Something not for Thursday….

Apologies, folks, but I experienced some annoying audio issues with my computer this evening, so Something For Thursday will be delayed until tomorrow. Tech: I love it when it works and I want to strangle it when it doesn’t!

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Spring in the Woods (supposedly)

The other day I went to Chestnut Ridge on what was the first sunny Sunday morning in what felt like months. Of course, being a typical Western New York spring, it was a cold morning and nothing at all is growing up there yet. But nature is nature, and photography is photography!

One of my favorite trees.
I almost love this shot…but the focus is off. I needed to change it to Auto-focuse Continuous, and I needed to set my auto-focus for detecting faces.
A bed of acorns and moss
I love all the old crumbling stonework in this park.
My new content-creation tripod fits perfectly in the leg tool pocket of my overalls!
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Tuesday Tones

Some pieces of music, like Beethoven’s Fifth or the William Tell Overture, become so overplayed as to become virtual cliche. The same can be said of Mozart’s Serenade #13 in G Major for strings, which is better known for the title Mozart gave it: Eine kleine nachtmusik,  or “A Little Night Music”.

What kind of night was Mozart thinking of here? Clearly he wasn’t thinking of the night itself, with its darkness falling over Vienna or its surrounding landscape. I think he was rather thinking of inside, with candles and fires burning. This music is too bright, too joyous, and too elegant to suggest an external darkness.

Eine kleine nachtmusik is likely best known for its opening movement and its opening bars in particular. Milos Forman uses those bars to convey how well-known Mozart’s music is known even years after his death, when a bitter Antonio Salieri plays that famous opening phrase for the priest who has come to hear his confession, after the priest has previously failed to identify any of Salieri’s own melodies, each one having been “very famous in its day”. The inner movements and the finale contain their own sparkle and magic, though. 

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“What’s the meanings of this?!” –Squirrely Dan, LETTERKENNY

A startling development from yesterday morning:

Yes, that is the Sun, rising in the east like it is maintained is still the protocol for this sort of thing, behind Casa Jaquandor, and its rising is visible and not obscured by the April cloud-cover in The 716 that can only be properly described as “Venusian”. Our last sighting of direct sunlight was February 27*, and normally this time of year we would not expect any hope of such a thing happening again until the day after Mothers Day, at the earliest. And yet, there’s the Sun, in the sky, being all bright and stuff.

Someone needs to answer for this, I tell you what.

  * This date may not be accurate.

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See, that was more of a one-time thing….

I’m not like many Americans when it comes to the “Founding Fathers”. I do not fall a dead-faint at their feet, the way many of my fellow Americans do. I find that sort of thing fairly performative, and I get a bit irritated whenever a political discussion is raging and the Founding Fathers are invoked: “What would the Founders think of [policy]?” It is fun, though, to see the sputtering that invariably results when I respond, “I don’t care about the Founders.”

We love to get all weepy and lump-in-throat about the Declaration of Independence, but really, we only pretend to get moved about very few of the actual words in that document. Right now, the important stuff probably isn’t the flowery first couple of paragraphs and the “life, liberty, pursuit of happiness” stuff, or the truths we hold to be “self-evident”, because honestly, nothing in recent American history suggests that we hold any of those truths to be evident at all, much less SELF-evident.

Right now the relevant part of the Declaration seems to actually be that long section that comes AFTER the flowery stuff, which is the long list of things that George III did that had those colonists thinking it was time to dissolve the political bonds, et cetera. Particularly interesting, in light of very recent events and the current administration’s activities, are these two items:

For depriving us in many cases, the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

How interesting to find those two things among the list of issues the Colonists had with their Royal government.

Like I said above, I’ve never been one to factor the Founders much into my political thinking–I see no logical reason why political thought in 2025 should be governed by that of a few rich white guys who lived closer to Shakespeare’s time than our own–but that doesn’t mean they’re useless, though. There are still lessons to be found in those dusty old documents, I think.

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Incomprehensible….

I’m not sure why, but I find it comforting sometimes to think about the vastness of the universe and our own general insignificance when one thinks about that very vastness. And here’s the thing: you don’t even have to think about gigantic voids in space so huge that it takes light millions of years to cross it. We like to think that our own Earth is small, “it’s a small world after all”, and that our home in the universe is tiny. Which, I suppose, it is.

But compared to us? This world is still pretty gigantic and contains places that make us look individually like the tiniest of fleas on the largest mammal.

Consider a place called Point Nemo. This has been a particular fascination of mine of late (I even linked a piece about it last fall). It’s a spot in the southern Pacific that is the single point on Earth where you are farthest from any land mass at all.

Such places are called “poles of inaccessibility”. There are such poles on land as well–spots where you are farthest from any ocean, for example–but Point Nemo is the planet’s Oceanic Pole of Inaccessibility. Point Nemo’s three nearest land masses–each islands in either the Pacific or off the coast of Antartica–all lie about 1,670 miles away. And not only is Point Nemo that far from human habitation (though at times there are humans within a few hundred miles of Point Nemo, whenever the International Space Station’s orbit takes it over the area), but Point Nemo is pretty much that far from life at all. Because of its distance from land and the ocean currents that surround it, the water there–all 13,000 feet deep of it–has virtually no nutrient content, and thus there is almost nothing living beneath the surface.

Because of that depth and the remote location, the region surrounding Point Nemo is generally the target area for satellites and spacecraft that have been abandoned and allowed to crash back to the planet.

I don’t know if it’s the times we’re living in, but where the idea of being stranded in a place like Point Nemo is genuinely terrifying, I also find it strangely comforting to remember that human concerns are still very small in comparison not just to the entire universe, but to this little planet of ours.

Here’s a video about an expedition to Point Nemo. Why go to such a place? I suppose for the same basic reason one climbs a mountain: because it’s there.

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Something for Thursday

Sticking with the theme for this month (which I’ve only just now decided was a theme for this month), here in National Poetry Month, I’ll continue exploring the intersection of music and poetry. Back when I was a serious music student, I sometimes thought about setting favorite poems to music, including what is likely my favorite poem of all time, “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe. This complex and meaning-laden poem has thrilled me ever since I first read it, likely in 11th grade:

It was many and many a year ago,
   In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
   By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
   Than to love and be loved by me.
 
I was a child and she was a child,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
   I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
   Coveted her and me.
 
And this was the reason that, long ago,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
   My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
   And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
   In this kingdom by the sea.
 
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
   Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
   In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
 
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
   Of those who were older than we—
   Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
   Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
 
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
   In her sepulchre there by the sea—
   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

So when I went searching for settings of “Annabel Lee”, one of the first ones I discovered was…a bluegrass setting.

And it works. Listen for yourself!

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Tuesday Tones

In keeping with National Poetry Month, here is one of my favorite poems: “The Splendour Falls” by Alfred Lord Tennyson, who also happens to be my favorite poet.

The splendor falls on castle walls
   And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
   And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,
   And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O, sweet and far from cliff and scar
   The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugles; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
   They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
   And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

I don’t remember not loving that poem. And here it is, set for chorus by Frederick Delius. I love the way the setting captures the repeated “dying, dying, dying….” with falling chords and delayed resolution.

 

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Unlimited Grocery Phone Tobacco Clothes

Intriguing storefront, Buffalo, NY
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A few notes….

Here are some Notes from some recent goings-on in my world!

Note the First: We are in the midst of a typically awful WNY spring. Longtime readers or followers on social media will know that spring is my least favorite season by a large margin, because in this region spring is mostly a two-month slog of cold and dreary damp weather, and this year is no exception. I can’t even get out to do any real photography because the weather has been typically ghastly, and poor Miranda, my Lumix camera, has no weather sealing. Climate change hasn’t yet done anything to improve springtime in Buffalo Niagara.

Note the Second: The weather forecast for yesterday was an all-day soaking rain that might cause flooding, so for that reason I did not go downtown to the big protest. I hope to make the next one. And I’m sure there will be one, I mean, just look at what these nitwits in charge are doing!

Note the Third: Still kvetching about weather: I’m tired of having to dress like this.

Note the Fourth: I saw a gorgeous photo on social media someplace that someone labeled “One of the best views in baseball”: it’s a shot from the upper deck at PNC Park in Pittsburgh, behind home plate. If you’re familiar, they really nailed the aesthetics of that ballpark when they build it. Not only is the park itself supposed to be very nice (I haven’t actually been there), but the view takes in the entire skyline of downtown Pittsburgh. Sadly, with the Pirates themselves off to their typical start, I left the comment: “That is definitely one of the best views IN baseball, but it remains a shame that it is also one of the worst views OF baseball.”

Note the Fifth: The NFL Draft is coming up. I always find the build-up and learning about the players fun. No real point here, just that.

Note the Sixth: One of my worst habits is my refusal to buy things like socks, shoes, and underwear until at least 90 days after I first think, “Huh, maybe I should replace this.” I have already addressed two of those, and I’m planning a shoe purchase…soon. Ish.

Note the Seventh: In the most bizarre social media kerfuffle I’ve experienced of late, a whole lot of people got mad at me on Threads because I pointed out that the movie Double Jeopardy, the potboiler from 1999 or so with Ashley Judd and Tommy Lee Jones, gets the central legal concept behind its title very, very, oh so very wrong. I found this really surprising. People weren’t just wrong, they were confidently and belligerently wrong. (And yes, I looked up my position and provided receipts, like this.

Note the Eighth: And last note! I added to the overalls collection. I hope this embeds, but here’s a video I made; they’re white Hisea overalls (that’s a new brand I don’t know much about), and I got them because I like the styling of the bib pocket. Most white pairs have a “painters” overalls vibe, with a triangular pocket that I don’t much care for. I like this a lot. Carla got mud on them already, though. Just around the cuffs, but sheesh! (Maybe I’ll just start reviewing overalls. That would give me content for…quite a while.)

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