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Unread 07-03-2018, 01:16 PM
Julie Steiner Julie Steiner is offline
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Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: San Diego, CA, USA
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Apologies in advance for the length of this, but I worried that the shorter, simpler version that I posted and retracted earlier in this thread might cause offense. My feelings about Tim are complicated, and I want to take enough time to do them, and him, justice.

Like many former prodigies, Tim felt tremendous pressure to compete with his younger self. The intimidatingly high expectations that come with great potential can be paralyzing. Ironically, though, each success--although initially reassuring and validating--ultimately compounds the problem by setting expectations even higher.

After the loss of Alan Sullivan as his "Editor from Hell," Tim worried that his own poetic career might be irretrievably over. He knew that having someone else help him to rein in his initially-unbridled artistic exuberances resulted in far more effective poems. However, he also knew from long experience that his workshop participation here did not always go well for all parties concerned: Tim often had difficulty distinguishing critiques of his poetry from attacks on his self-worth.

Fortunately, via e-mail and telephone, friends like Rhina P. Espaillat, Catherine Chandler, Jennifer Reeser, and others were able and willing to give him the "tough love" he felt he needed to continue producing work of which he could be (justly) proud.

I tried to be one of those people, but I lacked the requisite patience and diplomacy, and bowed out years ago. I'm very grateful to those who stayed the course.

The topic that Tim and I discussed most often over the years--sometimes quite heatedly, heh--was whether severe self-doubt and narcissism are mutually exclusive (as Tim always insisted) or cause and effect (as I still think).

Tim and I had opposite coping mechanisms for narcissistic anxiety: his substances (nicotine, alcohol), versus my anorexia; his recklessly hurried submissions--sometimes only hours after posting something for comment here, which exasperated many of us when our suggestions were brushed off with, "Well, it was good enough for [Prestigious Editor]"--versus my barely publishing or recording anything; his public self-flagellation for various character flaws, real and perceived, versus my tendency to hide or downplay my strengths, lest even my best not be good enough.

In Tim's memory, I offer his Eratosphere friends the following short and imperfect performances:
"In paradisum"

"May Holy Angels Lead You into Paradise"
To keep myself from obsessively re-recording them forever, I gave myself only three tries at each before hastily posting them. I'm confident that Tim would have approved. (Then again, he might also have pointed out that this post's lengthy focus on my own shortcomings, while supposedly honoring someone else, smacks of narcissism. And he would have been right.)

The first link is a Gregorian chant, traditionally sung as an antiphon at the end of the funeral Mass. Its melodic highlight is the last bit: "et cum Lazaro, quondam paupere aeternam habeas requiem" ("and with Lazarus, once a poor man, may you have eternal rest"). Those words seem particularly appropriate for Tim, since I know that the St. Vincent de Paul Society ministry to the poor in Fargo had a special place in his heart.

The second link is an English paraphrase (not really a translation) of the "In paradisum" chant, set to the tune of "Londonderry Aire" ("O Danny Boy"). I prefer to sing and play at the same time, but when I recorded it that way, the single mic picked up the 'ukulele twice as loud as my voice. So I re-recorded the song as separate tracks, which are not quite in sync in a few places. That really bothers me. I hope that others will be able to enjoy it, anyway. It's a lovely arrangement, and the words (note the Lazarus part again!) are balm for the soul.
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