'real' world, and thus could never function as a reliable basis of a true demonstrated science.
This brings me to 'Art For Your World,' the statement on your website.
I have never thought of the mantra 'art for art's sake,' as imposing such a weighty obligation on the viewer. A freeing of the artist, certainly.
Now I am going to bastardize Descartes. 'I create, therefore I am.'
One of the great lessons I took from running the gallery is my definition of a true artist. It was a great experience to help so many aspiring artists exhibit for the first time. Most were, as you were at the time, burdened with the unreasonable capitalist imposition of paying rent.
You had to do your art after work, on the weekends, using your sick days that I did not pay you for.
I discovered that some people have to create. Like my beautiful wife Peggy McGivern, they have to physically change the world they live in. This is what I call a true artist.
Many people love art, and many are smitten with the romantic notion of being an artist, or bohemian, or rebel, or don't like their life.
But a true artist is compelled to create. It's therapy, exercise, as necessary as breathing, filtering 'things in themselves' through the nose hairs of their minds, existing 'as if' the cause and effect structure of their existence was malleable, invoking the same instinct to control their world as Kant is trying to understand when he embarks upon 'The Critique of Pure Reason.'
Is it, as you suggest, a failure of the modern art avant-gard if the artist does not have the viewer in the back of her or his mind when comsumed by creation?
Is the viewer sinning when s/he doesn't at least attempt to take the artist's intentions into account?
Maybe we all just owe it to ourselves to contemplate creation; seen, heard, felt, processed, as if…
Give my love to Brenda,
art Avant-gard creation Critique of Pure Reason Descartes Kant philosophy poetry psychology science
After and Before
Having lived a life full of children and grandchildren, spouses and lovers, work and adventure, with enough integrity in the end to apply the vague term happiness, Chandra is strangely disconcerted to discover death does not equal non-existence.
At first Chandra assumes the windy, dark luminescence is part of the death process, until there is no sequence of events, no movement, no curiosity, and no reason to get there.
Yet Chandra remembers being Chandra, indistinctly, as if memories are dreams of time and space minus history and reason.
Chandra has a sense, not one of the five, but complete and neutral. Chandra wants to call it a feeling of the soul because there is no choice but to borrow familiar nomenclature.
The dark wind feels like enveloping water, Chandra drowning calmly without fear that time will lead to an unknowable future, or that space could propose any obstacle.
And the familiar is a cookied page haunting Chandra's soul, filling its emptiness, blowing in the luminescence, a benign virus swirling in the water.
When the water breaks and the womb births Chandra remembers Chandra for milliseconds or millennia before the nurse slaps Chandra's bottom, a new breath is drawn, and the memory of Chandra is lost in the after and before.
Afterlife death memory non-existence poetry reincarnation space Time
A Funeral is a Family Reunion
All the elements of love are there:
Deep Memories (Anger)
Surprise (Evolution)
Empathy (Emptiness)
Regret (Desire)
Sincerity (Latent Interpretation)
Ego (Agenda)
Forgiveness (Hierarchy)
Breaking Bread (Stirring the Pot)
Compliments (Envy)
Honesty (Novel Interpretation)
By now the sadness has passed, a half-life of reflection lingers, a posthumous friendship, mortality respected.
And a moment of joy may be as simple as forgetting the petty details, or waking up in the morning, not knowing why.
Family Love Meaning Mortality poetry Reunion
Posted on May 8, 2012 May 8, 2012 in Current, Philosophy, Poetry
Seventy to Ninety
With not so much to do
Seventy may be
Enough to prove
Diminished expectation
No longer parents
To reciprocate
Ninety can be
Unfinished dreams
Grandchildren respect
Eternal myths
Of dying relevance
When mortal time
Is ready
Time; poetry; Mortality; Meaning; Myth; Euthanasia; Growing old
Posted on May 4, 2012 in Current, Philosophy, Poetry
I navigate home from work all day
Move things around the yard
Plants waiting patiently
Pretending for the neighbors
The sun mercifully sets
I lock the door
Television quietly minding its own business
Books and laundry calling to me
Unaware of the dishes
I am grateful that pens rarely run out of ink
Before things get lost
Like phrases I'm enamored with
Perfectly fine words deleted
Afraid of cultural deficiencies
It's cowardice
To live inside
Draw meaning without love
Have so much to say
As if being a member was preferable
Dreaming is an excuse
Between now and before
Intermittent story hours
Until I don my costume
After one-hundred years of solitude
Gabriel Marquez Garcia solitude
Posted on May 1, 2012 in Current, Fiction, Philosophy, Poetry
Drone and Consume
Death in a world of 7 billion
Drone on and on
Little pieces of property
Assasinate a Human Being
Like too many thoughts
To consume in an email
My distant Pride
Diminished Redemption
*"Tell him," the Colonel said, "that a person doesn't die when he should, but when he can."
*Quote from "One Hundred Years Of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
assassination consumer drone evil poetry pride Science; Y Chromosone; Philosophy; Love; Sex; Conflict;
Posted on April 18, 2012 April 18, 2012 in Current, Philosophy
The word can intimidate, it is dismissed; like a lover it is often misunderstood.
It makes many people turn the page.
It is the most influential ignored factor in our lives.
You might argue the computer has taken this role, but the computer would not exist without philosophy, that's how under the radar philosophy is.
We mostly skim the surface of life, everyday needs require it, our brains are wired to form and take shortcuts, so we don't have to reason out the gritty details of why we do what we do from moment to moment.
That's what philosophy is, reasoning out the details, attempting to bring them to the surface. It's a difficult task, because it's impossible to function below the surface: Who has time, moment to moment, or even hour to hour, to reason out how the phone lines' vibrations more or less faithfully reproduce my voice? Or why my grandaughter learned irony by age four? I make the call, I smile at her intelligence.
I love doing the reasoning, reflecting on the 'deeper,' more important things in my life, in life. I love philosophy. I love the tingling in my cortex when I read Heidegger; he leads me down creative pathways.
I try to live my life philosophically (this is radically different than adhering to a philosophy.)
And I am diappointed that more people don't share my passion.
Philsosphy gives my life meaning. Without it, I am just taking up space, filling time; and it's the only time and space I have. Be immoral to waste it.
Maybe I'll have Wittgenstein for lunch.
philosophy; meaning; coping; diving; thinking; love


Broadcast news anchor who is recognized for her work as a lead newscaster for the Brazilian System of Television. She has also worked for the Brazilian network Tambau TV.
She studied journalism at the Federal University of Paraiba.
In 2014, she was sued by the Communist Party of Brazil for comments that she made on-air.
She was married to Rodrigo Porto from 2005 to 2016.
She took a selfie with music performer Anitta in late 2017.