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Hoff, Benjamin. The Singing Creek Where the Willows Grow: The Rediscovered Diary of Opal Whiteley New York: Tichnor & Fields, 1986.
I’ll be curious to know your thoughts on whether the image of Opal that haunted Hoff--the image that developed in his mind because of the magic her words worked on him and because of the past she was a part of, seen through a late-twentieth-century imagination--worked as a projection carrier for him, a femme fatale of sorts. In a more recent book, Kathrine Beck writes:
“. . . Hoff outlined a theory of impending ecological doom, revealed by changing migration patterns of animals, climate change, volcanic activity, and changes in ocean currents . . . and said it was possible that ‘we have little time left.’ . . . The version of The Singing Creek Where the Willows Grow currently in print eliminates this ecological warning, and some of the other personal material seems less emotionally fraught. . . .
“Hoff believes that the diary was an authentic product of childhood, but that Opal was schizophrenic . . .. A professor at the University of Oregon . . . had told me that Benjamin Hoff was in love with Opal, an impression I had also received from reading his book. I asked him if he had fallen in love with her. ‘I would say so,’ he replied matter-of-factly. ‘Maybe not in the usual way. Spiritually maybe. . . .’” (Pages 248-249.)
Beck, Kathrine. Opal: A Life of Enchantment, Mystery, and Madness. New York: Viking, 2003.

freshly brewed, her musings tucked
away in her snood;
gold earrings, rings on
her toes, and her husband had
a ring in his nose.

surgery. When he comes home,
the terrier barks.
He picked up a nose
at the dimestore, and now he
looks like Groucho Marx.

The doctor doesn't even
Know what he's doing
Who on Earth gave him
His so-called master's degree?
He's using a knife!

more certain you are. It’s a
happy way to be.
With uncertainty
comes a know-it-all patient
and a framed M.D.

more certain you are. It’s a
happy way to be.
With uncertainty
comes a know-it-all patient
and a framed M.D."
M, this is brilliant! LoL!

He slipped on a bun
and his suit pants came undone
as he wildly spun.

He'd thought he'd learnt that having
was just to let go.
He had never thought
what it might mean to his wife
to be the one freed.

could he lose, as Alex’s
loved and hated muse,
for though she was quick
with taunts and mirth, she could not
make him doubt his worth.

was what made a muse become
all but frank with her.
Her frankness became
to him an ambivalence
that left him wanting.

distraction by his lush hair
and peppermint breath,
She made it look like
she wanted action, then teased
him nearly to death.

So Al, what exactly is 'Hamlet acting'? Into my mind popped a couple of images, but nothing that conveyed an understanding of what you might mean.

that gives the paddies their edge —
hair is the bonus.
But it's in their eyes
that the leprechaun dances
to leave them panting.

Next time, set up the digital movie camera and upload them to Youtube, because that sounds like fun. I'd love to see you and Han do Polonius and Laertes! 'Neither a lender nor borrower be' etc.
I seem to want to apologize for how my Haiku made you feel, but I am not sure it that would be appropriate or not. LoL!


Have you seen the Kenneth Branagh movie version?

pointed, “get thee--“ (shaking, he
was looking his worst)
“you know,” he spluttered,
“to a nunnery--but let
me open one first.”

the carved door, and told Frank she
was Sister Babbitt.
Not amused, he glared
at her and swore and told her
to kick the habit.
“You’ve set yourself up
a harem,” she spat. “I’ve heard
you’re a humdinger!”
She softened, “I might
stay for a chat, if you would
make me a stinger.”

Okay, if you insist.
The opening of
'Nun no More' had brought in young,
supple girls that made
the owner beam las-
civiously. "Get thee," he
said deviously,
to each one of the
girls as h..."
Al, this is RotFL! And I thought you said you had writer's block?! LoL.
And M, what a brilliant follow-up. Still laughing.

tippling the too tall cocktails
disguised with red bras.
'Hum me a few bars!'
cried the player piano
from the pre-punched roll.
He traded zingers
with the singers' cold stingers
ogling the ringers.
After adjusting
their expectations of truth
God was everywhere.

As Sister Babbitt
relaxed, commenting on the
oriental rugs,
letting her hair down,
she waxed loquacious, her prim
sips turning to slugs.
The other nuns, soon
sorely taxed to show restraint,
seemed wild-eyed, on drugs,
and shed their habits,
their modesty axed. “Girls, take
a look
“--at this encyclopedia somebody brought.”
(Sorry. I got carried away. Meanwhile, back at the abbey.)
The abbess frowned. “I’m
concerned. How shall the sisters
fight acedia?”
The abbot smiled. “I’ve
learned they’ve been browsing an en-
cyclopedia.”

Al, have fun with the sitting.
Here's my weak at-work response.
When Sister Babbit
saw Sister Bobbit they both
unsheathed their honed knives.
They eyed the Bishop
who was dressed in drag with his
hands on the nun's thighs
and his eyes ogling
her vivacious unbound chest
while she faked soft sighs.
Books mentioned in this topic
Mugging the Muse (other topics)The Raj Quartet (other topics)
Marcovaldo (other topics)
Invisible Cities (other topics)
Confessions of a Taoist on Wall Street (other topics)
More...
Authors mentioned in this topic
David Payne (other topics)Thomas Merton (other topics)
Robert Payne (other topics)
Barbara Gowdy (other topics)
David K. Reynolds (other topics)
I came across the book at a Salvation Army store years ago, and luckily the version I got was the original. I think it was published by Tichnor & Fields. I had never read anything like it. It’s really a love story, though a very strange one that isn’t related as such, in which Hoff falls in love with a young woman from the past because of the spell her writing casts on him--specifically, the diary she had kept when she was a little girl.