Neil Peart on the Good Feeling

“Now still I love playing Tom Sawyer because it’s still hard. It’s still a good feeling when I do it right.”

Neil Peart


This documentary was too goddam good not to fucking cuss about it. Shit. Some more little fuckin’ nuggets:

After massive success, Geddy Lee talks about why they kept experimenting:

“We had to find the better rush” ~ Geddy Lee

And again:

“We realized after time that there was a core of our fanbase that was as curious about where we were going as we were. And those are the ones that sustained us, you know, through all these years.” ~ Geddy Lee

When Neil Peart felt dissatisfied with his drum skills he sought out a teacher in Freddie Gruber, learning about the movements between hits:

“The approach to what you do results in what you get, you understand? {kung fu hand waggle}” ~ Freddie Gruber

Julianne Moore on Little Flames

“Acting is like this little flame. If someone comes along and says, ‘this is what I think!’ they might just blow it out and then you can’t reach it anymore.”

Julianne Moore


Reminds me of what it’s like to have any idea, creative or commercial or a mix of the two.

The Reeve Will Watch the Manor

“Originally in Anglo-Saxon England the reeve was a senior official with local responsibilities under the Crown e.g. as the chief magistrate of a town or district. Subsequently, after the Norman conquest, it was an office held by a man of lower rank, appointed as manager of a manor and overseer of the peasants. In this later role, historian H. R. Loyn observes, “he is the earliest English specialist in estate management.”

[…] Each unit had a court, and an officer to implement decisions of that court: the reeve. Thus different types of reeves were attested, including high-reeve, town-reeve, port-reeve, shire-reeve (predecessor to the sheriff), reeve of the hundred, and the reeve of a manor.”

Wikipedia


My last name is Reeves, so I found this lil’ wiki article a hoot. I have always had a knack for estate management.

What Samuel Beckett Wants

In 1932 a friend (Walter Lowenfels) asked Beckett, “You sit there saying nothing while the world is going to pieces. What do you want? What do you want to do?” Beckett, according to Bair, “crossed his legs and drawled: ‘Walter, all I want to do is sit on my ass and fart and think of Dante.’”