Tag: fail

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

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Q: What part (of his legendary career) was hardest for you?

Neil Diamond: It was always pretty hard. I was a little embarrassed. I was flattered and I was scared.

Q: What were you scared of?

ND: Being found out is the scariest thing. You can hope, because we all have a facade and the truth be known to all of them, I’m not some big star. I’m I’m just me.

—  Neil Diamond. Excerpt from an interview with Anthony Mason about the Broadway production of “A Beautiful Noise,” a musical based on his life.

Watch the full interview on CBS Sunday Morning on April 2, 2022 here: Neil Diamond on Parkinson’s and “A Beautiful Noise”. The life of singer-songwriter Neil Diamond has been dramatized, “warts and all,” in the Broadway musical “A Beautiful Noise.” Diamond, now 82, talks with correspondent Anthony Mason about continuing to sing; his diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease (a condition for which he was, he says, long in denial); and about the calm that has – finally – moved into “the hurricane of my life.”

If the video links above don’t work, try this one: CBS Sunday Morning – Neil Diamond Interview

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

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But now, Dorothy wondered: What was failure? What was success? Ribbons swirling in a cold tank. Life was not a story that ended on a resolution or a revelation. It was like this puppet show—a gentle, ongoing state of ups and downs that contained moments of illusory transcendence and ultimately built to nothing, no epiphanies, or so many epiphanies that they ran together and were forgotten. Maybe it breathed like a paper flower, expanding and contracting. Maybe it was something you did just to pass the time.

— Christine Smallwood, The LIfe of the Mind (Hogarth, March 2, 2021)

Photo: Lily

Running. With Perforated Edges.

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6:39:47 a.m. April 10th. The time stamp on photo.

I recall the moment. The end of my run, I’m rounding the last corner before home, breathing heavily.

Morning sun. A light warm hue painting the tips of trees and bushes. Beautiful.

I slip off my glove, the tip of my index finger is moist, trembling, and sticking to the screen. I wipe it dry and slide the menu bar from Pano, Portrait, Video, Slo-Mo, Portrait, and stop on Photo. Pleased, I pause for a moment longer, admiring the view, so glad I was able to catch the moment. 

I walk the rest of the way home, catching my breath.

I’m sitting in the backyard, 30° F, sweat drying, goosebumps form on skin. I shiver. Legs sore, but that good sore after finishing a run.

I open the camera app to check out the photo.

I tap the image, and it pops up. It stutters for a moment, then a series of frames, and it stops. Irritated.

I tap the image again. And there on the top of the image, a “Live” tag.  WTF is that?

I tap the image again. It stutters, pans through a series of frames, and then stutters to silence. Jesus. You can’t even get this right.

I grab the phone and slide my index finger along the menu options, and don’t see a “Live” option. Damn it!

Index finger. Dotted line. Bad outcome. Mind draws up the Moment.

35 years later, like yesterday. My hands trembling. The course of Life would change based on the GMAT test results in that ever so thin envelope. Before I tear it open, the tip of my index finger slides along the perforated edge, my skin tingling as it passes each tiny raised dot.  I don’t recall who was with me at the time: “How’d you do?” I walked away, needing to be alone, needing to be quiet, needing to be still.

I’ve been dragging that anvil around for 35 years.

I turn back to the photo. Love photos. But it’s clear, cameras, are not my thing.

The photo syncs on iCloud to my laptop. (Magic!)

I convert the Live Photo to a still image.  Upload it to the blog post.  And pause.  Didn’t notice my shadow in the photo until now.

I run my finger around the silhouette. There you are DK. 

You caught yourself in the shot.

Your legs look a bit long, but you turned out to be ok.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

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You have to find this stuff, you have to find things, these fragments that you hold to yourself. They become like a life raft, especially as time goes on. As I’ve got older I’ve realised there is a thin line between surviving this life and going under and the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you. And what’s meaningful to you will be not meaningful to someone else. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn’t matter what it is, go and find them and find some way to hold them close to you. Go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. Whatever it is. These are the fragments I have shored against my ruins.

— Michael Sheen, from “David Tennant Does A Podcast with Michael Sheen” (April 22, 2019)

Notes:

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

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True story: One summer, years ago, I went tubing…The sun was blazing, and the water was cool. It was a perfect day to close your eyes and let the current carry you. I was enjoying myself, until we rounded the final bend and saw the parking lot. I leaned back to get my arms in the water and I started to kick and paddle. In a froth of churning water, I passed my mom, my sister, my boyfriend and my brothers, and as I reached the dock, I shouted out, “I won!”

That’s me. All my life, I’ve made lists and set deadlines, never content, or even able, to just glide.

That kind of drive has served me well when aimed at challenges within my control, like writing a novel…I never stopped hoping that if I worked hard enough, wanted it badly enough, I’d finally get the acclaim that I craved…

That did not happen. And my brain, which had propelled me toward so many successes, could not push me past disappointment. Instead of focusing on everything that had gone right, including how lucky I was to make a living as a writer, it got stuck on what had gone wrong. Let’s think about it! my brain suggested, like a Roomba endlessly butting itself into a corner. Let’s think about it a lot. Especially at 3 in the morning. Let’s go over every single choice. Let’s dwell.

I tried yoga. I attempted meditation. Nothing helped. Instead, each spiritual setting and inner-growth-focused class presented new opportunities to compete: I held that pose for longer than anyone in the class. I’m way more Zen than she is. Finally, I remembered reading about how learning something new — creating new neural pathways — was a way to send your thoughts in different directions.

And so, after a 35-year hiatus, I started taking piano lessons again.

I had been an indifferent piano student as a kid…By high school, I had bumped up against the limits of my natural abilities. So I quit. I turned my attention toward activities at which I could excel…

Photo: videvo