“Thank you” would die on your lips
If you knew,
What pride and ambition and hate
I have had to fight in myself,
To earn it.[^1]

March has ended and I am not quite sure where it went. Did I write? Yes I did. Did I make music? Yes I did. Did I do either of those things as well or as much as I had planned? No. If there are 'creatives' out there whose output is steady and controlled, I am certainly not one of them. I have worked hard to develop 'bare minimum habits' that help me maintain some consistency, but on top of those habits my output has always been stormy. Sometimes it overflows, sometimes it dries up, and I have to dig a deep well with my fingernails to find anything. Lately the music well has been much more productive than the writing well (at least in terms of fiction). I do not think this is unnatural in the sense that humans are not machines, but it would be nice to have an even keel. Ultimately though, I can rest because I believe that my life is Not My Own, and there is freedom in that. I just have to remember it, and endure it.

Writing

I wish I could banish the guilt I feel when I think of how little progress I have made on the book. I did write a pretty long essay, but for some reason I just can't shake a sense of failure when I don't work on the book. E.B. White once likened the impulse to write something as having a storm cloud over one's head until the thing is written, and I resonate with that very much. I suppose I should stop feeling guilty and just recognize that these works that seem to appear over my head are just manifestations of the creative process; but I push back on that phrasing “just manifestations of the creative process,” because I feel that it cheapens the work. I will say that the Manliness essay was a cloud that had been hanging over me for years, and it felt good to finally dispel it. Writing is a fascinating process. Control over it (for me) is both a responsibility and an illusion.

Music

I have been playing and practicing quite a lot. I bought a new acoustic guitar, which I have 'needed' for a while. The neck on my old one is somewhat rough, which means it taught me a lot about proper technique and finger position, but come showtime was really limiting and nerve-racking. The new one, an Orangewood, is very nice for the price, and I am liking it more every day as I break it in. I almost immediately started recording (semi-officially) the Lit Songs album with it. I think I have gotten good enough with my microphones and production process that I can make very nice sounding demos, complete with drums! The challenge is really just finding time when the house is quiet (which is not often, with two young kids). I mostly record at night instead of playing video games, which is good, but also I need to sleep. I need to pace myself.

Reading

I read a lot for the podcast, namely Piranesi and That Hideous Strength and Borges (still editing those recordings). For fun, I have picked up Robinson Crusoe and The Divine Comedy. I have enjoyed That Hideous Strength and Robinson Crusoe the most out of those.

I have also decided to try and revive my Latin. For language learning, my main goal is usually just to be able to read. To that end I have been reading 死神永生 (Death's End) by 《刘慈欣》(Liu Cixin) for over about a year. I try to read one page a day, writing down words I don't know, then adding them to Pleco's flashcard function. I do think my comprehension is improving, but it is still far from where I want it to be. For Latin, I am restarting Gustatio Linguae Latinae. My wife is a Latin teacher, so I've got a pretty good motivational head start, and it has really been a lot of fun.

It is really amazing to me how video games have the power to inoculate so many of my life-giving impulses. I think it is because video games offer a facsimile of what they promise: skill building (learning a musical instrument), exploration (reading about a new place), immersion (learning a new language and reading primary sources), self-expression (writing). Please note, I do not think video games are evil, it is just that they can be easily abused out of all moderation. I have also been fasting from breakfast to dinner for Holy Week, and it has helped me realize just how many impulses for consumption I have, and how little I deny them. Those little snacks and cookies and glasses of milk add up, even though they are not harmful in themselves. And it seems to me that the modern adulthood our culture strives for is less about self control, and more about working ourselves into the ground for a life that doesn't require it. So many of the things we buy are for pure convenience and organization, so that we don't have to think or be responsible. AI is no different in this regard, and the commercials for it emphasize the fact that it can automate tasks that we have already striven to automate, so that we will just become Dostoevsky's “General Humans” or C.S. Lewis's “Men Without Chests.”

Well, until next time.

[1]: If I do not cite a poetry source, you can assume that I wrote it.

#update #April #2026

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

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— James Baldwin in “The Black Boy Looks at the White Boy”

Well this is the last update of the year. That went fast. Time moves faster and faster as one ages. That is not a very original observation, is it? When I think about where I was last year I suppose I am most definitely in a better place, mainly because I don't have pneumonia, but I guess I have grown a bit as a writer, and a husband and a father and a friend. I feel that I have been tried much more in my personal life than in my artistic life. When I say personal life I do not mean there has been anything especially dramatic, I mean I have been tried in those secret places of my pride, that only those with good marriages or deep relationships discover in themselves. I have been tried, and found wanting, and broken down, and improved. That is, I suppose, evidence that I am walking with Jesus. I have a lot to be thankful for.

Writing

I decided to start publishing on Medium again. It is my way of “fighting for my life,” for what Baldwin means, to me, is that a writer who is worried about his career is worried that he will be able to keep doing it, or whether it will always be a hobby. The writer who is worried about his career is worried that writing can be a career at all, and I am certainly worried about that. Querying. Querying. Querying.

I will always be writing, but I do have to provide for my family at some point. Medium is really just a way for me to get exposure. It is where an audience is, and it harms my conscience much less than YouTube (not to mention all the extra work of video production). Write.as will always be the definitive home for my words, and my major essays will always be free, but I will be putting things on Medium because it is the only place where I have ever been paid for my work, and because I do not have the time or emotional energy to find and submit to magazines. It is also, as far as I can tell, funded by real people and not ads. I do have a suspicion that most of those people are also writers, but that is fine with me. If they are writers then they are more likely to read long form content and poetry and the other weird stuff I like to write. I am going to try very hard to stay true to my voice and not adopt the bloggy one sentence paragraph phone friendly sort of style that seems to be in vogue.

He says as he is writing on his blog...

If you'd like to support me over there please feel free: https://medium.com/@hdansin

Music

Started playing guitar again, and while my wrist is not all the way there yet it is getting better day by day. I don't notice it much when I am playing. The most exciting thing for me was working on a soundtrack for a friend's project. It has been really fun to do, and finally gave me the motivation I needed to learn how to do some MIDI stuff with our old keyboard. It is kind of astonishing how many instruments are available for free out there. Really impressed by Decent Sampler and many of the sample packs, particularly Lichen.

Reading

Standouts for me this past month were The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, and Nobody Knows my Name by James Baldwin. I had started Anxious Generation in September but finally got around to finishing it. It is a good book that is worth reading, but it was a frustrating read for me because I do not like sociology. I respect it as a worthwhile science, but I also resent the way it turns people into numbers and makes ends of means. Thankfully, I agree with the end of Anxious Generation, and I hope that it will inspire people to finally reject social media and Big Tech as we know it. In the very least, I think it is an important book for any parent to read. I know I will be referring to it and some of the resources he lists, especially Let Grow, for the next couple decades.

James Baldwin has become comfort reading, and more, for me. I was thinking today about “life writers”, writers that we develop deep relationships with over our lives, and Baldwin is definitely one of mine. I'm slowly (maybe not so slowly) reading through his body of work, and it has been a real staff to lean on. He has shown me that one can be both objective and soulful in an essay, that the use of one's personal life (as long as it is presented with unflinching honesty and humility) can be a noble source for both fiction and non-fiction, that I should never be ashamed about the length of my paragraphs or the complexity of my sentences, that race in America goes far deeper and wider than I could've imagined, that we have come a long way, and yet have so far to go. Here is a long quote, just because I love it:

“I do not think, if one is a writer, that one escapes it by trying to become something else. One does not become something else: one becomes nothing. And what is crucial here is that the writer, however unwillingly, always, somewhere, knows this. There is no structure he can build strong enough to keep out this self-knowledge. What has happened, however, time and time again, is that the fantasy structure the writer builds in order to escape his central responsibility operates not as his fortress, but his prison, and he perishes within it. Or: the structure he had built becomes so stifling, so lonely, so false, and acquires such a violent and dangerous life of its own, that he can break out of it only by bringing the entire structure down. With a great crash, inevitably, and on his own head, and on the heads of those closest to him. It is like smashing the windows one second before one asphyxiates; it is like burning down the house in order, at last, to be free of it.”[^2]

Thank you

This marks a year of doing these updates, so if you have kept up with them, thank you. I still have not received any coffees from anyone, but it has been very helpful to give myself some accountability. I think, after a year, I am actually starting to have fun with writing again. My new project is a real departure from my dark, gritty, serious, fantasy series; and it is also fun to have these spaces on the internet. So thank you to Write.as for making a platform with a conscience, and thank you reader for giving me someone to write to.

#update #December2025

[1]: Baldwin, James (1961). Nobody Knows My Name: more notes of a native son. “The Black Boy Meets the White Boy.” 216. https://archive.org/details/nobodyknowsmynam0000unse/page/216/mode/2up

[2]: Baldwin, James (1961). Nobody Knows My Name: more notes of a native son. “The Black Boy Meets the White Boy.” 239. https://archive.org/details/nobodyknowsmynam0000unse/page/238/mode/2up

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

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“Much mighty speech-making there has been, both in and out of Parliament, concerning Tom [^1], and much wrathful disputation how Tom shall be got right. Whether he shall be put into the main road by constables, or by beadles, or by bell-ringing, or by force of figures, or by correct principles of taste, or by high church, or by low church, or by no church: whether he shall be set to splitting trusses of polemical straws with the crooked knife of his mind, or whether he shall be put to stonebreaking instead. In the midst of which dust and noise, there is but one thing perfectly clear, to wit, that Tom only may and can, or shall and will, be reclaimed according to somebody's theory but nobody's practice. And in the hopeful meantime, Tom goes to perdition head foremost in his old determined spirit.”

— From Bleak House, Chapter 46, by Charles Dickens, emphasis mine

Well, don't try that^ at home kids. In other news. I have been in something of a slump in my writing. I did finish the second draft of book two over the summer, but it has been hard to conjure the passion. I think part of it is due to querying. Facing so much rejection, and viewing my book as a product, makes it hard to write something fresh because when I look it over my first thought is how weird and unmarketable it is. Writing itself takes an entirely different skill-set; the joy of a creative sentence is a humble joy compared to the shiny potential of publishing; I am continually astonished how different the world of letters is from the world that sells them. Without publishing, however, one can't live on sentences alone, but my heart certainly lives for them. “I can't go on. I'll go on.” [^2]

Writing

Still querying. This month I plan to work on some polish edits for book two, and get drafting on an entirely different project. I think I will go back to the notebook and pen, because I can't resist opening the web browser whenever I sit in front of my computer.

Music

I have some songs to record. It's time for me to stop obsessing about guitar “tone,” and just record the songs. I have also been asked to be more of a worship leader at church, rather than just a guitarist, and it makes sense for me. So I am thinking and praying about what that will mean. I have certainly been using the guitar as a way to procrastinate from working on my singing and songwriting. I should try to think of myself more as a whole musician, rather than a guitarist.

Reading

Bleak House has been a lot of fun. Dickens is still not exactly my style, but I respect him, and I have been enjoying reading him. It is certainly not easy reading, but it has forced me to slow down and just enjoy reading for itself, rather than the self-respect it can give me for being “well read.” The quote at the beginning of the blog is a good example of finding joy and truth in a fun sentence. One thing, though. I would advise against writing like Dickens unless you think you're a genius, because he treats the English language with a bewildering belligerence. The astonishing thing is that he can keep it up for so many pages without repeating himself. In emulation, unless you are Dickens yourself, it will probably end up fatiguing the reader to the point of exhaustion. It's a bit like trying to play like Hendrix. Sure, you can borrow some ideas and sounds from Jimi, but don't try to be him, because you don't have his hands.

Anyway, I also read a book about Robert Johnson called Up Jumped the Devil that I highly recommend. I might do a short review/blog post about it because I think it is really essential to anyone who is a fan of blues/rock and roll. The myth of Robert Johnson selling his soul to the devil is so pervasive that it is astonishing to learn about his actual life, which hadn't really been thoroughly and accurately researched until 2019! It is incredible when you consider how influential Johnson has been to the blues, and by extension Rock and Roll, and by extension the rest of music. The obscurity is partly because he wasn't that famous in his life, because he died young, and because folklore can be so powerful, and because of discrimination. I'll save the rest for another post, but go listen to Crossroad Blues, and pay attention to the lyrics. There is not a single reference to the devil or a Faustian bargain. He is, in fact, crying out to God for mercy. It would be just like the devil, to jump on the myth of a man's life and take all the credit for God-given talent and inspiration.

Random Thoughts

Speaking of talent, I have been wondering about the relationship between the practice of art and how we perceive it. Specifically, I have been thinking about this in the context of worship music. Music and writing for me, has an element of playfulness, even when I take myself far too seriously. Music especially is fun, and defies any sort of rule system for doing it “the right way.” Yet when we listen or read, it is so easy to call something 'good' because we like it, or because everyone else does, or some accomplished and smart people do. It just feels like lying, as an artist, to get up and perform something I've created as serious and worth paying for because it feels more like fun than valuable work, even though it requires a great deal of dedication and work to create.

We should, absolutely, strive to pay artists a fair wage and take them seriously — And we should also not inflate their egos by calling them great. In the context of worship, and the idea of divine inspiration (or universal inspiration, if you prefer), I think it is important to remember that the attributes of playfulness and fun can also be found in nature. If you believe God created the universe, then you must admit that he is infinitely creative and has a sense of humor (just think of the platypus). And the more I try to create the more I believe that there is no “right” way other than the way of love: If the art is happy, let it bring a pure joy rather than a violent one. If it is sad, let it convict us with sorrow that motivates a change for hope, rather than despair.

#Update #September2025

Footnotes:

[1] Tom-all-Alone's is a slum in London where unfortunates and ne'er-do-wells end up, and usually come to a bad end. Dickens, in referring to “Tom,” is referring to the poor and unfortunate.

[2] Samuel Beckett, in The Unnameable

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

Send me a kind word or a cup of coffee:

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*trowest = believe

— The Fool in King Lear Act 1. Sc. 4

Such simple advice from a fool, and yet so difficult to follow in a world which constantly tries to get us to play the fool with our wallets and our tongues. This update is coming so late because I neglected it in the first week of August, and everything got away from us. Now the end of the summer is closing fast and we can't seem to get a spare moment. Even though we purposely tried not to schedule anything it seems we've had some travel or events happening every day. Have never been more tired in my life.

Writing

I managed to finish the second draft of Book 2. I think there is still more polishing to do, and possibly some shoring up in the latter section, but it is readable as a book for other people now, so progress. Also querying and getting rejected, which is par for the course. Have gotten some encouraging rejections though, so going to keep going.

Music

Have been picking up the guitar but not getting much done, mostly because it's been difficult to take advantage of the uninterrupted time that I have. I did manage to record a fun podcast with my friend, which was guitar related, and very fun, but I have to edit it. Hopefully it will be out soon.

Reading

The stack of books by my bedside is comical. Picked up King Lear to re-read after seeing it live, then picked up Three Musketeers after starting the audiobook on my way to visit a friend. Am also still reading Bleak House, and managed to finish a Sanderson book. Ah yes and also read Huckleberry Finn. If I had to pick one that's been most in my mind and not Shakespeare it is probably Bleak House. Has made me appreciate Dickens a lot more, and it is quite a haunting mystery. Dickens really has no respect for the English language. Don't try to write like him unless you have the utterly bewildering eye for detail that he does. Definitely not my style, but I respect it, and it's a fun ride. Huck Finn was also a highlight. I read it and then made my wife read it so we could talk about it. It is hard to argue with Hemingway's statement that all of American Literature comes from Huck Finn. There are patterns originated in that book that have been echoed and echoed and echoed. Problematic? Sure. Every book has problems, just like every person does, but Mark Twain was onto something, whether he knew it or not. I don't know how Jim kept his cool with Tom Sawyer's antics, and yet, I know exactly how and why.

Seeing

This summer has sort of been the “Summer of Shakespeare” for us. We went to see three plays, and I hope it becomes a tradition. Twelfth Night and King Lear by Capital Classics, and Hamlet by Time's fool. Managed to drag our kids and family members. I believe that live Shakespeare is for everyone, even if you have no interest in reading it. My five year old son was belly laughing at Malvolio's speech (“Some have greatness thrust upon them”), and whether or not he will clearly remember it, I have to believe in it. There are plenty of studies about the benefits of reading to children, and whether or not we remember our toddler-hood, it affects us. Going to see a Shakespeare play is about the closest thing one can come to live time travel, and the words and stories have lasted for a reason. In them we can see the passions that still exalt and crush our lives and histories played on the stage. I feel the echoes of it in my bones. And we receive more from live actors than even the best screen productions. It is a sort of collaborative spell. And a life-giving catharsis in this world of fast food regurgitations.

#update #August2025

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

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Out in the air, chased from my lair, my surprised ears do greet a natural symphony passing sweet.

Through the trees, a gentle breeze. From warbling throats, a harmonic tease. Spoiled anon by our metal throng and its ceaseless, guzzling song.

But in the quiet, I comprehend no matter how much, on sound, we spend: No song, no orchestral suite, with God-played Nature, can compete.

— “God-played Nature”

July is here, and with it summer. It has been a busy, beautiful time for us, not without struggle, but not without joy. I have been snatching writing and music time, moving furniture, and reading. The 4th passed for us in a whirlwind. We saw family, which was good, but my patriotism is hanging by a thread. This country, founded by rebels, will seem to need rebellion again soon if we want it to be made free for all. I pray for peace, and change, and a remembrance that “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” was not a statement of fact but a battle cry.

Writing

I have completed a second draft of my second novel, and am now editing from the first novel all the way through to the second. Still querying. Still getting rejections. I also managed to complete my essay on Re-reading Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. You can find it as the previous post on this blog. I am somewhat proud of it, as it is the longest non-fiction essay I have produced since college, and I think I am warming to my voice as an essay writer somewhat ﹣ But I still have many defects.

Music

I have been playing more guitar than past years. I decided to trick myself by picking up the guitar before I sit down to do anything fun, like play a video game, and have found that I usually end up playing guitar and not the game at all. Music, to me, is the original video game: It requires rhythm, timing, dexterity, and yet has so much more depth and nuance to explore. Video games are not bad, but I have noticed a tendency in my life to pursue them to distraction and the detriment of the greater goods in my life, and I do not think I am alone. If I want my kids to pursue productive hobbies like music, then I have to model it for them.

Reading

Well I went back to James Baldwin, this time re-reading The Devil Finds Work, his long form collection of essays about films. Initially I was looking for a quote to use in my Tolkien essay, but just ended up reading the whole thing again. Baldwin is my comfort food. His subjects are often heavy and difficult, but he maintains his sanity and sense of humor (miraculously). It is like listening to a truly great blues player, who is not simply playing to be impressive and make noise, but who is redeeming his pain by making something beautiful out of it. Oddly enough, I found it applicable as I was sitting in a resort hotel theater suffering through the Minecraft movie. Read more about that here, if you like.

I also read Flannery O-Connor's Wise Blood. I knew a little of what to expect since I had already read A Good Man is Hard to Find, and while I enjoyed it, it is definitely not for everybody. Her characters are so dirty and so ugly, and her worldview is so terrifying, and yet there is something beautiful about it. Like Jesus dying on the cross, it reflects the stark juxtaposition of divine beauty married to the worst corruptions of humanity. She's an American classic for a reason.

Ah yeah, I also started The Tempest, and as always with Shakespeare I am impressed and humbled. I am happy to report that my Shakespeare muscle made it not too difficult to get into. Like most skills, and reading is a skill, it gets easier the more you do it. Here's a random quote with no context, because we all need more Shakespeare in our lives:

“O, if you but knew how you the purpose cherish; Whiles thus you mock it, how in stripping it, You more invest it.

Ebbing men indeed Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth.”

— Antonio to Sebastian, urging murder.

Listening

I rediscovered my love for Needtobreathe while mowing the lawn and listening to The Heat. I stand by that album. There are so many little touches they add in the studio, that make it so rich and re-listenable. Little things; like windchimes, and horn accents, and layered guitar parts, that all add up.

I have also been reflecting on how we can imbue songs with meanings over the course our lives — meaning that the original creator could not have dreamed of. I think we do this with all art, and I think it is why art is what it is. I think the greater imminent tragedy of AI is not necessarily the difficulty of making a living as an artist, because it has always been hard, but the perception that people have of the practice of art. Its greatest good, to me, is the joy that it can give to the practitioner, regardless of how 'good' the end result it. So the next time you reach for AI to generate a picture or what have you, reach for a pencil and paper instead. It might not look professional, but it will be unique, and it will be something that only you could make. It will also avoid the truly staggering environmental cost of running AI servers.

#update #july2025

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

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O, call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart

— Shakespeare, Sonnet 139

One of the hardest things a person can do is the same mundane task every day. It is not hard because the act of it is difficult, but because it must be done every day, and because there is no break from it. Art is certainly accomplished this way. Athletic training is accomplished this way. Good deeds that change the world are accomplished this way. Even harder, consider a task that no one else wants to do because it brings no glory, like the tasks that are usually asked of slaves, or parents. Anyway, it is summer. Not sure what I would do without Shakespeare.

Writing

Have been plugging away. Am closing in on a readeable-for-other-people manuscript of book 2/3/endofseries. Have also been querying with a couple encouraging rejections. Grit is all I have left at this point, even though I do enjoy the process when I actually sit down to do it.

Music

Have been playing but not producing much. I mean I did write a song. I've got to make a habit to record more often when I am inspired, and more importantly when I am not.

Reading

Revived my ambition to read Death's End or 死神永生 as it is called in Chinese, the third book in the Three Body Problem series by Liu Cixin. I read a page a day and jot down at least five characters I don't know, then use Pleco to make flashcards and acquire vocab this way. I have to say that this feels a lot more effective than using a random app or flashcard deck. I did also listen to the English version some, just so I know what's going on a little bit. My goal is to be able to get my reading level high enough to not need the translation as much to just enjoy the story.

In English I have been reading Orlando by Virginia Woolf. Gotta love Virginia, she never lets me down. Orlando is perhaps her weirdest book, about a time traveling gender changing noble dude girl who likes writing. I believe she wrote it after To The Lighthouse, and if I remember correctly from her diaries it was a way for her to experiment and have fun after the strain of producing her vision so meticulously in Lighthouse. And I have to say that it is a wild ride, and very fun to see such a titan of an author just enjoying herself and having a good time in between her masterpieces.

As always, it's almost impossible to describe her books in a marketable way, because Virginia is all about the execution. Her imagination is so incredibly vivid and true to the weirdness and terror and ecstasy of existence that it's like trying to answer the query: so what is it like to be you? in a way that actually satisfies the hidden depths lurking over the abyss of that question mark. Here is a little excerpt about the rollercoaster of writing that I enjoyed:

“He soon perceived, however, that the battles which Sir Miles and the rest had waged against armed knights to win a kingdom, were not half so arduous as this which he now undertook to win immortality against the English language. Anyone moderately familiar with the rigours of composition will not need to be told the story in detail; how he wrote and it seemed good; read and it seemed vile; corrected and tore up; cut out; put in; was in ecstasy; in despair; had his good nights and bad mornings; snatched at ideas and lost them; saw his book plain before him and it vanished; acted his people's parts as he ate; mouthed them as he walked; now cried; now laughed; vacillated between this style and that; now preferred the heroic and pompous; next the plain and simple; now the vales of Tempe; then the fields of Kent or Cornwall; and could not decide whether he was the divinest genius or the greatest fool in the world.”

Honorable mentions also go to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl on my son's Yoto Player. The Charlie narrator is particularly inspiring, and as amazing as Gene Wilder is, I still like the book better, especially the full Oompa Loompa rhyme about Mike Teavee.

Listening

Still listening to Twenty One Pilots, getting hyped for their new album. Have been listening to Clancy but feeling the urge to get back into Trench. An honorable mention also goes to Beethoven. We have an album on my wife's old ipod touch that we play for the kids at bedtime and my goodness, I love Beethoven. According to my wife it is this CD which she got at Target back in the day. Moonlight Sonata, Fur Elise, and Ode to Joy are of course, beloved classics, but this Piano Trio in B Flat is just so gorgeous and dynamic. So many times Beethoven has kept my soul afloat waiting for my kids to fall asleep. Put on some headphones and let the song tell the story. I recommend giving it your full attention.

#update #June2025

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

Send me a kind word or a cup of coffee:

Patreon | Music | Podcast | Mastodon | Bookwyrm

— Sonnet 3, The Gospel of Eliphaz

“Lord, what a strange world in which a man cannot remain unique even by taking the trouble to go mad!”

— G.K. Chesterton, The Napolean of Notting Hill

I think that sonnet might hold some clues as to my mood for most of April. Yet I am optimistic today. The more I think and strive, the more I feel that joy is a discipline. And truly, the World is not going to make it easy except for the fortunate few blown upwards by the top of the wheel, to rejoice. Here's to trying, and here's to writing.

Writing

My toddler has been dropping a nap, which means my predictable writing time is not so predictable any more. I am planning to try and get up early at least a few days a week this month, and hopefully make it a habit going into the summer (which will also give me motivation to go to bed earlier). I am still plodding away on re-writing the climax and end of the book/series. Hopefully after this re-write it will be somewhat readable for other people. I am also working on an essay about re-reading Tolkien that I am hoping will show up later this month.

Music

I recorded a demo of my 'worship song,' and am working up the courage to maybe perform it in church. I am also hoping to get some more recordings done for Lit Songs, so that I can have a proper demo album of it. Am also really hoping to get together with friends to jam and play. It is so hard to find time, and it feels like a miracle whenever I can get together with people. I suppose that is normal for adult life with kids, but I wish it wasn't.

Reading

According to Bookwyrm I read Charlotte's Web and The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White, and The Napolean of Notting Hill by G.K. Chesterton. I enjoyed all of them. In fact, I enjoyed Charlotte's Web so much that I wrote a thing about it, that you can read on this blog! I am still reading like a spider with too many flies in its web, but I don't think that can be helped.

Listening

I fell off the cliff of Twenty One Pilots again. It started with Blurryface, than I went to Clancy, then Scaled and Icy. I have been admiring the mixes a lot. I think Scaled and Icy is perhaps one of the best mixed albums I've ever heard. By mix I mean the texture and overall quality of the sound. There are a great many instruments and elements on that disc, and you can hear every single one perfectly. Nothing is muddied over or too loud. Just one cohesive sound. As an amateur “mixer,” I can't overstate how hard it is to get different instruments and voices to agree. Anyway, the songs themselves do what Twenty One Pilots has always done for me in providing catharsis and reinterpretation for the daily pain of existence. Stay alive, friend.

#update #poetry #May2025

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

Send me a kind word or a cup of coffee:

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— For Once, Become

There will never be a safe or easy time to practice art. If anyone reads or listens to my art in the future they will only have the shallowest context. There is no way to diminish the very real suffering of the world and our time, nor can I find any loophole in my conscience that allows me to ignore it, but I also cannot allow it to stop me from creating. And so far as it feels like an insensitive heresy to say, there are generations of writers and artists who did not stop their art in periods of even more intense suffering. Many of them never saw profit or praise while they were living. We cannot choose the times into which we are born, “all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Writing

I am slowly pushing through, but I am now running into the messiness of my drafting. It is going slower now. But I'll get there eventually. Also querying a couple times a week. Already received a very encouraging rejection, so yay.

Music

I wrote a 'worship' song and am in the process of recording the demo and trying to polish it. I honestly don't know how I feel about it. It doesn't feel like “my song,” which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps it is a defense mechanism, as Tyler Joseph said. If the song is not good then I don't have to feel bad about myself because it is the song's fault. Was inspired by Pollyanna and Bob Marley (see below).

Reading

In March I read a lot of experimental and concept fiction, mainly short stories by Ted Chiang and Jorge Luis Borges and The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell. If you would like more in-depth-half-baked reviews of what I read you can follow me on Bookwyrm. I guess I just wanted to see how much you can achieve with experimental concept stuff, because I feel there is often a dichotomy between experimental sc-fi/fantasy and deep literary work. I can't say that Chiang or Russel fully impressed me. Their ideas were excellent, up there with the most excellent ideas in any sci-fi I've read, but especially in Chiang's case I felt that everything in the story was sacrificed to the idea. Characters are simply there (for Chiang) to highlight a consequence of the experimental idea. Russel was better. Borges was kind of a mixed bag in that regard. He lets his characters pull against the idea more, so to me they felt more consistently deep than Chiang's work. Anyway, my fragmented reading history, and the fragmented nature of this paragraph, represent the fragmented nature of my mind. Let me take a moment to dismantle and examine it like the mechanical being in Ted Chiang's Exhalation — I do a lot of things: writing, music, coding, guitar pedal and cabinet building, biking and bike maintenance, language study, crosswords... I have never considered myself gifted or special, but I do reject the notion that our mind has limited space, and there are a lot of way more talented people out there who can bust the myth that our brain is like a cabinet. But I do have limited time and energy, especially in this season of life. I need to cut down on my hobbies and focus on my writing and my music and my languages. — There, thanks. Lemme just re-assemble everything...

Listening

I discovered Bob Marley while skiing. One of the lifties was playing it and I heard “So don't treat me like a puppet on a string, cause I know how to do my thing. Don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb, I just wanna know when you're gonna come.” And I felt seen. Then I listened to the albums Exodus and Uprising and discovered just how deep a place Bob Marley is coming from. I don't really know much of the context, but I could feel the struggle against pain with love through the music and the lyrics. As someone who only knew “Three Little Birds” and “One Love,” it was lovely, and still is, to listen to. Some of my favorites include “So Much Things to Say,” “Forever Loving Jah,” and “Guiltiness.”

Bonus: Pollyanna (1960 film)

Since my family and I were able to take a vacation to NH, we visited the hometown of the author who wrote Pollyanna. Before we visited we watched the 1960 Disney movie and it was beautiful. Pollyanna, an orphaned missionary girl, comes to live with her aunt in a stuffy New England town. Despite the fact that she just lost her parents, she plays a game her father invented called “The Glad Game,” by finding something to be glad about no matter the situation. Since it is a stuffy New England town, everyone is grumpy about her gladness, but she ends up changing their hearts.

I realize it sounds rather sentimental and over-optimistic, but anyone who has ever experienced pain knows the necessity of cheerful hope. Haley Mills (who plays Pollyanna) does an incredible job of showing on her face just how shrewd Pollyanna is. She's not naive. She's fully aware how angry people get and how much it hurts when they put her down, but she perseveres in the love her father taught her. Yes, its Disneyfied, but it honestly doesn't take much away from the story. The scene where she explains the basis of the Glad Game (over 800 verses in the bible that tell us to Rejoice), while the Reverend of the town has a spiritual breakdown because he's been preaching fire and brimstone and realizes how misguided he's been is genuinely beautiful and moving.

Pollyanna is one who could sing with Bob Marley:

“So, old man river, don't cry for me I've got a running stream of love you see So, no matter what stages, oh stages Stages, stages they put us through We'll never be blue No matter what rages, oh rages Changes, rages they put us through We'll never be blue We'll be forever, yeah!”

Anyway. It was personally convicting because I am perpetually melancholy. Go watch it and cry. I'll be reading the book soon.

See you next month.

#update #poetry #April2025

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

Send me a kind word or a cup of coffee:

Patreon | Music | Podcast | Mastodon | Bookwyrm

— Hunter Dansin, Sonnet 2: Crutch Comforts

Well I have been writing sonnets, and my wife told me they are not half bad, so here's to being a poet. How easy it is to hold onto bitterness, and how tempting to heap scorn on perceived enemies and hopes disappointed. But the annihilater of reactionism is the truth that the only way forward is love. It is Martin Luther King Jr's “way of the strong man.” And how many that read this laugh bitterly and look at me like a doormat? Don't you think the man who most strongly feels indignation is the one most fervently acting in opposition to it? Those of us who strive to be kind, to love, to hope and live creatively are not blind. It is a fight. I am not quite sure who I am reacting to. Probably the news, this country's president, some circumstance in my own life. Well. It's not all bad. I've been writing. We are provided for. My family is beautiful.

Writing

I have been more or less steadily editing chapters of the last part of the book and it has been going about as well as I could hope. It is coming together I think, and I have been finding joy in it. I am bracing myself for the utter lack of structure towards the end though, and the work to flesh that together will probably be significant, but I will enjoy it more than querying, which (fingers crossed) I will begin doing for the first book this month. I just need to nail my comp titles down.

Audiobook

I think I am going to freeze work on it for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately it just takes too much time, and since I am seeking publication for the first novel it is probably a good idea to wait.

Music

But I do hope to produce some music. I still want to make a demo album for Lit Songs, and I made a small microphone upgrade which I am hoping will improve the vocals.

Reading

I almost accidentally titled this section “James Baldwin” while I was typing it, which would actually be a good summary of my February reading. I read two of his novels and a short story collection, and I loved it all. The usual tropes of ™Literature do not bother me with Baldwin, because he does not seem indulgent about it. He never loses his sense of purpose, and he has so much skill that no matter how ludicrous some of his character's behavior is it never feels unnatural. If you're curious about Baldwin but a little apprehensive, I would recommend the short story Sonny's Blues, and the novel Go Tell it on the Mountain.

And now I would like to ask, why do you read? I have been thinking about this question as I have been working my through The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf. It is a slow burn novel, with next to no plot, and is a good representation of what many people bounce off of when they try to read some, ahem, ™Literature. Even I found myself asking, “why am I reading this?” “Is anything going to happen?” “Why should I care about these well to do british folks on holiday?” And then about 124 pages in I was utterly engrossed in Woolf's description of a young woman simply anguishing in the meaninglessness and terror and beauty of existence as she frolicked on a windy knoll. It was more immersive than any immersive video game I have ever played, more captivating than any thrilling scifi novel, more magical than any fantasy — because it was so real and because Virginia's description of her lived experience was so visceral. It reminded me of what grabbed me about her when I barreled into To the Lighthouse for the first time. I do not mean to look down on scifi or fantasy or pop romance or what have you — they have their place (and I myself am writing a fantasy novel...) — But if you haven't challenged yourself to read something difficult or a little more “Lit” then please please try. It will be hard, and depending on what you pick you might just hate it. But try again, because when you find a novel that encapsulates your lived experience, and not only encapsulates but expands and stretches it beyond what you imagined, it is unlike any other reading, and it might just feed your soul. Oh, and skip the foreword unless you care about that sort of thing, it will probably make you want to read the book less.

Listening

In the vein of sounding pretentious I have also been listening to Handel's Messiah. I picked up the CDs at a thrift store a few years ago and bounced off it pretty quick the first time, but this time I just left the disc in the van and have been giving it a shot. The musical skill is undeniable, but I think, unless you are sitting there live to appreciate the living breathing musicians it can feel a little showoffy. The theme does not help this feeling, but after leaving it on for awhile the music started to sink into me a little, and I was able to listen more attentively. Specifically on disc 2, there is a refrain sung by a truly gifted singer, that says “Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto his sorrow,” and the voice and the melody brought me to tears. In this age where it is almost impossible to tell if “authentic” singers have had digital help to correct their meaningless whispers, it is really refreshing to hear true singers, people who can stand in front of an orchestra without amplification or pitch correction and blast the Savior's sorrow from their belly. I had the great honor to take voice lessons from a true opera singer once, and while rock and roll singers have undeniable skill, the world that opened up when he opened his mouth was infinitely more vast and wide. It is a really impressive art, and I think it is a pity that opera seems to have become a joke to the mainstream. Anyway, here's a link to an excerpt that contains “Behold and See”. I'd recommend trying to listen meditatively with headphones so you can hear the true depth of the singer's voice.

Well that took a turn. See you next month.

#update #poetry #March2025

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

Send me a kind word or a cup of coffee:

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— Shakespeare, Sonnet LXV, found in Another Country by James Baldwin

“I must believe, I must believe, that the heavy grace of God, which has brought me to this place, is all that can carry me out of it.”

— James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room

My plans were quite shattered this month, by the flu, by life, by myself. Nothing dramatic, but enough to keep me away from my goals. I know that with young kids I shouldn't have any expectations, and that it won't last forever, but the pace is grueling, especially when you get sick. It seems cruel that one of the sweetest seasons of parenthood is also one of the most physically draining. My mind says, “savor, enjoy, celebrate this,” but my body says “sleep, escape, comfort yourself.” I must believe.

Writing

I have decided to query my book, which means I will have to take it down from sale. If you want to get a “pre-release” copy please order it by the end of this month, since I plan to start querying in March. It is a step that I think I have been preparing unconsciously to take for a long time. I don't think I was ready when I self-published it, but now I am. I have never really had sales, and I will never have what it takes to drive those sales, so therefore I need a publisher if I ever want to make writing more than a hobby, and good God how I want it to be more than a hobby.

Audiobook

I think I will leave Part 1 of the audiobook up on YouTube, but I will probably freeze work on Part 2 for now while I get ready to query. Life is just too busy right now.

Music

Thankfully I have still been playing and practicing, and you can check my YouTube channel later tonight for my Tiny Desk submission if all goes to plan.

Reading

I picked up James Baldwin for Black History Month and have not been disappointed by Giovanni's Room and Another Country. I still like Go Tell it on the Mountain the best, but it has been very humbling and enriching to read these books. They have a lot of sex and a lot of angst, which would normally put me off, but Baldwin writes with such humility, boldness, and honesty that I bear it willingly for the expansion of my experience. I feel as though I've been in his skin for a little while, which I suppose means he wasn't entirely successful with the novels, since I am very conscious of him as a narrator — but such is the nature of fiction that “success” depends not so much on the work as on the reader's definition of it. To me, Baldwin is just as successful as Steinbeck, and maybe even more successful if growth of soul is the definition of success. I can't recommend Go Tell it on the Mountain enough. It is truly a miracle of a book.

Oh, and for anyone who cares, I made an account on Bookwyrm, a decentralized Goodreads alternative, so that I could track my reading and write reviews. They are highly opinionated and rather slapdash, but that's what the internet brings out of me.

And that's it for this month. Stay safe out there.

#update

Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.

Send me a kind word or a cup of coffee:

Patreon | Music | Podcast | Mastodon | Bookwyrm