Thursday, September 30, 2010

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

The "Divine Within" is the great adventure. #Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Believe it and expect it and your subconscious mind will bring it to pass. What "it" is-THAT is your choice.#Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

When Truth supports Passion you can proceed without fear. #Wayne2Wayne

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Music & Metaphysics - Ph.D. Dissertation USC Synopsis

Music and metaphysics
by Wayne McEvilly.

Published 1963

About the Book

An essay on the experience of music as transcendence. The power of music to unite the yearning of the human heart and mind with the beloved Being from whom the incarnate entity, the immortal soul within the mortal body, feels separated. The primacy of sound vibration as organized by master metaphysically oriented composers brings us face to face with the Being that is reality, and that is our selves.


Wayne2Wayne - Memos to Myself

Beauty is the key - #Wayne2Wayne

Monday, September 27, 2010

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Placing credence in anything other than the "Divine Within" lands you in the lap of superstition - #Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

I remind myself daily - Everyone you encounter bears about with them a heavy burden - #Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Set up your own Space Program - Explore Inner Space - Do it now - #Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

The great yonder of infinity lies within you.#Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Beauty is not a luxury - It is a necessity for a human life. #Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Once you've stated "Here I stand!" don't move, don't falter-don't even flinch. #Wayne2Wayne

Saturday, September 25, 2010

From My Notes For A Metaphysical Study of Anais Nin

Anais Nin Letter June 3, 1972


Henry James said of the writer's condition-"It is absolute solitude. Don't go looking for it. If it seeks you..."
Here is a most extraordinary document from Anais - I have kept these letters in trust to her wishes that I publish none of them until 30 years after her death - I will write about this one extensively in a later post - The subject is one on which Anais Nin & Marguerite Young did not share a like mind.
Two of the characters in my novel "The Chinese In Montana" - Ah Toy & The Princess Tata - embody these two opposing points of view - But enough of that - Here is the letter -

My Writing Enters Anais Nin's Book

Friday, September 24, 2010

Marguerite Young - from Miss MacIntosh, My Darling

She had cried outside many gates of stillness where only her own voice had cried back to her, bouncing like the echo, little doubt, or like a ball, and sometimes she had heard that echo of which there had been no voice as there had been no shadow of her, and she had knocked at many doors which had not opened to her knocking, and some said that she was only the shadow and thus did not recognize herself, for the shadow knew not the substance although the substance knew the shadow, and some said that there had never been a lady but this lady who was lost and wandering through mountain storms where wandered also the sails of yachts white as that snow through which they wandered from pole to pole -- but how much more successful she had been in her failure than if only one door had opened to her knock. She had not been committed to one destiny. Who heard the knock of her dead heart? Success would have limited her as if with a golden compass had been drawn an arc omitting all but her path between two stars, but failure left many questions unanswered, or so it seemed to the old lawyer in that still house where he had been of two opinions, of two minds as to the door -- (MMMD, 652)


America's Great Writer


Here she is. Marguerite Young. To read her "Miss MacIntosh, My Darling" is to know you are in the presence of a literary voice that will resound over all recorded time.

"The Imperial Hotel No Longer Exists" - Anais Nin


Anais wrote to me on beautiful paper from all over the world - Here is part of the 7th page from a letter which began "The Imperial Hotel No Longer Exists" - I inscribed the phrase on the wall of my writing room on the third floor of my Victorian mansion in Bozeman, Montana where "The Chinese In Montana" came to be born. Marguerite Young slept in this room (the George Washington of American literature slept here!) and was enchanted by the spirits hosted there-She was always being visited by Henry James or Martha Washington or Gertrude Stein or the last of the carrier pigeon breed. "We are all orphans here" she would say in a most whimsical fashion.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Anais Nin translates my Chinese In Montana

The Tale Behind The Tale Of The Chinese In Montana

It is a long and circuitous tale, the tale of the tale behind the tale of The Chinese In Montana - Taking a winding, circuitous, one might venture saying even a devious and crooked course, oblivious to time, careless of space, the telling of it intrigues me even still, and more so than when the plot first hatched in the snow country of Montana. I shall tell it over time, and it shall remain timeless.
Gentle reader!
My dear, darling Transparency.
There is much to follow.

Vignettes From The Chinese In Montana

Vignettes From The Chinese In Montana

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Purple Postcards from Anais Nin

Anais & I spoke of these purple postcards as "snowflakes" in the blizzard of our correspondence

Letter From Rupert Pole - My Music in Anais's "Music Room"

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Open your eyes to the heavy burden of others, and count your own blessings, one by one.#Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Love does not live where there is condemnation -#Wayne2Wayne /

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Anais Nin Discovers My Notebooks

1965 - Marguerite Young sent Anais Nin 100 pages from my Notebooks - I received a letter from Anais in which she spoke of my "destiny as a writer" - That letter was the beginning of a long correspondence during the course of which Anais wrote to me: "Now our friendship is eternal." She confided in me.
I will share with you some of her letters in this blog.

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

You know that you are just fine just as you are. Don't let anyone tell you different. #Wayne2Wayne

How I Became A Writer

I was a boyscout. The troop needed a scribe. The post came with a notebook and ballpoint pen. Outside the troop activities, I filled the notebook with observations of every sort of phenomenon and figure-nothing was excluded, and I wrote about each and every thing without distinction of what might be considered importance. Everything became luminous once it entered the notebook. The license plates of passing cars, the appearance of the first star, the fireflies above the summer lawn.
I have been scribbling ever since.
So far very little has been shaped or formed into anything but the notes themselves are for me sufficient unto themselves.
That's how I became a writer-there is nothing to it but writing and more writing.
Thinking does not really figure in.
It's just writing.

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

The evidence is overwhelming. Love is the one true reality. #Wayne2Wayne

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

Worry is ever and always counter-productive. #Wayne2Wayne

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

You know that you are just fine just as you are. Don't let anyone tell you different. #Wayne2Wayne

Wayne2Wayne - Memos To Myself

The fact that you think you can't do it is no excuse for not doing it. #Wayne2Wayne

Monday, September 6, 2010

How I Became A Businessman

1943
I had begun to shine my own shoes-doing a good job of it, and, what's more, enjoying it. Folks took notice. Then someone asked me if I would shine his shoes for a dime. (A dime was big money in those days-It would buy the daily newspaper, a double scoop of ice cream, and there'd be two pennies left for Fleers' Double Bubble gum.) A lightbulb went off in my mind. My Father was good with carpentry, and, at my request, constructed a small wooden box to contain supplies for the job: various sorts of polish-black, brown, clear, oxblood, both in wax and liquid form-a few brushes, and the appropriate cloths. The "handle" of the box also served as a footrest-"Just hoist your foot up there and be at rest & I'll take on your shoes one at a time."
I would set up "shop" on the sidewalk outside the Acme Grocery Store, or one of the two movie theatres then in Marcus Hook, Pa. (The Globe & The Congress) -
That was my first "business."
And that's how I became a businessman (or, in more recent parlance, an Entrepreneur.)
More anon about "The Joys Of Being In Business For Yourself"

Sunday, September 5, 2010

How I Became A Pianist

On my birthday-July 11, 1940 - I woke up to a tiny "toy" piano at the foot of my bed. It had no more than a two octave compass, but with real keys, black & white-It was quite GRAND-I was enchanted to find that when you touched a key it made the music of a single tone. Touch the next key, you were on the infinite highway of music, going, it seemed to me, into another world. My Grandmother taught me that with just 3 keys I could play the opening of Paderewski's famous Minuet (my favorite Victrola recording) I played those three keys (D-C-B) in the pattern I had heard so often (D-D-C-D-C-B-C=B-B) and heard the same tune as came out of the Victrola. It was love. At that moment, I became a pianist.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

How I Became A Musician

When I was born, everyone commented "Oh! Such big ears!" I began to listen. The first sounds I remember were the train whistles and the various chirpings, tweetings, twitterings, cawings, hootings, shriekings, and melodic singings of birds. Sound fascinated me.
When I saw someone winding up the Victrola "talking machine" & placing the needle down on the disc whirling about at 78 revolutions pr. minute I knew that heaven was about to enter the room-through my ears.
Caruso would be singing. It was more lovely and compelling even than the whistling trains and the songs of birds.
Paderewski would be playing Chopin.
I was in love.
I became a musician before I played a note.