Sticking a Flag in It
Blogging from the Apple store… this place is nuts. Cashew nuts.
We’re Picturing Apples In Black and White
Trainwrecks Redux
Miriam Makeba collapsed and died onstage in Italy on Monday. Recalling that the same thing happened to Mark Sandman of the band Morphine in 1999 — in Italy — I took it upon myself to research the mysterious Italian Onstage Collapse Syndrome. Well, of course. People do it all the time all over the world. Shakespeare says,
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
A collapse or actual murder onstage is the performance cut short– the ultimate point at which life and art are savagely united.
Eyes Closed, Head Tilted Just So
Free image for a neo-Krautrock or goth band.
I caught the Bang on a Can Allstars with Terry Riley at Le Poisson Rouge the other night. The ways of Mr. Riley are mysterious and hippieful. That stuff usually makes me cringe but when it’s mixed up with blues for maharaja played by the Allstars, it commands respect.
For more enjoyable for me was the Tuesday show at the same venue which featured the music of David Lang. Closing the show was Maya Beiser, who performed the piece “World to Come.” The piece featured Ms. Beiser playing against loops of herself and vocal bits. Something about a cellist playing in ecstasy… it oddly reminded me of Meg White playing drums although Ms. White sometimes looks bored but it’s that sublime tilt of the head when they’re playing.
Getting It Done
Conversations going on right now in this building:
- Tango is dead! Tango is not dead!
- You are going to your cousin’s wedding if I have to drag you by your ear!
- Chicken or tuna surprise?
- Is your homework done? I can’t help with your stupid math. Call your aunt. Turn that video off!
- I think they’re making meth down the hall. Nah, this city’s on all-natural speed.
Waiting for the Compost Express
Still waiting…
On the Other Side of Mirrors
Sometimes you see a mirror and know that if you study yourself in it too long, a hand will reach out and pull you into an alternate universe. (Ok, maybe that never happens to you.) I have a radio that picks up TV bandwidth and I listened to the Nova program, “Parallel Worlds, Parallel Lives” a couple weeks ago in which they explain quantum physics and parallel realities. Listening to the program instead of watching it allowed me to imagine an alternate universe where I’m a documentary filmmaker and my father is a less wingnutty Hugh Hewitt.
A Post Going Pretty Cheap
This is nature playing the $64 question. When nature wins $64, drinks on the house.
It’s a Bomber
I’m going to call this for Obama and crack open the champagne.
Architecture for F*ck’s Sake
The Chanel Mobile Art thing in Central Park deserves the Cool Prize.
(How many Obama trucks are cruising the streets of Manhattan today?)
Pieces of a Marathon
One reason I don’t like crowds is you often have to put up with barriers. With a few modifications, they would make great bike racks for use when not herding sheeple but I guess They didn’t think of that.
GARBAGE!! I suppose it all gets recycled. (Photo from 2007.)
Deep thought: What kind of SAT scores do you need to get into Electoral College?