Gallopin' Gorgons.

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me, " said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore, 

Given Harry his letter. 

Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. 

Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well. 

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, 
and threw the owl out into the storm. 

9 to 4 Shifts.

Hello, welcome to Dollar Tree. Can I help you find anything this Sunday morning?


(Alpaca Grandma pushes her way past, while both snorting and refusing to abide by all traffic laws, she obscenely curses..)
"I know where I am - goddammit! I just can't see your ass, batteries, shit!!"


Mam, that's because our conveniently placed battery center can be found five feet to the left of us..

Yup, right there..

No, not the right - directly to your left..

...

No Mam! Left.. left, left!

Right there. Directly in front you.

Yup, right theeeerrreee mam.

Yes mam, those are batteries.


...


No.. we don't carry car batteries here.

Sorry.

...

Let me know if you need anything more.

Exceeded Our Humanity.

"It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity."

Albert Einstein

The Common Routine.

Annotated passage from The Cocktail Party by T. S. Elliot.

When Love Arrives, Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye.

Maybe love is always in the wrong time zone. Maybe love is not ready for you. Maybe you are not ready for love. Maybe love just isn't the marrying type. Maybe the next time you see love is twenty years after the divorce. Love looks older now, but just as beautiful as you remember. Maybe love is only there for a month. Maybe love is there for every firework, every birthday party, every hospital visit. Maybe love stays. Maybe love can't. Maybe love shouldn't.

Peace (An Elegy), Ryan Scott Oliver.

Elsa's Procession to the Cathedral, Baylor University Wind Ensemble.

Dreaming, Eyes Open, I Believe.

Dare to go there.

Home, Jake Runestad.

Esprit de Corps.

New Beginnings in Long Tradition.

The newness of the sky glows yellow in this starry yonder
Fizzling through shade they glimmer.

Air brisk warm upon earths new day
Dusk scattered breezes blanket the forecast we predict.

November callings lead to forthcoming in dreams aspired towards
Fantastic resounding is the only prophet I abide to.

Let's be thoughtful for new beginnings in long tradition
Discover is coveted in our suspicions and belief.

Disconnected and Creatively Sterile.

When a society is bombarded with stimulation from every angle, it tends to get numb. When technology supplants cell, art tends to become less human. When most every person in our society is among the richest human beings ever to have walked he face of the earth, we tend, to become cheap. When fame is more important than the value of the work, art tends to take a back seat to image. When our religious and philosophical views of reality harden into dead fundamentalism, we grow disconnected and creatively sterile. 

Underneath these roots lies the soil of our most fundamental and primal selves. This is the place where we hold our most basic views of reality. These views are probably not as articulate and coherent as our professed religious or philosophical systems. This is not the place of mathematical proofs or systematic theology but the raw, primordal soup of our existence. This is the place that holds our most basic fears, needs, and desires-the place that gives rise to instinct and passion. This is the soil of our humanness that makes up the ground from which all our thoughts, words, action, and creation spring. This deeper place affects our creativity in the most fundamental ways. 

Excerpt from The Crowd, The Critic, And The Muse by M. Gungor.

Bron-Y-Aur Stomp Led Zeppelin.

Bron-Yr-Aur (Welsh for "breast of the gold", or by extension, "hill of the gold" or "golden hill";^[1] Welsh pronunciation: [brɔn.ər.aɪr]) is a privately owned 18th-century cottage, on the outskirts of Machynlleth, Wales.

Overure to Russlan and Ludmilla, Glinka.

Performed by the Orchestra of the Mariinsky Theatre.

Directed by Valery Gergiev who, yes, indeed is conducting with a toothpick. 

Ruslan and Ludmila (pre-reform Russian: Русланъ и Людмила; post-reform Russian: Руслан и Людмила, tr. Ruslan i Lyudmila) is a poem by Alexander Pushkin, published in 1820. It is written as an epic fairy tale consisting of a dedication (посвящение^[1]), six "cantos" (песни), and an epilogue (эпилог). It tells the story of the abduction of Ludmila, the daughter of Prince Vladimir of Kiev, by an evil wizard and the attempt by the brave knight Ruslan to find and rescue her.

inset on Sunday, December 16, 2018

If Not To Be Honest.

"What is the point of this stupid, painful life if not to be honest? If not to stand up for what one is in the core of one’s being?"

                Excerpt from The Pride by Elyse Sommer.

Zoom Tube.

Aspen.

Breaking Down The Riffs with Natalie Weiss, Episode 3.

Meet Me In St. Louis.

External Expectation.

"Almost everything--all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure--these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." Steve Jobs

The Earth Is Yours, Gungor.

Lol.

The Changing Evolution.

Excerpt from Dog Sees God, Bert V. Royal.           

Profound Sincerity.

If 

I 

Wanted 

To

Become

A 

Actress

I 

Would 

Just 

Go 

Home.

I 

Have 

Learned 

So 

Much.

I 

Will 

Try 

To 

Realize 

The 

Gigantic-ness!

Of

Capabilities!

And 

The 

Way 

I 

Express 

Anger 

Is 

Indescribable.

Peace 

Is 

Just 

Okay 

For 

Everybody 

But 

We 

Will 

Succeed 

Always 

If 

We 

Try 

And 

Become 

Flowers.

               Circle Mirror Transformation, Annie Baker.         

A Week in The Cities.

Company.

Right around 4 minutes and 47 seconds at measure 157 in the opening number from Company, the character Bobby gets to sing, in my opinion, one of Sondheim's most brilliant stand alone vocal lines. Also take particular note of Elaine Stritch's line at 1 minute and 3 seconds and the consistent vocal support and unique use of vibrato throughout the ensemble. Cannot get over this cast album and to be honest i'm not complaining.

All The Planets of All The Suns.

"After they had explored all the suns in the universe, and all the planets of all the suns, they realized that there was no other life in the universe, and that they were alone. And they were very happy, because then they knew it was up to them to become all the things they had imagined they would find."

                   Fifth of July, Lanford Wilson.                       

Symphony No. 4 - IV Finale. Allegro con fuoco, Tchaikovsky.

Myung-Whun Chung conducting the Radio France Philharmonic. This masterful rendition of Tchaikovsky's Finale to his Fourth Symphony is credit to the precision and innovative conducting of Myung-Whun Chung. The subdivisions in his patterns, between minute and expansive, highlight the sublime characteristics in Tchaikovsky's juxtaposed writing between winds & strings. The sparse use of his left hand, along with use of diagonal conducting emphasizes the interpreted construct and expectation of this performance from conductor to symphony. A truly awing performance in all ways.

The Reality of the Soul.

"Oh, miracles! They happen everywhere. They are conditional; miracles are things that people cannot explain. Miracles depend much on time, and place and what we know to be true and do not know. Life is too great a miracle for us to make so much fuss about petty little reversals of what we pompously assume to be the natural order."
         
             Except from Fifth Business, Robertson Davies.