#john pass

[sharkboats]

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[heaveninawildflower]

1) Mechanism of a pocket watch

2) Clock faces

3) Diagrams for the setting-out of a sundial

4) Clock with chimes

5) Bi-metallic pendulums, constructed to resist changes in length, and therefore period, due to temperature variations

6) Construction of clepsydrae or water clocks

7) Construction of sextant (?) dial

8) Compensation balances, and escapements

9) Mechanism of a timekeeper

10) Clock work.

Engravings (1809-1810) with watercolour by John Pass (active 1797-1815). Published by J. Wilkes.

Images and text information courtesy Wellcome Collection.

[pinkgumiib3ar]

my dinner view Sunday Feb 11 2018 

[latenightlarking]

house posts

One world, here and beyond us so that reaching for it, into it

hog-ties the shaman blind in his blanket  face-down on the floor, seals out every sliver  of light from the windows to sound the rattles

from everywhere, the muffled voices, sparks and crescendos erratic in the air.  Whether spirits

or apparatus who can say with the fine threads of the four directions stretched among the supplicants miraculously intact next morning, and by morning

we're boating, skeptical, talking metaphor, joking. There's our parallel universe: the bluffs

of arbutus and shore pine slipping past, the island we're approaching friends call

"going to Greece" when we go there for its shimmering slopes in high summer  of dry moss and gold, flattened grasses, its hollows here and there as welcoming

as a wife's body, as sharply aromatic. Wet rock, yarrow, manzanita.

I've no vows, no chanting but this to hold these shocking constancies, expanses, open

spaces between the trees complete and sadder than made places...

          the trees          just where

          house posts      would be.

Stepping amidst them, within, I'm over- hearing my own voice disown me, "yes,

              you belong here               but cannot stay."

-- John Pass

[isleofapplepies]

OH. I forgot to tell you. When I came into my British poetry class today a surprise was waiting for me (and my classmates). There were two Canadian writers, John Pass and Theresa Kishkam. They came for a discussion of literature and author reading. And they were incredibly lovely.

And I sort of wanted to talk to them or ask questions but I couldn't think of any, or didn't want to ask the ones I could think of because I did not want to draw attention to myself.

But there was this Romanian exchange student who asked the exact question that sometimes tortures me late at night.

She asked if they think it is possible for a writer to write in their second language and be good at it. (My inner response: a/it is, b/ see Joseph Conrad, Milan Kundera and others, and c/no matter what they say it doesn't matter because it won't stop me.) And even though I no longer seek reassurance of this kind (when I have doubts I just tell myself it takes time to get to a certain level, just like when you're writing in your native language, and the idea of just having to work comforts me because I can work hard, that I will gladly do) it is still nice to hear someone support your stance. John Pass told that girl to write in any language she is comfortable with. And I was really taken aback by the simplicity of the answer, and the encourangement and excitement in his voice.

Then I thought: this is really a good advice, isn't it? Writing is something you do with passion, because you love it, because you want to do it. Using all means possible, using the best instruments you have available.... that's it. To use an example: Why should you keep doing only karate, even if you've been doing it for ages, when fencing feels more natural to you? There will be shared elements between the two, things you learned while doing one sport that will stay with you and make it easier when you're learning a new one. It's all about finding your own way, the right way. For you, personally. 

So. Write. Whatever you want, in any language that you want, as long as you feel comfortable with what you're doing. I like this advice.