George Fredrick Handel's Messiah Concert:Tremont Temple Baptist Church, Boston

Donna and I usually spend Sunday evening at Park Street, but his week we skipped the weekly service to attend a performance of Handel's Messiah. As I can be interested in the history of architecture, after I told Donna that we could stop at any church at any time when she felt the need to pray, even if the church was empty, we have visited several of the "historic churches of Boston", She liked the Temple and was impressed. I was looking forward to going because I've known that Charles Dickens, John Gilbert and Jenny Lind performed there. We were invited by the Orchestra Manager, who is a friend of Donna's and her supervisor as a church librarian; so it was a nice "Hello". On Handel, I prefer Classical to jazz and blues and listen to British Rock- the violins in the middle were furious in 16th notes that may have been 32nd notes and I do like elaborate composition. The choral at times was gorgeous (overdubbed parts?) at first listen. Donna sings in church every week, so there was added the hymn Come All Ye Faithful and Angels We Have Heard On High. I tried to explain that I had read a novel entitled The Memorial Hall Murder where the detective Hamilton Dow solves a mystery revolving around a performance of Handel's Messiah where there is a mysterious murder in Mem 201 and Memorial Hall explodes during the performance. Now I can see that the two works of art are very separate, a mystery novel where the Dean jumps off the church roof and a religious masterwork of orchestral and choral music.

The Bay Psalm book : being a facsimile reprint ...

The Bay Psalm book : being a facsimile reprint ...:

'via Blog this'

Please allow The Bay Psalm book on exhibit without feeling the necessity to read all of it.

My fiancee, whom I now live with, is a librarian at a church on Tremont Street, and apparently Old South, on Boylston Street, (which is a pretty church) just parted with its copy of this book, the first book printed in the United States. It is from 1640 and it is actually difficult to find graves dating back that far in the Boston churchyards. King's Chapel dates from 1685,- we have one of their coffee mugs that bears the date.

The book's importance is Puritanism- anything written by them that was new and not a direct quote from the Bible is even more fascinating when it is not the "word of God",  although it was monarchy orientated and or post-Lutheren, it was "stuff they really just made up", like what to do on Sundays after leaving Europe.
It's importance to us is that she prays alone whenever needed; and consequently attends church because its something she likes, whether the church is empty or not. If I'm invited, I'm agnostic, as a poet, but it is her "freedom", not freedom confronted by tyranny, but just undiluted self-expression.

The above link is to The Bay Psalm book;  keep it, as much or as little.

Park Street Church,Tremont Street, Skimming Oliver Wendal Holmes-Pages from an old volume of life; a collection ...

During a reading of Ephesians, the above theologian was mentioned. The photograph is from a volume of the writings of Oliver Wendal Holmes. My confidence in Holmes is more as a poet than a theologian, so I'm only skimming for information, not profound insights that may or may not be debatable. If you can guess who the theologian in the picture is, the below link will bring you to what the poets of the Atlantic Monthly wrote about him. Pages from an old volume of life; a collection ...:

'via Blog this' In regard to the sermon itself, the passage from Ephesians was the most succinct, compressed summary of Christian ethics you could ask for, it ending with a supplication for Thanksgiving, but thankful that you are not lead into temptation. (and sing praise) In a way, if it is remove from the metaphysics of The Bible, it is a pretty good code of living- for some reason the minister repeated the word "transcendent" and I found it irrelevant to the passage, in that it seemed to be merely the words of an Apostle or Disciple, exhorting us to live right, or morally... and of course what works is that to pray is to worship in both thought and deed to where it does become a Utopia, where we would not even pollute the earth unneccessarily.

Donna and I have a wild rabbit,

Donna and I keep finding rabbits in the wild. This is the fourth. We first found one in Mount Auburn Cemetary. Then we found one near the garden at the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow House. Then another again in the Mount Auburn Cemetary. I'm a little tired to write passages from a philosophical novel tonight, but the doctors wanted to test me for cancer. I tested negative for prostate but for a week we didn't know. The in the courtyard behind our apartment at one o clock in the morning, there was another rabbit. Its where my ashtray is- not that I don't take lung seriously, but we didn't think it was lung, so I still use nicotine. I'm tired tonight to make it a work of art, but tonight I called Donna over to where I was to show her that the rabbit returned. Its wild and our courtyard is to a building with 19 floors. Physically tired from the tests and from the roses still on the table. We thought I could have had cancer, one that is not emphysema- but I don't. We did go to church, which on the surface is a scene from a slow-moving movie in itself and I did give her a thank you. I was reading Mr. Britiling Sees It Through by H.G. Wells before the service. I read ten volumes by the British author E. Phillips Oppenheim during the summer and there were two more in the store; I have a game where I look for hardcover first editions of novels in written before 1925 for a dollar to three dollars and I leave the five dollar copies there, most are copies published before 1930, and never having read an H. G. Wells before it seemed interesting that he wrote "Adult Fiction", which he did. So thoughts of one's own impending demise and a morbid somber mood make for deep fiction, not tonight, but I'll keep out some reflection. Before seeing the rabbit, which I didn't know would return when I was not in solitude, I called in a car accident, which was right in front of me, my test scheduled for the next morning. The person needed a phone and I thought quickly enough. Is it in middle age that mostly if you just think quickly enough when you need to, then most things feel as they should, and you know that you've gone from one day to the next. And then there's the contemplative way to live in between. (I mentioned 19 floors because each year, to contrast we visit Rockport Massachusetts, I can right now hear the train; our rabbit is surrounded by Harvard, MIT, and depending how lost you get, probably the Boston Museum of Science.)

Donna and I had lunch in West Brookfield (Salem Cross);Longfellow's The Wayside Inn

Longfellow's Wayside Inn is painted pink, or so it seems; we only drove around it and I wouldn't know if it is open as a restaurant, but adjacent to it is a beautiful church, Martha Mary Chapel and an old Grist Mill, with a waterwheel, that seemed abandoned, but was still operating. The Mill, open to the public, had s staircase to the second floor and is preserved as it was when it had been in use. It's pretty enough to visit if you don't know what to expect. We then continued for what would be a 200 mile ride to a farm Phillipston, Massachusetts. We had lunch at the Salem Cross Inn in Westbrook, Massachusetts. The restaurant is on the national historic register as being built in 1705, and it provided an imginative account of it having a Hexmark from the "Queen Anne War". Part of the romance of our dating is to find "historic" places. The hexmark is a roman numeral ten with a vertical line through the middle. I did notice Holy Lord hinges in the interior, if that is in fact what they are in New England. The dining room is post and beam and there was actually a wooden peg driven into one of the beams: it is a colonial tavern (hip roof). To quote the menu, "this mark was used to protect the inhabitants against, 'ye evils of witchcraft and diverse other manifestations of devilltry.'". "Inhabitants" is a word frequently used in the handwritten history of Brookfield from that time period, although all I found was the town records of their committee of selectmen, which, although written with quill,only describes land grants and that white oaks marked with three initials or letters were used to mark off where began each property, which is only of so much interest to someone who would skim it thoroughly- but they seemed to be self-governed colonists in certain respects. There are artifacts in the restaurant, although I didn't notice any muskets or pewter. The thing was that "She liked it." After dinner, we looked into the other dinning rooms. I told her that it was probably ok to peek into them while people were having dinner and they were like museum rooms and it got her interest, to where she kept exploring until I mentioned that it lead to what seemed to be the entrance private residence. But, most importantly, the atmosphere held her interest now that we had finished dinner. After having before visited a fishery to see trout, which happen to grow fairly large in size before they are restocked, we found Enfield, Massachusetts. We watched a television clip of a brief fragment of a silent film photographed by a theater owner from the twenties of the town. It is now the Quabbin Reservoir and looks like an ordinary lake. Four towns were flooded and have long since been completely submerged, the residents having been relocated during the thirties. My later explanation at first was rural poverty during a time of small companies; but then postpone historical context. We continued to a farm in Phillipston, where other than my having coffee and Donna having cider and donuts, there were rabbits. She remarked that two of them were sleeping together in a basinet and that like us, were inseparable. From this blog, you wouldn't know that its been approximately ninety-six to ninety eight percent, of every hour for the last year, and a similar year before that, which is the only way by which you would prepare to do that, it being almost too long for her to now mention it, but very endearing. It would be more, not less than ninety eight. In the paddock, with a bull and several goats was the first sheep Donna had ever seen. It was black, as were the many cows and calves we had seen earlier this afternoon, and their not being brown, my not knowing whether they were gernseys or holstiens. The sheep does in fact have a unique sound when it bleats. Yesterday, I was in a bookstore on the otherside of the river and left a very inexpensive copy of English Poetry 3 of The Harvard Classics (Colliers or Scribners?) there which could have been seperated from the set, thinking that most of the other volumes are, except the Donne, are from too ancient a time period and that I had a public domain copy of them on the internet and that I not yet finished with what I'm reading. It's an exceptional anthology and truly would have been a souvenier that includes Tennyson if you've ever seen a copy from 1911. I would have had it with me but then again, its not an old enough copy of the poetry itself and I didn't know we would be going to The Wayside Inn.

Donna and I visited the birthplace of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Brookline, Massachusetts- National Historic Site

John Fitzgerald Kennedy National Historic Site - John Fitzgerald Kennedy National Historic Site:

'via Blog this' Please visit the above link should you be interested. Donna and I visited the birthplace of John F. Kennedy in Brookline. Really, we were just out for a walk on a date together and after frozen yogurt, I suggested we explore parts of the city I with which I am unfamiliar. That is how we found Marsh Chapel at Boston University and now, when we are near by, we walk towards it and Donna goes inside to pray for a minute or two- its usually open and she uses it for silent meditation or supplication. I knew that there was a subway line towards the city parallel to the one on Commonwealth Aveneue that transverses B. U., both are the green line, so I thought that we would just head in that direction, an maybe we would have enough luck to pass the birthplace of John F. Kennedy. Not far down there's a sign marking 1/4 mile through the residential section, so I encourage her to go. When we found it, it was a house about the same size as the one that I grew up in, which was on the North Shore, except that it was 40 years older. But it has shingles and two dormers. Technically I was almost lost, but Donna was nice enough about exploring, which made the date all that more valuable. Then she was more pleased than I was. Its a guided tour, as the house is owned by the National Park service. He was in fact born in the house with one sister and an older brother; the other siblings were born in another house nearby: I have since left a note somewhere that it was more of a Rose Kennedy musuem, but the nursery where he slept is preserved with their belongings. Significantly, Donna has a knack for finding an interest in the women of history, irrespective of the part they may have played. We we visited the Paul Revere house last summer I believe she was interested in the Colonial women. The bedrooms are restored to how they were during 1920, and Donna thought it was interesting that Kennedy's mother had attended a convent. But I was there is his boyhood home, so it restored Kennedy as a New Englander, rather than a shattered myth (don't tell his ghost, but it was getting to be that Ronald Reagan, and everyone like him was a dipsomaniac)...but I was there in the actual house looking at the staircase that lent a human element, a human element that could be felt. I saw his desk and remembered that Scott Fitzgerald claimed to have written his novels on a desk that had once belonged to Francis Scott Key. Most of all it is intact. It is really a typical residence from the 1920's, with a couple of finer things added. I write fairly extensively about the silent film from that era and read British novels from that decade, maybe nine or ten of them in the last three months, so my interest went further than it being the house of a President- which it is. He had a copy of National Geographic in the living room; my magazine collection is of movie fan magazines from the twenties, mostly issues of Picture Play. There is an old telephone in the hallway, by the stairs Most of all, we needed the date and it was tucked away on a side street, the same thing having happenned one afternoon when she and I hurriedly decided to "take in" the Boston Anthenuem, which too is small and interesting because it is unique. The postcard is from Donna; its obviously not the same one that she bought today and added to our collection. Entry added later: This Weekend to begin Autumn I was hoping that visiting the Kennedy birthplace would begin Autumn, which it nicely did. In regard to that, in Boston, the really is suppossedly a (Swedish) Pirate Party that is registered a third party; so actually Kennedy was more a politician than author. (There is a story that, for about a year before my marriage-then-divorce-then-engaged-for-second-marriage, I lived in the house of Senator Charles Summner, which is in Boston and does exist, and I may have attended book-signings or poetry-readings while there). But I do study the period of the twenties, their film, their novels and sometimes their poetry- the Kennedy birthplace is a museum of the Twenties, and novels put their protagonists in imaginary settings of that nature. The only thing being the art that Kennedy had was a reproduction of Whister's painting of his mother. Saturday I wanted to begin the Autumn by continuing with the weather. The leaves have not yet begun to change and went to the bookstore. I've been reading and collecting the novels of a British novelist, E. Phillips Oppenheim and have been buying first edition copies for one to three dollars each. After looking for twenty minutes through the stacks, which seemed full of first editions of the numerous novels written by John Galsworthy, before conceding to buy the Galsworthy before having to leave I found a copy of The Governors by E. Phillips Oppenheim, bringing my collection of first editions from 1907-1937 to ten volumes which cost me fourteen dollars. The publishers were Little, Brown and Company or A. L Burt, the two exections being one Ward Lock and one Hodder and Stoughton. I've read eight since Oppenheim since June and am presently reading the ninth: The Cinema Murder The Passionate Quest The Treasure of Martin Hews The Wrath to Come The Golden Beast The Strange Boarders of Palace Crescent General Besserley's Second Puzzle Box The Malafactor The Illustrious Prince The Governors It took two, now beginning three months with the volume I'm presently reading and they are all first edtions- all found in the only used bookstore I know really left in Boston. There were several old bookstores in Harvard Cambridge Massachusetts and I usually say that's why I moved here, but they have mostly left. Sunday was saved for Donna's church service. She's the librarian at the Park Street Church and the service on again on Ephesians. As a philosophy student that's agnostic, you might like beginning with Ephesians if it isn't what you usually read. My writings were quickly jotting down that the fact that life might be absurd doesn't matter as much because love is both an abstract concept and an action, so if you require to answer what might transcend us, absurdity is only an abstract concept, like heaven, therefore love that exists can supplant meaning that exists, where you would only then require that existence improves upon essence, not only as knowledge of essence but as love now in action. Donna, "after going to the birthplace of John Kennedy" sang loudly, and clearly and joyfully in church this week. It might also have something do with her being librarian at the church every other week. Actually, the church was there during the lifetime of John Quincy Adams, who live around the corner near the old bookstore, and to people that live in Boston it has only notoriously been just a plaque. This week I had dinner at the church as there was a student fair for Christians now attending local Universities and Colleges, though I didn't engage in anymore than evesdropping.

Donna and I hadn't been to a movie in a while- she works in church library in Downtown Boston

The service today was actually from Ephesians and included in the hymns was How Great thou art. You, might say that the word "cosmic" replaced the word "transcendentalist" in the service, but still, I recognized the expression "universal truths". I'm not sure whether Ephesians includes the transubstiation, or transfiguration, of Christ at the moment, but the ascension to heaven was mention, meaning it would postulate whether "this is true because Christ was resurrection" or not, but there was a hint that the "cosmological" certainly includes a possible relation to Christ, particularly through faith. While Donna was working in the church library, which is in the heart of Downtown Boston, I noticed a shelf of ecclesiastical poetry titled "inklings" which she pointed out to me on the way back to the apartment, and I said that I thought it meant "Meditations". There might have been The Holy Sonnets of Donne, whom I think was one of the greatest British poets as an artist. And yet while she was shelving books I was reading a British novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim entitled The Illustrious Prince about a passenger on the Luisitania. My copy could be a first edition hardback; most likely it is. Donna mentioned that she wants to see every movie Jennifer Anniston ever makes,but we were early and she noticed the poster for this film. I had fried shrimp this time.

Visit to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Grave, a turtle, a rabbit-Donna is a new librarian at the Park Street Church

Longfellow's poetical works:

'via Blog this'

Please use the above link to view a superbly illustrated copy of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. This afternoon Donna and I found the poet's grave while walking through Mount Auburn Cemetary. Its quickly and easily found by using a map, but not if following the the road and paths- we had been walking an hour and were trying to find the easiest reachable exit when we found his tomb. We began by finding William Ellery Channing, the theologian and circled the perimeter towards the back of the cemetary. We found a pond that has a gravity fed fountain and and encountered a turtle. Then when we thought there wouldn't be any rabbits, Donna spotted a very small one that didn't try to avoid us while it was eating. Donna found a grave named Lockwood with an angel and children and noticed that there were family spots that reserved places for those still living- she usually goes into a Church alone to pray whenever we find one open- I started to offer that to her while we were in Rockport and she usually takes a moment of silent reflection whenever we pass an open Cathedral,  previous summers she has included the Old North and King's Chapel to where she could kneel at the altar- so I connected her idea that not all the graves were from a different century with her praying at the cemetary church. The church at Mount Auburn has beautifull stained glass in someone you happen to be with needs to exersize their individual need to pray or intrinsic individuality. Historically, I like the churchyards that date from before Mount Auburn, specifically, Tremont Street and maybe those near Harvard. The news since the week we spent in Rockport this year is that Donna is a new librarian at the Park Street Church library. I was impressed. I believe it was built in 1809, and I was reading their original principles of founding the church and they are jampacked-a- a-crashcourse with theological thought and precepts as to why the original twelve married couples that began the church carried on the ideas on causality established during the 1600's- that belief in the Lord as Savoir was a requirement of belonging to the "Congregation" and with that an outline of precepts that we to be adhered to devotedly. But she loves being a church librarian and can attend the service after.
Honestly, I go to the cemetary for the Art, and maybe the serenity of finding a rabbit. I didn't notice as many statues this year, although there were some. I found a bust situated in the middle of a crypt by looking though the door into an otherwise empty mausoleum (if your ever there the name on it was Borne).
The link at the top of this blog show a superbly illustrated British copy of the poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, which I thought I'd recommend for perusal.
Honestly, this summer I'm reading the author E. Phillips Oppenheim this summer and in now way regret it. During June and July of 2013 I've read the novels The Cinema Murder, The Passionate Quest, The Treasure House of Martin Hews, The Wrath to Come and The Golden Beast. All by Oppenheim written from 1917-1928. To begin August, I'm now reading a sixth novel written by Oppenheim, The Strange Boarders of Palace Crescent, written a little later, in 1934. I like his fiction enough and hope his command of the language and artistic expression of imagination finds its way to my writing. Its steady-during a busy summer where I could have found even more time to enjoy reading them.

Scott Lord Silent Film In regard to how pleased I am, not only does Donna sing hymns at the Park Street Church, which she enjoys and therefore I'm glad for her, but the church shares a view of the Tremont Street cemetary, one of our oldest, with the adjacent Boston Anthenuem, the most beautiful library of its size you could picture.

Scott Lord: Movie For Rockport, Massachusetts, please view.

We had superb waffles for breakfast four mornings in a row in Rockport, Massachusetts.
 Donna said that getting a taxi, rather than carrying luggage was pretty good for my birthday, so please view this movie, which I added tonight due to its atmosphere. A seance at an house by the sea, overlooking the ocean.
 The companion film to it is the film The Uninvited, with Ray Milland, and I'll try to get a copy to put in a playlist with this one as a double feature- soon. So, if you are near Rockport and got similar whether we did, please accept this film as complimentary and as my suggestion.

I found a turtle, dusk at Back Beach,Front Beach, Sunset at Motif Number One

I remarked that it was a dark sunset set at Motif Number One, it actually being nightfall by the time we left. After dinner I was looking for a way to Back Beach. Last year Donna and I had visited Front Beach during the afternoon and she wanted to return. I had noticed that the landscaping to Millbrook Meadow was still in progress, whereas this year the public park was completed. There's a small wooden bridge and, a stairway that I asked if her and I could try. There happenned to be an old swing set and she wanted to use the swing, her saying, "I remember." Then she spotted a small waterfall, which is man-made cascading rocks that the brook travels over, when I heard a bullfrog. Apparently there might have been a waterwheel years ago, which has vanished, but its name is The Mill Pond, and has been there since the 1700's. A turtle, about the size of a small dish or paper plate, was swimming in the shallow water untill it finally neared the surface-we then exited the park, which is across the street from Front Beach. Front Beach is sand; Back Beach is almost entirely rock and or pebbles; they both lay adjacent. As the sun went down I had a coffee on Bearskin Neck as the rain held. It was cloudy, so there really wasn't any sunset, which in itself was a nice effect as we passed Motif Number One. To make it an even more interesting Rockport, while the Little Art Cinema was closed for the evening, the Rockport Town Hall had a light on, so we stopped in for a minute. Downstairs there were old paintings from local artists, which, although they might not be renown or exceedingly valuable, were well worth the pleasant suprise, one I remember being of Motif Number One by an obscure artist named Sam Coty.

First week of Summer, Rockport Massachusetts

They actually knocked after breakfast while I was in the shower with my (Dell) INSPIRON mini, which doesn't require a wi-fi signal anywere, which was poetic, lyrically. She laughed when I mentioned that there was a hawk over Rockport; there is usually one that I see every morning near our apartment. In the shop where she bought starfish earrings they happenned to carry A Gift from the Sea, the book that shew brought with to read on the train. I found the passage early in it where she writes, "I return my Gift from the Sea", which apparently was a sea shell and I asked her if the poetry of it had been whether or not one of her children had handed her a seashell which she threw back into the ocean, but Donna is still reading the volume and didn't seem to answer.

The Cinema Murder by E. Phillips Oppenheim

I haven't blogged for a ten days as I've been reading a novel, The Cinema Murder written by E. Phillips Oppenheim in 1917. It was made into a movie during 1919. The novel was great, the denoument resolved in the last chapter. Characters connected. The detective only shows up during three scenes, and yet it is a romance drama that skims into an adventure plot centered around the loves of a playwright (It switches genres?) enclosure: My hawk is still here, "the hawk", which may be an osprey, has become a daily occurence. While reading the novel, most things went as they do, Donna went to the Park Street Church to sing hymns and I once again realized that at one time it was Kierkegaard or nothing while I wanted to write a novel, but this time I realized that I have read alot of Par Lagerkvist, who writes about the spiritual. Honestly, the minister at Park Street can go off into tributaries that resist being tangents, the text from old testament scripture was if you ask God for Wisdom, then all wisdom is from God. And we had dinner again at Boston University West, but didn't visit Marsh Chapel due to the rain. The great love novel, sex is love novel, that I should be writing would have fit well into this week, and yet....not quiet enough?...it is on hold; I should have absconded some vocabulary from the novel I was reading, like "murmured" or "retorted", just to make it a work of art, which is what The Cinema Murder is, an artistic endeavor about the loves of a playwright that was read by Frances Marion, who wrote the screenplay to its adaption- the odd thing is that I write a webpage about "Lost Films, Found Magazines" with the premise that if the work of art on film is lost and there is no copy, then it may have been published as a magazine article in short story form. Scott Lord:Silent Film

Donna took communion-Harvard Square Mayfair

Donna and I left the Harvard Square Mayfair early to go to the Park Street Church in Boston. She's thrilled with the dress she got, which is like a sarong. I'll note that I did in fact see one of the renowned Sidewalk Sam chalk drawings, which was an imitation of a Cezanne, with Cezanne's name on top. She has a thing for yogurt when she's there. Donna sang beautifully in Church- better than ever. The honest thing to do would be to type in the Lord's Prayer, Pater Noster, as it is given at Park Street, so that you would know what I disagree with, or what I don't adopt rather- but I do listen while I'm there when it is repeated collectively. Our Father, who art in heaven; Hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our coming day's bread; And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors; And lead us not into trial, but deliver us from the Evil One, For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever, Amen. Personally, that's not the Lord's Prayer, tentatively, I doubt skeptically its from the Latin. Remember it appears twice in the Bible- once as a doxology and it is in Matthew and Luke if I remember correctly. Personally, I think when we adopted the Bible, or when it "spread", for one thing, Old English had already become affected by Norse, properly, that the Norman Conquest wasn't the first time that they had really met, therefore Latin is the standard. More importantly, in the Lord's prayer- Lead us not into Temptation, but Deliver us from Evil, means "keep us free from Sin", and therefore Keep the paths of the Lord Strait, with an emphasis on the Kingdom of Christ, as a prince-figure sent to earth to heal the sick and perform miracles. It to me is serious, but I'm agnostic and socially-agnostic. I'm more pleased that Donna wanted to attend the service, that it was something she wanted to do and felt like doing and that I could be with her. [(The phrase "Evil one" is a little goody-goody), but we are little too modern as a society, for one thing a President happened to resign, and a vice-president may have also resigned to put it apatheticly; we are a little cautious about whether an enemy of Christ stole the soul of Elvis Presley while he was just out there trying to enjoy the sun.) Are they changing the prayer to keep the modern Baptitst church happy? It's probably damn hard to impeach a Mormon, isn't it.] No, I don't believe the Protestant church should accept a "personification of Evil", call him Dracula, so some true believer doesn't have a nervous breakdown at the use of a biblical name. In regard to the Pope, there may have been a little compromise on the theory of the believe in Sin. But, I believe in beauty, and above all, seeing it. I did introduce myself to the Minister, and he asked my first name. I don't know why but we got into a discussion about my having grown up near Gordon-Conwell, actually when it was a Carmelite, it was the adjacent property. Gordon Conwell Seminary was a Carmelite when I was in nursery school and elementary school. And then I said to him, "Well, no. I came hear to listen to you. I'm here to see you-you went to Harvard didn't you. That's what I am to think from the way you write."

Boston- Copley Square, May-Dinner at B.U West three nights this week

Boston

I wanted to make love tonight before writing and now its after midnight, but qucikly.

We have had dinner three nights in a row this week at B.U. West, and my idea was to walk through the common, visit the swans, walk through Copley Square and then have dinner, but we had dinner first.
As strange as it would seem, we usually watch the news near B.U. when there. This afternoon, she overrode my idea and we went to dinner first. We watched CNN, which is how we spent Patriot's Day. Copley Square happenned to again be on CNN this time, so I kept the original idea. When we got there the same to anchorwomen we were watching on television were still there. Usually we visit Marsh Chapel, but this time we went to Trinity and Donna took a raincheck on a tour of the church
 (I don't really see Trinity as a museum, and I only casually mention I was in the basement a long time ago with Steven Tyler, the lead vocalist, I think the same year that I talked to  Livingston Taylor at the Garden Street Church--but I said that we could tour the church and go in and she could pray....I'm not rambling, Daltrey "waved back" to me right in front of Boston Public Library near the subway years later...but its late and she and I  been together all night.)
So Donna got to see two television journalists, which was part of her major in college and we spent the afternoon that would have been with the Swans and the swanboats walking past the statue of  John Singleton Copley. I can't find a picture of Trinity this late at night, so I quickly add a map.
The poetry of it I tried to explain was that it was about innocent people and other people that were unharmed left pictures of Jesus, so I said that in part was the theory of Jesus and arriving at a good thought or feeling, or a thought of goodness. I also tried to explain that prayer was ok because we were near there that afternoon without telling her that we we near both B.U and M.I.T and it would better to write a prose description of the latter, that she didn't see the helicopters at midnight going toward the University and that I wouldn't tell her with my voice that "a barrage of sirens" could be heard going towards M.I.T,( that she didn't really hear, although I know I did) if  I could put it into short story.

I'm tired from making love and its late.

The above link is to the below volume on the Colonial, untill I find other books...for now:

Boston:A dome of many-coloured glass- we walked by her house today.

A dome of many-coloured glass

Please use the above link for a (free) electronic copy of this volume of poetry.
Living on the North Shore, near Rockport, between Salem and Rockport, rather, I had a copy of this book, the same first edition, I believe, when I was in High School during 1978-79. Most of my volumes of poetry were Riverside Press Editions published by Houghton Mifflin after 1885 and before 1900. But I do very fondly remember reading Amy Lowell when I was sixteen, seventeen.
Today we walked by her house.  Last year Donna and I infrequently visited Mount Auburn Cemetery and included walking tours of Brattle Street. So to begin Spring we took the parallel to Brattle and found the Oliver-Gerry-Lowell House, built in 1767. Not to be coy or pretentious but I've always known it was the home of the poetess, but it is real deceiving to walk down Brattle and try to see it. This afternoon we went to the front entrance of Elmwood, but its gate was closed. We admired the house and read the plaque and agreed that it could in fact be a private residence. We wondered who would live in it and if they would have to be a famous author, Donna then offering to keep it mind that when we could later afford it that I would like it. There was a chauffeur parked outside in a minature limosene, and  I politely tried to find out who lived in the house and the driver only provided the information that the Longfellow House was open to the public, and I acknowledged my knowing that and thanked him.

When I returned to our apartment I did a little looking and found out who presently does reside in the building.
Donna has a small purple violet in her purse that I picked from their outside gate (just over the lotline? I hope) that is like one of the purple violets that I had in my backyard on the North Shore. I told her that honestly, they didn't seem that hard to replace; they're pretty, but not expensive.

Scott Lord

Patriot's Day Weekend, Boston

It is with sincere appreciation that I thank the woman that I had dinner with, hold hands with, and live with, for everything this weekend, especially for trusting my judgement, if only that. For making love and for allowing me to say in bed, "Thank you for trusting me." For having dinner with me and for allowing me to say, "Thank you for acting accordingly.", whether or not that was the exact right thing to say, and for its sentiment. Thank you for your company, Donna. ---------------------- added later today: We only just returned from having dinner. As a prayer from Donna, add to that we had our date tonight at Boston University West and skipped going to Marsh Chapel after, where she often enters the church alone, while I wait outside. We were in fact waiting to eat there yesterday at precisely when the news broke- I got her to Harvard University as quickly as I could, where we had dinner there (Harvard Square) (which is what I meant by her allowing me to bring her). It wasn't untill dinner tonight that we learned that Boston University was involved.

Gift From the Sea- a present for Donna on the way to Marsh Chapel

The radio station in Cambridge Boston keeps playing I Don't Know How to Love Him, by Helen Reddy, which is fine initself and foritself. Donna and I were at Macy's again and because most of the old book stores have left Cambridge I went to West Street and picked up a copy of Ingmar Bergman Directs, by John Simon and a replacement copy of Images by Bergman. I needed to look for books and appreciated Donna having gone with me, so while she was busy for an hour near Boston University, quickly scooped a copy of Gift From the Sea in Allston. I would have gotten it for her in Boston had I seen itWe went for breakfast and when she got home she pointed out that she had had seven pieces of French Toast, more than she had ordered, which was endearing. She visits Marsh Chapel to quietly pray alone. The stained glass is pretty with the backlight. (She just walks in and spends a couple minutes in the church in prayer and then leaves). With the nicer weather, we coupled it yesterday afternoon by going to the Square and through the Common. Apparently she was noticing thins that were always there that you don't really pay attention to and we found the "Washington Elm", an oak tree that was there in the 1600's that had been a marker for Washington's revolutionary was command and the colonial elections- but there is also a plaque on Ann Hutchinson that I had missed that seems to say that she just missed being seen as a witch, interestingly. So Gift from the Sea began our Spring, a little late after Easter due to the weather. She watched Mrs. Dalloway (Vannessa Redgrave) in bed while I typed. The film is good, in between belletristic or literate and artificially opulent and pretentious to where it is ostentatious. It happens to involve relationships and character study. The ideas are supposed to be those that challenge a generation, but the whirlpool they find themselves in is youth and affectation. The writing I like- the acting I'm hesitant, the Prime Minister showing up at a party is a little heavy given their form of social climbing, but a good script. I skimmed Gift from the Sea and came up with the analogy that seashells are (can be) inexplicably symbolic for Gravestones.

Donna and I attended the Easter service at Park Street Church, Tremont Street Boston

The Easter hope

I only have time to skim the above volume, but it seems on the same order of the service we attended at the Park Street Church this evening for Easter. I believe it was a reading of Matthew 28 (29, last chapter in Matthew). Nor do I have notes on the sermon, which had the theme of "Christ has risen".  The minister is always interesting and erudite, so one way that it helped is that it was like a classroom (or "study"). Donna enjoys singing  
Hymns.

Picture Play Magazine 1932-

Picture Play Magazine (1932)

I recently bought two copies of Picture Play Magazine, both from 1932 in an old bookstore in Boston that were packaged together in a bag of seven. I couldn't see what magazines they were except for the one on the top, but for the adventure, they were only three dollars at the time. So for the adventure, please accept the entire year of Picture Play Magazine for 1932 at the above link, the two issues I have and the remainder of the years other ten issues, and the film reviews of Norbert Lusk.

I now own a copy of this issue. Again, please skim through the entire year after scrolling back up to the above link.


Scott LordScott Lord

Donna and I Shopping at Packard's Corner- Picture Play Magazine

I brought home two issues of Picture Play Magazine from 1932 and one from 1938 after dinner tonight. The one above has a still photo from the film Mata Hari.

In the "bookstore" I was in where I bought her a Nancy Drew from 1965 yesterday, there are plastic bags of  paperbacks, usually four or five. We had seen Ellie Weisell at B.U. during one of the three lectures he gave last year, so I spotted his novel in one of the packages, it being sold with a copy of Turgenev and or All Quietly Flows, and right below it was a large plastic  package with a copy of Picture Play 1938 with Carol Lombard on the cover and there being no way of knowing what the other  magazines really were.

During dinner in Packard's Corner I opened it to find there were about seven magazines:

Silver Screen December 1933 (Hepburn Cover)

Picture Play May 1938 (Lombard Cover)

Picture Play January 1932

Picture Play March 1932

Screen Life September 1940

Screenland April 1937

two other magazines were so miscellaneous that I gave Donna the Woman's Day from 1965.

So because it was a "grab bag" (potluck?) , I got the entire introductory collection for under five dollars, but the worthwhile thing is that Donna said something that was memorable {or that you should write down a couple things that you're lover says for later} when she asked if I had ever have an old or real  magazine before. I told her that I've only been studying magazines since we've been living together, sometimes there is a week where I glance through them everynight on the computer while listening to old time radio mysteries with the headphone, the Museum of Modern Art and Library of Congress both having put online collections of magazines from 1914 to 1937- The entire original Strand Magazine (publisher of Arthur Conan Doyle) can be read online.

In the actual magazines that were arbitrarily put together in the bag I got today there was included a published Clarence Sinclair Bull portrait of Greta Garbo.

Donna You're not listening to me- Happy Birthday with an I Love You.

Darling, You're really not listening to me. Scott post script blog entry: If you don't know Boston, I brought Donna to dinner last night. I noticed that they serve steak tips but I always get a steak and cheese. Donna had tomato soup. I had to wait an hour in Allston-Brighton and there weren't that many stores there, but I found a bookstore and hadn't given her a card yet. I saw a copy of the Grease soundtrack and knew that could take its place. And then I scavenged for a copy of a Gosett and Dutton Nancy Drew mystery printed in 1965-66. They also had a copy of Twilight, girl meets vampire, and since we saw Breaking Dawn part two together, I put it in with the other things. All within an hour at Packard's Corner. I had the idea to walk to Coolidge Corner without having any idea where is. You can live near Government Center or Copley Square or Harvard Square for years and never try to find Coolidge Corner- but it began to rain. Earlier in the week she paid my phone-computer bill so that I wouldn't have to go to the bank, which we she and I did yesterday; so in that she runs the house, she brought me for Cheeseburgers Sunday and Monday, so we're dating steadily while living together. Donna, I'm going out to get you a belated birthday card; you're really haven't been listening to me. by the way, thank you for saying "Goodnight" although it should have been earlier in some way.

Roses and a present from Boston, Happy Birthday this month, Donna

I brought Donna to breakfast in a small coffee shop for omlettes this morning. Yesterday I combined the romantic with the specific, or practical, by bringing her home a cup from a church. The church is one of, if not the, oldest in the United States, built before The Old North Church, in Boston, and like the Old North is open to the public during the week as a historical church when services are not being held. If I'm not mistaken it was one that Oliver Wendell Holmes much later attended. She said, " I call them kaliedescope roses". This time, rather than one red rose, I gave her a dozen of two-color white-red roses. There were English roses with two shades of green, but I thought to keep the red.

Love on the Thirteenth, Thirteen and A Kino for Valentine's Day

Donna was taking a shower while I was watching a Universal Sherlock Holmes, so I downloaded-uploaded two mysteries made by Monogram during the thrities. What was spectacular was that I had an errand to run an thought that she was possibly headed for a nap, so decided that if we were planning to go out to dinner, which we postponed unitll tonight, then I would quitely make love during the afternoon. While waiting for the Valentine's day party I noticed that while we were making love, there was a mass downstairs for Ash Wednesday- I was just something that occurred to me that our time together was approximately in the afternoon and then we had to dress for dinner. It wasn't significant that we made love during Mass, because we only later realized that we were on top of it, but I just thought it was something curious.
There was a box of Valentine's day candy from a movie that she had asked to go to( I had wanted to see Anna Karenina while she had wanted to so Breaking Dawn- so we saw both) and some flowers in that the last rose I brought her was still in the vase, so we just added a couple new ones. And there was a new stuffed animal to go with the one she got last year.
 After dinner tonight she bought a DVD, and then went to a second store and she gave me a Kino silent film as part of our Valentine's Day cards. I was in fact The Haunted Castle directed by F. W. Murnau and I mentioned that I write about Sjostrom and Christensen on the internet, so the film of course was mentioned on my page (Sjostrom, Christensen, Murnau are, Lubitsch I rarely mention).
She went shopping for a blouse that I really haven't seen on her yet.

The hawk returned to his perch nearby after the blizzard, so that can be worked into a poem.

Early Morning in Gloucester Harbor

Shadowland

I'm listening to the CBS Radio Mystery Theater while I type, often I listen to The Inner Sanctum, or shows like it like The Sealed Book, The Hermits Cave or The Weird Circle, Tonight its The Clairvoyant, originally broadcast in 1976. They happenned to have just quoted Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, also a Cambridge Resident.

I found a magazine entitled Shadowland which was an art magazine from the 1920's that was on the periphery of Silent Film. It happenned to have a painting reproduced entitled Early Morning Gloucester Harbor. Please try the above link, the magazine is from about when Hammond Castle was built.

I brought Donna home a rose and brought her to dinner Friday before shopping at Macy's. She offerred to go to the bookstore with me because I remembered they had a copy of one film unavailable anywhere else. When we got there someone had already purchased it. The important thing was that she had been housebound for a week and when we finally went out she offered to go to the bookstore, even though my film was no longer there. A signed copy of a biography was there with a letter from the author to the previous owner, but it was near closing time, so I left after not finding the film. She was looking at a an expensive blouse and I found her an almost duplicate one for half of what the other cost, same designer but one had buttons, one was on sale.

Scott Lord: Sherlock Holmes- The Woman In Green (Roy William Neal)

I've regained the ability to download. I was listening to a radio program entitled The Murder Clinic from the mid-1940's that featured a story from one of my favories detectives, H.M., Sir Henry Merrivale from the novels of John Dickson Carr while this was going into the computer.

I happen to carry a 1938 Basil Rathbone Players cigarette card in my wallet.

Donna again prayed in an empty Marsh Chapel

I told her today, "That's the type of poet you are." We happenned to be on our way to dinner and on Comm Ave there was a street corner memorial to a deceased student-young person and she asked if she could stop and read the page that was there. I mentioned that she was that type of writer and she was more than welcome to read it. Apparently someone had had a fatal accident and was remembered by their peers. We were walking and she stopped into Marsh Chapel to pray, which she always does if we are out whenever there is an open church. I really wasn't thinking of a poem this time, or a theme and later i told her that although we saw Ellie Wiesel speak at the University, of which I'm still very appreciative, there didn't seem to be that many lectures open to the public considering the size of the University and how near to Boston it really is- shouldn't there really be one a week in that its one of the only places where it can take place. (There are lectures in aesthetics open to the public, but I don't think it would harm George Santanyana to have a couple more. And in regard to film- its only a movie projector) She asked why I hadn't been blogging recently. I took her to dinner the other night near the Longefellow House- and we made love untill late- and I broke my recorded on the bench press again, which is now 250lbs (I still weigh 132 at 50 years old, still a size 32 dungaree), and brushed up on some of the other weightlifting- so I should have been blogging, but I've been immersed in Danish Silent Film and have been reading in order to revise writing- so I was expanding my webpages. But then again last night was astonishing. During the middle of the night she all of a sudden asked if I needed a blanket and covered me with a soft spoken tone. Something that small-that significant; my thought were just, "You were just nice to me." and then I tried to avoid the cliches, "That was worth alot" and "That meant alot." But after all this living together, dating while living together, seeing each other while living together, she just that one time was nice to me. Then and there, no else but her. She very simply put a blanket one me during the middle of the night. That's all, which brings all of my sincerity as a poet in to play, all the self honesty there is to poetry into play. I've been waiting to blog that she gave me gloves and socks for Christmas, actually I write on film history on the internet and she added a new video player to the bedroom during the middle of her shuttling back and forth from Macy's shopping for fashion, and there it was- someone covering me with a blanket at that hour.