A Fine Squidoodle-Dee--Doo... and Emily Bronte, Too

Do all things come to an end -- or at least transformed beyond the point of loved recognition? 2014 has seen the end of Squidoo and the transfer of featured content to Hubpages. I never wanted to see that day.

I opted to let a majority of my pages make the transfer... not all. Prior to that point, I had never deleted a lens. (Not for practical reasons in many cases, and not because of the hours of work that I invested, but because those pages get personified.) But in that short time frame we were granted, I saved, took screen shots, and hit delete on many, bawling away. All of them are to be resurrected someday, many are to find their home on Wizzley -- when I find the time.

It was an exhausting couple days. One poetry page that was supposed to make the move got deleted -- after I saved it, yes, but before I got its little mug shot. When I tried to do the screenshot, I got the 'green monster surprise' pictured here. As my mother would have said, "Well, that's a fine Squidoodle-dee-do."

The poetry lenses that made the move have their own tribulations. There is a policy on Hubpages that one can have a maximum of two links to any site that's not whitelisted. Flickr is okay, but Audioboo -- whoops, now the site is Audioboom -- isn't. Most of the poetry pages that transferred had more than two links to hosted audio content and thus transferred with warnings.

YouTube is largely unfamiliar terrain. The short fix is to centralize the audio elsewhere. Evening Nigh's 'sister blog' Audio Reflections is planning to do most of the hosting. Here, though, is the audio for Emily Bronte poems:

The Visionary

Spellbound

The Night Wind

The Lady to her Guitar

I plan to do a lot more writing here. Self-consciousness and guilt about being away so long can make it hard to return.

Reflection: Always a Rose

A bit more audio today! I like the surprising little twist at the end of this poem -- "Always a Rose" quite a round-about little expression of love. I had recorded it on Audioboo, and when I visited it today, I saw it was wearing a little 'tweet badge', tweeted, it appears, by the Audioboo company.

I'm still doing a weekly poetry read for a friend's BlogTalkRadio, but I've been doing it live, so it's extra discipline to record... but I'm getting into the rhythm of writing 50 paid articles, and still doing the other projects. I've done a lot of recording very recently.

Reflection: Soundbite

I have been doing poetry (and occasional prose) pieces on this BlogTalk radio show for a while... live since January. I will include a piece here. I have been listening to shows tonight and cringing a bit. There was one show where there was no co-host and I talked quite a bit... except that I giggled more than I talked. Sentence. Giggle. Sentence. Giggle. That was hard to listen to. "Shut up, Karen, and read!" I was thinking.

I went back in the archives a while for this:

Listen to internet radio with Alex Crabtree on Blog Talk Radio

Memory: It Was Then That the Fox Appeared

I tend not to link to the more social communities I belong to -- a few people who read this may have a sense of the reasons why. Today, though, I am going to embed a little audio clip.

This is from a group that is not Squidoo-affiliated, but has a core membership of Squidoo people. There is a writing network, and a weekly BlogTalkRadio show that generally has a guest. I do audio clips for the weekly show: One week, it was one of my short memoir pieces; one week it was flash fiction by our guest, but most often it is a public domain piece.

I looked in on the platform that the crew uses to send messages, and saw that this week would be a recap -- no guest -- and that my audio clip from The Little Prince would be replayed. "Sentimental," the message note, and I smiled.

I wasn't very pleased with that clip, as I don't really have character voices. After several attempts at the fox's voice in which I succeeded only in losing the emotion, I let the voice go. I didn't listen to the show the week it first aired. This time I did. Since it was liked enough to get a replay, I guess I shan't cringe.

Ah, but that is not why I am a bit nervous about sharing this on this bloggy woggy.

Listen to internet radio with Alex Crabtree on Blog Talk Radio

Reflection: Online, On the Air... Of the Air

I've had Audio Reflections up for nearly a month now, and just today I formally announce it/ link to it. Hmmm. Ah, and some things I still hold onto yet. A writing group I belong to -- kind of an offshoot of Squidoo as its Squid-founded -- is beginning a weekly 'radio' show on BlogTalkRadio and I am doing some reading/ voice stuff... like some poetry intros.

I linked to a recording of this nifty little poem, "To Any Reader" (aka "Child of Air") some time back, but here's the version I recorded with intro:




Tardiness... I also put up one of last months'blog posts today... ah, I mean 'twas saved some weeks, but not published. This one also contains a poem, a rather evocative one.

Reflection: The Sweep of the Harbor Tide

I did put up that other site: Evening Nigh Reflections has sister, Audio Reflections, who is doing mostly public domain poetry, and is of a more pragmatic mindset than this one.

I've learned a lot from 'Squid-people' about putting things up on the internet that support one's pragmatic existence: one's teaching, writing life... The new site is doing the 'Professional Squid' Challenge: a post a day for 30 days. (I know: Professional Squids?)

But I am not so pragmatic with my attachments -- online as elsewhere. I love this blog! (And as I say that, it wags... well, not its tail, but its header, perhaps.)

Memory: From the Days of Steve Salamander

As we near another July 4, here is a ghost of a July 4th past: "Your Hometown" -- an excerpt from "Til Steve Salamander Returns" The story was composed my first summer in Seattle and published last summer. More than a little bit of my heart is in the story... and the place and the characters therein.

P.S. Working in HTML mode on this one because of the embedding code. Having quite a time getting that photo sized right -- so no photo for now.

Reflection: Flower Phone

A poem by Robert Frost ironically (for me) titled "The Phone". Ah, but here the phone is not a phone but a flower who seems to convey tidings from a loved one.

I recorded this a while ago, and there it sat in my drafts. I don't think I've posted it yet on my public domain poetry site, where I've been posting pretty much a public domain poem a day -- no, not a pace I'm going to keep up forever, but good for getting the site off the ground. It's doing the "Professional Squid" blogging challenge... 30 posts in 30 days.

(I know...Professional Squids!?)

Reflection: Those Who Hide Too Well Away

Another thought in the form of a poem:


We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout
But oh the agitated hear
Til someone really find us out...

Audio Reflection: Keepsake Mill

My folks couldn't have envisioned this when they took that picture years ago: By gummit, that old photo is talking! Actually, it's reciting "Keepsake Mill" -- a poem that (though you wouldn't guess from its somber tones) actually comes from a volume of classic children's poems; it's one of a couple poems where the author, Robert Louis Stevenson, steps out of his 'child's garden' and speaks from across a span of a great many years.

It's a pragmatic thing in a way, finding more ways to put up audio online. I can put up another site/ domain with my InMotion hosting, and I hope to have Audio Reflections up within a few weeks. The site can give some support to other things I have on the web, so it's a practical move as well as a pet project. You know I'll maintain it! (I can get too exhausted to write, but I seldom get too exhausted to read aloud.)

This particular poem is also for people in my life, and those I miss. Speaking of which... The phone just rang, and I didn't answer it. Oh, bad me! Of course I'm not avoiding anyone -- just news of them. (How very... me.) Got to ease myself back into gear: Breathe in, breathe out, center...

But here's a poem, a slightly abridged version as I needed to get the piece down to sixty seconds (without going at too ridiculous a pace).

In Between: Whoops, Talking Blog!

Is it just me, or has my blog been reciting "The Mill Wheel in Motion" to anyone who visits it today? That audio widget has been there for months -- dunno why it went on auto play today! (I took the player off the sidebar, but left it on the the Oct. 28 blog entry where I first posted it.)

Reflection: Aunt Karen Reads "A Visit From St Nicholas"

It's Christmas Eve, and here I am still. If I don't don't manage that Greyhound trip before post-holiday responsibilities, there is a semester break in another month. Now here is my read of "Twas the Night Before Christmas".

If you know me, stay tuned. There will be more Christmas gifts online. Other things will have to wait.

PS: That picture is from quite an old Christmas card!

Reflection: The Velveteen Rabbit... and Internet Magic

The notion of someone in Saudia Arabia listening to my recording of The Velveteen Rabbit via its Drop.io link -- well, that's pretty fnny, but pretty cool, too, I think. Someone from eduFire has been posting links to Hannukah and Christmas songs on the "Fireside chat" forum for a while now; I believe someone else posted some children's holiday activity sheets the other day. Yesterday, I posted my read of The Velveteen Rabbit. Another tutor commented, on the forum thread, that it was actually the first he'd heard of "this Velveteen Rabbit". According to his profile, he lives in Saudia Arabia.

The Velveteen Rabbit was the first thing I recorded with my USB headset. The link to the Drop.io file has been on the sidebar for some time. I put up a link to my Velveteen Rabbit Multimedia Squidoo page recently. Some of the projects that seem whimsical are actually rather pragmatic. I'll post more soon.

(Credit: Photo derived from this Flickr pic)

In-Between: The Mill Creek in Motion

I'm recording Robert Louis Stevenson poems; several I recognize from my first and second grade anthologies so long ago! I can recall the moment when I read "The Swing" -- at six, feeling already so much less a child than the little narrator who declared that going up in a swing was "the pleasantest thing ever a child can do." Ah, but this is a more serious, nostalgic poem from that same collection:




See more Audio at TeacherTube.com.

Reflection: The Road Not Taken

The title of this post links to a reading of Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken", as does a new audio link there on the side. For me, this piece was a quieter read than "Going For Water".

I may put up a link to Audacity, which is an excellent open source audio recording and editing program, and to Drop.io, which I have been using to host audio files.

When I click the Drop.io link in my Google notebook, it takes me straight to the upload page; on that page, I also see some message about new applications or upgraded (paid) accounts. A couple times lately -- I kid you not -- the message has said, "Your drop is lonely. Call it on the phone." Well, I don't think my drops are lonely: I check in on them, I listen to them. I honestly don't recommend you call my drops either. As I explained in a previous post, the drops don't answer their email! They may not pick up the phone either! But they do like to be listened to. I know people who are like those drops. It's truly an art, the art of listening.

Reflection: To Seek the Brook if it Still Ran

My multiple web personas are collaborating on recording public domain audio: right now, they're doing the poetry of Robert Frost. This post links to a particular favorite: Going For Water. I don't think you'll be able to tell, listening to it, that I'm actually a bit sick. I had pretty good control over my voice at the point I recorded (though it took a few reads); an hour or two later, after medication had dried out my voice, I was sounding more ribbit-like. I'll continue to add audio to the link lists there on the right. I actually put this clip on the link list last night. At one point, when I did a test-listen, I got a Drop.io" Who's Online (2)" message, meaning there were two people tuned into the drop --and only one of them was myself! (By that, I mean, I'd had the drop open in only one window.) Apparently, someone else was listening to the wee drop at the same moment, be it a friend, or someone who merely stumbled in by way of the "next blog' button.

Memory: Standing at the Corner of 15th & Someplace I Did Not Intend to Be

This short audio link is also from "Til Steve Salamander Returns" -- a much lighter segment.

There really is a corner of "Bellevue, Bellevue, and Bellevue East" -- not in Bellevue, but in Seattle. I have a photo of the street sign, and plan on scanning it and adding it to this post, hopefully in the next day.

PS No, it's a different picture I added... theme-related, though.

Reflection: Your Hometown

The audio link, Your Hometown , is a segment of "Til Steve Salamander Returns", a piece that I wrote during my first trial summer in Seattle. This is one of a couple serious segments in a largely humorous piece. At least, it's one of a couple segments that were originally envisioned as serious. The events of the subsequent years, including the death of the kitty cat who appears in the opening scene, change the character of a piece, at least for a small group of people. I'll record a few more segments of the Steve Salamander piece soon, but it may be a while before I do them all and join the whole thing together...

A week into the experiment, the audio is getting better. The copy of "Artichokes and Desert" rain that appears in the link list is not the one I originally recorded. The second version does include one particularly audacious (Well, I did record it in Audacity!) mistake. I said that Chris danced around a lightning pole. That took me aback a bit -- but I didn't want to re-do it then, as I'd been having technical difficulties, and had already made several false starts. If I hadn't reacted, who would have caught the mistake? In the first version... well, I had to listen to it a couple times myself before I was, like, "Whoa, did I say 180 degrees?" (It was 108 degrees in Tucson, or thereabouts -- it wasn't 180.)

Reflection: Further Chronicles (and Audio)

Maintain a poker-facer and an expressive voice... That seems to be the trick of recording audio with a less-than-professional quality headset. If I so much as raise an eyebrow while I'm recording, or spread my cheek into a smile, the headset will bounce a bit and the sound will be recorded...
I picked a copy of Further Chronicles of Avonlea off the bookcase downstairs for two reason: 1) I knew it was public domain. 2) I was locked out and needed something to read! The piece that I ended up recording, and linking to here, is by far my favorite of the stories. Even so, there were lines that were hard to record because they didn't ring true for me. There's a character in the story who, years back, had broken off an engagement because she believed her fiancee's mother when she said her fiancee was merely infatuated with her youth and beauty -- which wouldn't last -- and that she had nothing, but nothing, else to offer.
Back in high school, I had a friend from India whose parents were incensed that she wanted to date an American; I think that they actually made a brief threat to disown her. But my friends spent six years convincing those parents that their relationship was sound, and at the end of that time, they were allowed to marry. As for why my friends wouldn't go against the parents' wishes -- well, part of it was because they were Ba'hai, and, while the Ba'hai faith prohibits arranged marriage, it does require parental consent. My friends were bound by what they believed. I honestly think either one of them would have -- like the girl in the story -- broken off their engagement if they believed they would be a lifelong burden to the other; yet I can't imagine either of them believing it. Going back to the story, it's hard for me to imagine a girl who says you're right, I have nothing in this world to offer, but for a fleeting beauty -- a girl who lacks the drive to fight that she's somebody. But there's a lot in this story I do like: It may be an archaic societal criticism, but it's societal criticism, nonetheless. Now, without further ado, here's The Little Brown Book of Miss Emily.

Memory: Of Artichokes and Desert Rain

Of Artichokes And Desert Rain by Karen Weil
Download now or listen on posterous

Of Artichokes and Desert Rain.mp3 (4096 KB)

So now I have this computer-ito -- and it has this headset-isimo that is almost as big as it is. We plan on doing online tutoring, and also recording some copyright-expired 'kiddie lit' for Librivox. But first here’s audio for a flash memoir that a few people will remember from long-ago co-op days. This was my Audacity test recording and also my headset test recording... I expected to have to erase the recording and try again. But…Well, I was juggling the Audacity program and the Microsoft Works document on the computer screen(ito)… I lost my place a couple times, said “purch forniture”, developed a brief frog in my throat… And then I played it back, and it sounded quite a bit better than I expected. I decided to let that first-ever bit of recording stand, as-is. Sometime soon, I’ll learn how to operate the editing controls -- but here’s “Of Artichokes and Desert Rain”.

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