Sans A Murder

crow alone does not

a murder makes no sky sense

singular tragic

Classical? Will Chopin, a little cello, The Pianist from Warsaw Radio, and maybe a train ride do it for you? ~ Oh yes, of course, this is a Music Theme for December 18, 2013.

Perhaps I should say a few words about how and why we’re here in classical music land. Or maybe not. Johnny picked it. Yes, the R.E.M man selected this Classical Music Theme.  Time for a non sequitur: I’m partial to certain music at certain times. While doing this post I indulged in Chopin, animation and a piece about history which found its way into book and film art via The Pianist.  One could truly go wild with this classical theme. Let’s face it, we could be all over the globe with classic this and classical that. At the moment, about all I can muster is a slow waltz. But the once scandalous waltz is better than nothing, is it not?

*

Chopin ~ Fantasie Impromtu  A short animated film in black in white in honor of keyboards of all instruments.

dewenhsu

*

Chopin ~ Waltz Op Posth. in A minor  

dewenhsu

On The Waltz from Wikipedia  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waltz

In the 1771 German novel Geschichte des Fräuleins von Sternheim by Sophie von La Roche, a high-minded character complains about the newly introduced waltz among aristocrats thus: “But when he put his arm around her, pressed her to his breast, cavorted with her in the shameless, indecent whirling-dance of the Germans and engaged in a familiarity that broke all the bounds of good breeding—then my silent misery turned into burning rage.”[4]

Vraschta’s Waltz [Improvised] – by Alexy Papazian

VideoLifeWorld

~~

Shocking many when it was first introduced,[10] the waltz became fashionable in Vienna around the 1780s, spreading to many other countries in the years to follow. It became fashionable inBritain during the Regency period, having been made respectable by the endorsement of Dorothea Lieven, wife of the Russian ambassador.[11]Almack’s, the most exclusive club in London, permitted the waltz from about 1812 on, though the entry in the Oxford English Dictionary shows that it was considered “riotous and indecent” as late as 1825.

What would they make of Lady Gaga and Madonna and the rest of the sex song singers? Hmm. There might be a lot of bonfires……..

*

Departures ~ Cello solo ~ Ave Maria Gounod and movie theme.  We’re all born and we all die. It’s good to go out in style.  When his music world goes bust, a cellist has to find another way to put rice and fish on the kitchen table.  A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

How many stars do I give Departures as a film? *****  5 out of 5. IMDb  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1069238/

Ala Braulio

Geese? Geese? Yes, Geese again.

*

Liszt in (less than) 200 seconds  Yeah, musicians have always been HOT STUFF–even way back then. I just could not resist sharing this creative music history lesson.  It’s fun. It won’t hurt.

lisztcompetition·

*

Mandelbrot Fractal Zoom: Bach, Fractals and the Art of Fugue —Fractals, math art, oh yeah, music deals with numbers and a lot of them. Huh, who knew? Maybe that’s why children who receive some form of music instruction while in school get stimulated to do things.  Oh I’m not saying what kind of things. Just things. Like thinking and such.

Harlan Brothers :

There is a poetic connection between the music of Bach and the famous fractal known as the Mandelbrot set. Bach’s compositions represented the height of Baroque sensibilities; intricacy, nested levels of adornment, and the suggestion of infinite space were compelling structural properties in the art and architecture of his day.

*

The Lone Ranger & Tonto versus the Iron Horse Makers aka The Corrupt Military Industrial Complex ~~ Does Disney have any clue what a subversive film The Lone Ranger truly is?  I sincerely doubt it.  Neither do a lot of people who post bs on online about Depp’s makeup and the rest of the basically unimportant shyte. The important shyte is what’s going on–and still going– with the military industrial complex’s death grip on the world.  As for the music and the film, well,  hold onto your hat, because these guys are playing with dynamite! Not to mention that gun inside Red’s leg.

halonah paiss   “Guillermo Tell – Obertura – Gioacchino Rossini” 

*

I can’t help but return to Chopin and a touch of history portrayed in film with this last piece. Here everything comes together–the actual pianist playing the music of specific historical moment in time. Can you imagine playing anything while under military attack?

The Pianist ~  W. Szpilman  Information on the film and the music ~> The Pianist on Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pianist_(2002_film)

profslump20078

Wladyslaw Szpilman plays F. Chopin: Nocturne C sharp-minor Op.[20] posth. Recorded in Warsaw at home in 1997. Cameraman Jaroslaw Mazur. Copyright 1998 by Andrzej Szpilman
Wladyslaw Szpilman (Wladek) played this music in the last live broadcast for the Polish Radio on 23.9.1939 . An hour later German bombs destroyed its power supply and the Warsaw Radio closed for long 6 years.

~~~~~~

Speaking of Warsaw Radio  — There is a new band which takes its name from the musicians who played on the Warsaw Radio Station in 1939. I stumbled upon the band while searching for another info video regarding the historical radio station. You can discover them online —>> http://www.warsaw-radio.com/ . Oh and they’re currently performing in the side bar videos. Their most recent video release is Light Up The Night and it’s headlining the recent post list aka mixed relish. Their music is  not classical, but the connection to the last musical selection above warrants drawing a line to their dot.  

Thanks Johnny.  I might never have discovered Warsaw Radio if not for your Classical Music Theme choice, and my own adherence to Dirk Gently’s holistic detective paradigm.  True story.  Yeah.

*** More Classic Links

Bear:  CLASSICAL   http://bearspawprint.wordpress.com/2013/12/18/music-themes-classical/
___________________________________
Johnny: CLASSICAL COMPOSITION    http://johnnyojanpera.wordpress.com/2013/12/17/music-theme-december-18-classical-composition/
___________________________________
Eva: CLASSICAL? WILL CHOPIN, A LITTLE CELLO, THE PIANIST FROM WARSAW RADIO, AND MAYBE A TRAIN RIDE DO IT FOR YOU? OH YES, OF COURSE, THIS IS A MUSIC THEME —                         https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/12/18/classical-will-chopin-a-little-cello-the-pianist-from-warsaw-radio-and-maybe-a-train-ride-do-it-for-you-oh-yes-of-course-this-is-a-music-theme-for-december-18-2013/
___________________________________
Deborah:  home page    http://myriad234.wordpress.com/
___________________________________
Willow:   home page    http://willowdot21.wordpress.com/
___________________________________
D.S. Nelson: home    http://hatpaintladdersandwonkypooh.wordpress.com/

 

 

Ambrosio Vilhalva 1960 -2013, Guarani leader murdered

Is there no end to violence?

Why do we not live in harmony with the Earth and each other?

When will this destruction of people and Earth cease? When all Homo sapiens are dead? Is that the answer? Our own self-destruction of one another in order to stop death and destruction? Perhaps that’s what it will take for all of us to realize we and the Earth are one.  There’s more truth in “ashes to ashes” than we like to acknowledge as we play in cyberspace.

~~

Yes, I discovered this news item and dropped it here with some dark questions leaving visitors to create context themselves by following the links and watching the videos.

What we have here is a murder of another Indigenous person fighting for the right to life for his people and the planet.  That’s why this death/murder is of public interest.  There are people grieving for this man. His family. His friends. We talk a great deal about behaving like civilized creatures when there are many among us who are anything but civil to each other.  Not everyone does want a world of peaceful coexistence. Lots of people benefit from the murder and mayhem inflicted on Indigenous and Native people–and those Non-natives who support them. (Oh, everyone has DNA that was once “native” to a particular place on the planet. Yeah, even if you’ve forgotten this point, your genes haven’t.)  Profit is the name of their game. Unfortunately many of us contribute to the Profit by creating a demand for all sorts of nice things we take for granted–like clean drinking water, access to a lot of food, heat on demand, electricity, gas and all the toys that come with this package deal. Our wants often are supplied by others who cannot and do not enjoy the same. What would you do if all the “easy” things disappeared? No grocery stores with shelves full of yum yums. No gas at the pumps. No electricity 24/7. No water for every load of laundry and shower on demand. What would your life be like if someone stole your home? Hm? Oops, is that the nightmare button I’ve pushed?

Have we got context now? Hmm. I’m not sure. But this is what’s here now.

*

Survival International site  http://www.survivalinternational.org/
News:  http://www.survivalinternational.org/news/9797
*
*
Birdwatchers 2 of 11

5 Stages Of Grief – Or – How To Stand Up Again After Death Kicks Your Ass

Grief keeps crossing my path. The other day there were articles about men and grief on Beyond Meds. They dealt with how mainstream culture emotionally cripples men by forcing them to suppress their grief. How screwed up is that? Hurt yourself more by not sharing the pain of loss? That’s some dark evil mojo in my opinion. Today MisBehaved Woman wrote about her grief issues and it struck me that it’s not just men who have major problems dealing with grief but women also. It all comes down to some unhealthy social conditioning that needs serious reform. So, on this day when I’ve been blogging and reblogging quite a bit, I’m going to reblog again. Because this is IMPORTANT for everyone. We’re all alive and we all will die. We all deal with death. Is it the ticket to your next adventure or is it an abyss of fear that scares the shit out of you? If you’re angry and afraid, what the hell are you going to do about it so that you can live instead of exist?

Link to Beyond Meds: Men and grief  http://beyondmeds.com/2013/10/08/men-and-grief

Breakfast Special, #16, “Alternate Realities”

Alternate Realities

Lily stood in her dark apartment looking out at the snow in the small backyard between the alley and house glistening in the moonlight. The quiet felt good after nearly constant social interaction all day and late into the night. The impromptu potluck that had started out as a simple way for people to gather for an easy meal had gradually evolved into a full-blown social event. For several hectic hours there’d been a nearly constant flow of food, music, news and talk on the first floor of JJ’s home. Then, thankfully later than the weather advisory report had estimated, snow began falling in earnest and people gradually returned to their homes. The makeshift walkway made of boards, cardboard, plywood and house siding was now being stacked onto the porches in order to keep it from disappearing under the new snow.

Yesterday she’d tired herself out mentally with studying and working ahead on her coursework. Today had been unexpectedly satisfying concerning the never-ending neighborhood assistance work. It had worn her out physically and mentally by the time they’d put JJ’s home back to rights after the potluck. Throughout the evening she and Sarge had met up several times, but only in passing as she moved from one task to another: washing and rewashing plates, checking in with the crews, updating information about current needs, passing out boxes of food, clothing, baby items and children’s toys.  While she’d been changing out the food dishes at the potluck she had noticed that he and Anton appeared to be keeping company together in the way of men and wondered what to make of it. Whenever she’d observed him during the course of the evening it seemed he was always in paying attention mode as if he was literally reading the people around him like people did books on tape. She’d been grateful that he hadn’t come pestering her for attention when there had been so much to do.

Only when Sarge finally came through the apartment door, having finished stacking the boards on the porch after refusing to allow her to help him, did she think about turning on a light. He sat down on the red rug to remove his boots as she flipped the light switch. “Hey, leave it off if you want. There’s plenty of light coming in from the windows.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” She hoped he wasn’t just being polite as she did not really did not want to leave on the artificial light which entirely changed the room’s atmosphere and its connection to the world outside the windows.

“I’m sure. It feels good in here after all the people and music. Smells nice too, sort of like the pine trees in the park but way better.”

Lily quickly turned off the lights. “Hey, Little George sent over some pants and a couple of shirts that might fight you close enough for a change of clothes. Loose is better than tight, right? That is if you don’t mind wearing someone else’s clothes.”

Sarge laughed a little while unlacing his boots. “I have five brothers. While growing up there was nothing but someone else’s clothes. From the looks of Little George, my belt should keep things decent. Mine definitely need at least a rinsing out after today. It’s very considerate of Little George to share his threads.”  Boots off and on the mat, he remained seated on the rug as he looked up at her. “How are you?”

“Me? Oh I’m okay. It’s been a busy day.”

“And night.” It had not escaped Sarge’s notice that Lily had been perpetually in motion the entire evening. Only briefly had he wondered if she was avoiding him. Observing Esther, JJ and several other women and men also constantly putting forth the same efforts to keep the food tables and the first floor rooms generally in order, passing out cardboard boxes with items to meet specific individual needs, talking with and taking notes from nearly everyone who put in an appearance, he quickly realized she was doing what she normally did on such occasions. He looked past her to the windows where he could see that the snow was falling harder and thicker now. “Has Mother Nature gone loco or what? ”

Lily perched on the couch’s arm. “It would be easier to put up with if there was at least some sunshine. The constant grey sky day in and day out is depressing. Five brothers. That’s a lot of ‘guy’ under one roof. Any sisters?”

Sarge shook his head, rose from the floor and went to the windows. “No sisters. How about you?”

“Just one brother.” Now bitterly regretting having brought up the subject of siblings in an effort to learn something more about him, Lily searched for a way of immediately dropping of it. Just thinking about her brother Peter threatened to push her beyond exhaustion to a crying jag she didn’t want to have. Trying hard to suppress a sudden surge of memories, she struggled to remain in the present. Clenching her hands, she worked on refocusing her mind by watching Sarge leaning against the radiators to look upward at the night sky.

“Ever feel like you’ve been grabbed by aliens and dropped into an alternate universe, Lily?” said Sarge.

“Every goddamned day.”  Having spoken aloud without intending to, Lily covered her mouth with both hands to stop herself from saying anything else.

Hearing the anger in her words and the strain in her voice, Sarge turned around.  “Hey, Lily. What’s wrong?” Even though he’d never before seen the frantic expression he now saw on her face, Sarge knew it wasn’t a portent of good things to come. When he carefully moved towards her, she shook her head, hands still over her mouth, meanwhile sliding off the couch arm onto the cushions.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” Lily said quickly as Sarge sat down near her on the couch. She took a deep breath, held it then slowly exhaled. “I’m okay. Just too much snow. “

*

*

“Yeah, too much snow. Do you want me to go get Rosa?” Unsure of himself and what to do, Sarge sat very still watching Lily trying to regain her composure.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t bother Rosa. She doesn’t need anything else to do. It’s just been a very very long day.” Thinking she had herself under control, she pushed her hair behind her ears and tried to smile at him. “Just nerves.”

“Nerves? Am I making you nervous? Uncomfortable? I don’t mean to if I am. I could go over to Anton’s place and crash there if that would help. Just say the word.”

Lily shook her head vigorously. “It’s not you. Really it’s not.” She rubbed her forehead hard while deciding how much she wanted to say. “Actually, now this may sound strange. But I mean it actually it helps with you being here.” She wiped away a sudden tear. “I just need, I need to not think about the snow. Okay? You being here has kept me from thinking about snow too much. This isn’t making any sense to you, is it?”

“Not much. Yet. Keep going. Why shouldn’t you think about the snow?” Sarge glanced out the window at the new falling snow.

“It reminds me of home. Especially now with all of it making everything look like not here, but like there. Like I remember it.” She took another deep breath and let it go. “Remember it is all I can do. I can’t go back . . . can’t go back home because it doesn’t exist anymore. Not the way it was anyway. Here definitely feels like another world. Yeah, it’s exactly like I’ve been grabbed by aliens and dropped in another universe. ”

“I understand that. It’s how I’ve been feeling the last couple of days. But in a good way.”

“I bet. A crazy woman feeds you soup, and after that everything goes topsy turvy.”

“Hey, I ate that soup totally of my own volition.” Sarge hesitated. “Where is, was, home, Lily?”

“Where?” She laughed a little. “Nowhere. It was in the middle of absolutely nowhere; in Alaska, near the Canadian border.”

“Do you mean like in the wilderness? No city? No town?”

She nodded. “No city. No town. Nothing to find on a map. Just some people living together like they had for a very long time.”

“What happened?”

Lily stared out the windows. She thought about going through the contents of Sarge’s coat pockets with Esther and why she’d given into doing that. She looked back at the man patiently waiting for her to talk or not. “A Stealth Bomber happened. Didn’t know what it was at the time. Not until quite a long time afterwards. But that’s what it was. Three of them flew overhead. One had a technical malfunction and dropped a bomb. Right there in the middle of absolutely nowhere a bomb falls on a village so tiny no one ever put it on any map. What are the odds of that? Tell me, what are the odds?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that thirty-three people are gone. With all the rest of nowhere for a bomb to fall on by accident, one fell right there. Is that crazy or what?”

“That’s definitely in the insane not probable odds category.” Sarge decided against asking any of the questions that were quickly coming to mind. Though she’d relaxed considerably while talking, now in the dark room with only the light of the moon reflected off the snow delineating her face, her raw grief was starkly evident. He followed her gaze out the window for a moment as he considered his next move. Deciding being practical offered the best route of action, he stood up and moved to block her view of the windows. Offering her both his hands he spoke to her in the tone he used with his brothers’ children. “Come on. It’s way past your bedtime, Missy. There’s a down quilt with your name on it waiting.” When she tentatively put one hand and then the other in his, Sarge gently pulled her to her feet. “That’s it. Up we go. Since you’ve been such a good girl today, I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

“Oh really? Do I get to pick which one?” Lily let go of his hands as they turned together towards the bedroom.

“Sure. Which one would you like to hear? The Three Pigs? Red Riding Hood? Peter Pan?” When he uttered the last, Lily gasped, then, as her knees buckled, grabbed hold of his shirt to keep from falling to the floor. Sarge reacted by catching her around her waist with one arm. Feeling her struggle to regain her feet and fail to do so, he adjusted his stance, slipped his other arm under her legs and lifted her up.”Okay, well so much for that.idea. You have definitely played way too hard today, little Missy.”

One hand clutching the back of his shirt, Lily pushed lightly against his chest. “I’m okay. You can put me down. Just need some sleep.”

Instead of putting her back on her feet, Sarge decided to carry her into the bedroom. “First you need to reach the bed then comes the sleeping. Here we go. Okay, toss or drop? Which do you prefer?”

“Huh? I have no idea what you mean. Just put me down already.”

“’Just down’ sounds like a drop to me” With that, Sarge leaned a little over the bed and let her fall out of his arms onto it. Feeling along the wall in the dark until he found the switch he turned on the small wall light. She stared up at him.

Lily whispered, “Sarge, Peter will never grow up.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s the point of Never Never Land. Some people never grow up, no matter what their age.”

Lying in the middle of the bed where he had dropped her, Lily shook her head slowly from side to side. “Not them. I mean, my brother, Peter.”

Sarge carefully sat down on the bed next to her. “Oh the shit that comes out of my mouth at the wrong times. What are the odds, Lily? What are the odds?”

“Oh I’m too damn tired to work that problem in my head right now. Can I get back to you with the answer in the morning?”

“Better yet, how about drawing me a map?”

“A map of what?”

Sarge tapped lightly on her forehead. “Of all the minefields in there so I stop making things go Boom boom!”

Lilly laughed softly. “You’re funny, Sarge.”

“If you say so, I must be.” He watched her try to keep her eyes open then give up and fall deep into a hard sleep.

~~~

Breakfast Special, #17, Never Hook a Gift Fish In the Gills https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/08/08/breakfast-special-17-never-hook-a-gift-fish-in-the-gills/

Duffy –Sensual Saturday Playlist

Sorry to post hit and run, but when you got to write, you got to write. Listen and love the Lady’s tunes.
namaste

What’s really up with Zits? Time travel Sherman Alexie style in Flight.

Hehehehehehe. Okay, if you have no appreciation of dark humor stop reading right now and stay far away from Flight–far far away. Got it? I’m warning you. This is no sweet flight of fancy tome.  Our hero is an angry fifteen year old male of Irish and Indian origin with some serious grief and father issues–among other things. Now sit back and sip your hot tea, latte or bloody mary and think about a young man who refers to himself as Zits. If you can’t relate then it’s probably in your best interests–and mine (yes, I do fear homicidal repercussions from unhappy readers)–to go nowhere near this particular Sherman Alexie book.  That said, last night I stayed up very late reading Flight via flashlight outside on the front porch–much to the dismay of anyone who had their doors or windows open to receive my hooting laughter when I turned to page 146.  Some folks do not find boiled birdies funny–and I do understand that such minds exist. On the other hand, there are minds, such as mine and apparently Alexie’s, which find self boiled birdies absolutely hilarious–especially in the context of a potentially violent encounter between a homeless Indian man and the usual well-heeled white dude. If by some means, like using your local public library, you garner a copy of Flight you too will be in serious need of comic relief by the time you turn to page 146. Though, hopefully, you’ll have found other darkly comic things to chuckle loudly about before page 146. But you’ll also have encountered several incidents of mayhem, murder and molestation along the way.  The lives of foster children are not all filled with sugar mommies and daddies. Nor do many events in American history since 1492 recount pleasant Thanksgiving din dins between Europeans and Indigenous folks.

Ever wonder how to diffuse the building anger of teenager? Well, Sherman Alexie offers one way–history lessons of the “not me” and the “me?!” variety. Yep, direct confrontations of some dark sad truths of reality provide the fodder for the adolescent mind to chew heartily on and time travel, complete with out-of-body experiences, is the medium.  From the Battle of the Little Bighorn to the grief ridden friendly skies of a private flight instructor Alexie takes us on a journey through history. Along the way he’ll shred your heart, sew it back together without anesthesia, and then shove it back into your chest.  You’re going to need every last piece of humor to endure the operation.  If you’re not laughing when Harry Potter takes a swan dive–then you might be dead and gone. Or you’ve abandoned Alexie’s exploration of time travelling adventures as an instruction manuel. Each episode serves as a short story with ethical issues galore. FBI agent Hank Storm may not get your heartstrings trembling–but Gus, Bow Boy and Small Saint could very well lay you flat on the floor demolishing an extra-large box of kleenex–or soaking an extra-large cotton hanky.

Zits experiences violence in many forms via his out-of-body time travelling–and this makes him seriously consider his pains of loss, abandonment and identity. Children NEED fathers–preferably decent men who care about their welfare. That lacking, one must find family where one can. Sometimes the concept of ‘family’ has not a damned thing to do with genetics and biology. It’s got to do with who gives a damn.

I’ve been a fan of Alexie’s work ever since reading his collection of poems and short stories The Business of Fancydancing. Yes, there’s a film by that title too– and it’s a great film. But–it was the text that had me wanting to scream and laugh from one page to the next. Ever felt bushwhacked by a writer? Well that’s how I felt while reading The Business of Fancydancing. It was great. Disturbing at times, but great nonetheless. I will never forget the story of the man, Eve and the post office. Hell, I’ve never entered a post office since and not thought of the story. The same holds true for Flight. It will not numb or bore you to tears. Not sure you can relate yet? Okay, who has had bad acne? Raise your hands now.

The Official Website of Sherman Alexie–be forewarned–it’s a tad off kilter:  http://www.fallsapart.com/

Beautiful Day’s Waterlily

Clicking on Beautiful Day’s image will take you to Voices from the Gaps and more information about Ella Cara Deloria and others.

 It’s Native American Heritage Month and today’s highlight is the incredible Ella Cara Deloria’s work Waterlily which is a fictional presentation of years of her field research regading women in Lakota, Dakota and Nakota culture pre-white contact. In an effort to make her information accessible to the general reading white public, Ella ‘packaged’ her first hand research of tradional Sioux culture in a novel. Deloria wanted to enhance understanding of Sioux culture, values and history for white audiences while perserving a record of this cultural information. Waterlily is the only such work of its kind–it’s about Sioux women, written by an educated  Sioux woman based on the sharing of direct knowledge by women who lived the traditional ways. “It was a way of life that worked.” Deloria, Speaking of Indians.  If you’re interested in taking a journey through a different way of living during a very different time, Ella offers such an adventure. 

 

impact

blink hiroshima

      gone children, mothers, fathers

                blink nagasaki

 

 

 

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atomic_bombings_of_Hiroshima_and_Nagasaki

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