today's sentimental YouTube - Gilbert Bécaud - L'important c'est la rose & don't you forget it! also Jane Olivor's version--memories of North Vancouver in the late 70's...

high comedy in the second person: in the cafeteria with Connie & Steyn

"If you’re in the courthouse cafeteria with Conrad and you ask him to survey the great sweep of the past four years, he usually opts for military metaphors and starts explaining how he needed to retreat strategically to a “defensible perimeter”: by this stage of the tale, he’s usually moving condiments around the table in battle formations..."

occured to me that Conrad Black has become simultaneously Charles Foster Kane AND George Minifer...media roundup here...most interesting aspect for me was the cringing obsequiousness of most Canadian journalism...& whatever you might want to say about the US, it is impossible to imagine such a figure ever coming to trial in Canada for anything, let alone fraud...we could use a couple of Patrick Fitzgeralds up here...

interesting (if arguable) Alex Cox take on the Death of the Western

"It's fun to speculate on the conversation Peckinpah, Leone and Hellman - the three great directors of anti-westerns - might have had (via an interpreter). But did they speak? Did they get along? In the photo, Peckinpah and Leone don't look at each other. Leone is gazing out, past the camera, his glasses reflecting movie lights. Peckinpah is looking at Hellman, his director. The significance of the second photograph, I think, is what Leone and Peckinpah are doing. Neither is directing. Leone is a visitor to the set. He has time on his hands. Peckinpah is an actor, in a battered coat and hat, playing a supporting cowpoke in a work-for-hire directed by a friend.

By 1978, neither had a western of his own to make. Each would direct one more feature, but the men who had killed off the western had pretty much written themselves out of a job..."

devotes of schadenfreude may get a degree of low pleasure from a retrospective read of neocon troll Mark Steyn's err somewhat partial blog account of his old boss Conrad Black's trial

Lady Bird Johnson--any enemy of billboards & litter is a friend of mine

account of Walter Benjamin's last hours--

"The gold probably tipped the scales in Birman’s favour, notwithstanding her all-round resourcefulness. If her story is true, it might have held out hope for Benjamin too. But Birman’s ‘professor’ was not a believer. Early in life he’d got out of gold – turning away from the path indicated by his family’s wealth – and into a pure, non-remunerative form of work, perhaps best thought of as the investigation of modernity: a cornucopia of social production and, as he envisaged it, a nearly miraculous condition of the kind you might come to understand after long study of an infant prodigy capable of grand engineering schemes, precocious feats of reasoning, high poetic utterance, generosity of spirit and a cruelty that knew no bounds. The European culture that Benjamin loved had the infernal vigour of the child genius, even though, in his reflections on the Second Empire, he could also discern the outlines of the ageing hag. Living on modest means, he did as much in his century for the discursive essay as Montaigne had done in his, though he was better placed, historically, not just to think about the world, but to try to say how the world thought back. Unlike his father, an auctioneer, rentier and speculator, Benjamin at 48 had a universe to offer but very little to transact, in life or on the point of dying, and so on his last journey he took the cash he could muster and the few articles he rightly considered essential: an obscure manuscript, a pocket watch and enough morphine ‘to kill a horse’, as Koestler had described it after their meeting in Marseille. Gold was not part of this crude survival kit, which provided for dispatch rather more than salvation. Benjamin may have been devoted to memory and posterity, but he had very little intellectual or moral interest in the road ahead – his or anybody else’s. ‘We know,’ he wrote in the last of his aphorisms on ‘Messianic time’ in the Theses, ‘that the Jews were prohibited from investigating the future. The Torah and the prayers instruct them in remembrance, however...’"

Value Village Is Booby-Trapped!!

"how many times in harsh winters
have we discussed Zen Arcade
under our factory blankets..."

Evil plotters?

"And it isn’t just the technical competence of alleged British terrorists that people are beginning to doubt: it’s the whole jihadist idea. What world are they aiming for? Most British Muslims, just like most British everyone-else, think it’s all pie in the sky: all rather silly.

Yes, silly. Not “evil” as the red tops would have it. Take care, neocon editors, prime-ministerial speechwriters and opposition spokesmen, with that word “evil”. Evil is cool. Evil is wicked. Evil sells DVDs and airport thrillers. Evil is a gang you might want to be in if you were a clever boy in a cultural mess with a chip on your shoulder. We’re not talking anything as clever as Evil here: we’re talking Weird, we’re talking Crackpot, we’re talking Sad. The idea of using a Jeep to make a terminal explode was, in the latest lingo, a bit gay. We’re talking Failure..."

Elizabeth David's summer cooking classic--

"'You are on holiday. You are in company of your own choosing. The air is clear. You can smell wild fennel and thyme, dry resinous pine needles, the sea. For my part, I ask no greater luxury. Indeed, I can think of none.'"

ps: article contains a Gnocchi recipe...

from Cathy two Montreal trees & my stepson Pete, in the white hat, on stage in Ottawa with that shirtless dude from "Trailer Park Boys" (I have no idea)

The Laugh-Out-Loud Cats

useful collection of Theo Parrish playlists

"Love of the music should be the driving force of any producer, performer or DJ. Everything else stems from that core, that love. With that love, sampling can become a tribute; An expansion on ideas long forgotten, reconstruction, collage. Using the same understanding openly and respectfully can turn DJing into a spiritual participation. It can turn a few hours of selection into essential history; Necessary listening through movement."


FORGOTTEN FUTURE

1. main ingredient: rolling down a mountainside-rca
2. herbie hancock: thought it was you-columbia
3. bohannon: the groove i feel-dakar
4. patrice rushen: what's the story-prestige
5. gary bartz: carnival de l'esprit
6: oscar scully: bukom mashie_soundway
7. pleasure: straight ahead-fantasy
8. Todd Terry Presents The Dream Team - Love Is What We Need" (Freeze Records).
9. ? mr fingers: i'm strong+??+ martin luther king
11. three chairs: all over_three chairs
12. rotating assembly: illumination-ss
13. meg: kouro (theo parrish mix)
14. rich medina: minstrel speak-diaspora
15. rotating assembly: them drums-ss
16. theo parrish - timeislafinacharunninout-ss
17. larry heard: _trackmode
18. the dells: uget04
19. gap band: out of the blue_tattoo

numerous excellent mixes including new Theo Parrish (!!) at bozman website - Soulful Sound 4 Soulful people

cyanotypes of British Algae by Anna Atkins 1799-1871

all six parts of Kevin Brownlow's Cinema Europe a truly revelatory series about the silent era, are on Google video...

reposting of an old mosses favorite--Guston's Nixon

at the always-interesting Courtauld site, bird photographer
Justin de Villeneuve's 'Krays'--

"Take my picture of the two Magpie Geese: When I was 16 and I was in dance hall in Tottenham and Reg and Ronnie Kray swaggered in. They had black Crombie overcoats, spotless white shirts, very slim black ties and they were so menacing that, even before I’d turned round, the hairs on the back of my neck went up - I knew there was danger. Behind them were about 50 guys, equally menacing but standing respectfully back - it was the elegance and the brutality combined that fascinated me. Later I became good friends with Reggie. So the picture of the magpie geese reminds me of Reggie and Ron; they’ve both got that swagger about them..."

Armond's Transformers

"When the Transformers explode from common tools into super beings, the kinetic imagery fulfills the surrealism of Fernand Léger, El Lissitzky—if only they had digital. Bay’s advertising eye creates shots that make you stare back, baffled at the intense clarity and depth. A couple of magnificent low-level shots, looking up at the Transformers overhead and traveling alongside their movements is the damnedest thing. One is suspended in awe—a triumph of TV-commercial aesthetics. Bad Boys II and Pearl Harbor had shots like this, but they lacked the fantasy context. That is, a context sustaining both dreams and dread. Bay’s desert battle with aliens is as terrifying as Starship Troopers yet, when linked to conflagration in our own streets, lacks Paul Verhoeven’s masterful use of absurdist nightmare..."

fine long essay on Jean Sibelius--

"In 1984, the great American avant-garde composer Morton Feldman gave a lecture at the relentlessly up-to-date Summer Courses for New Music, in Darmstadt, Germany. “The people who you think are radicals might really be conservatives,” Feldman said on that occasion. “The people who you think are conservative might really be radical.” And he began to hum the Sibelius Fifth..."

Seattle Tiki...

A Poem for the Seattle Poets

Blue from Player’s Plain
Pharoah & Coltrane
hopped-up hummingbirds
raging on raw honey, oysters &
barnacle-scraping soul-encounters
buzz the pre-dawn Lynnwood rain.

Blue from Winslow Homer
or someone with no home to go to
he wet his finger west
& traces out the weather week
his weakest hunch a sheriff’s gut
thrust out for the informer.

Blue Six’s “Music & Wine”
was a song we heard all the time
before the macrobiotic encounter
split the silver monitor—the crashing
symptoms came complete
with waves of “Om” on yellow gull feet.

Blue moon’s a passenger with no ID
& nothing solid in the dictionary
no per diem, no booking fee,
no very convincing reason to be
alone in swollen solidarity with
the puffer, the skink & the manatee.

late great tenor Fritz Wunderlich sings Richard Strauss's setting of "Monsdschein" from "Des Knaben Wunderhorn"...

just found City of Laughter at the library--

"Or, to put it more simply, the fact that a George Cruikshank print from 1819 shows the Prince Regent farting at radical petitioners demonstrates that someone, somewhere, apart from Cruikshank, must have thought the image sufficiently meaningful to have parted with cash for it. Even if only one punter bought it - unlikely, since the most popular of these prints sold in their hundreds - the image stands as a flag for what was still 'thinkable and doable' during that dark, difficult year of 1819, when scores of working men and women protesting against the government's increasingly jittery attitude to democratic freedom were mown down at Peterloo."

YouTube - Beverly Sills as (Handel's) Queen Cleopatra

farewell Brooklyn soprano Beverly Sills: "It is the coloratura aria to end all coloratura arias -- all trills, arpeggios and stratospheric leaps -- and it goes on forever. Still, when sung with Sills's radiant good humor and triumphant virtuosity, it calls to mind nothing so much as a Fourth of July sparkler that not only refuses to burn out but throws off ever brighter, bolder light as its time elapses..."

a New York Times visit to O'Connor's home in Milledgeville, Ga, also birthplace of Oliver Hardy...

a cache of new Flannery O'Connor letters--

"She downplays her fame, saying that celebrity is 'a comic distinction shared with Roy Rogers' horse and Miss Watermelon of 1955.'"

iii

He hangs hangers in a
cupboard left to right

the wind chime's
soft memory gonging

across his neck,
Chico Hamilton style—

a handswidth or two more or less, unstrapping

the braces, snapping brasses
hinged ruler with oil, rarely looking up,

even at those shivers of bleached
green leaf piercings

where other people move
through the light more or less as he does

but rarely with that quadrant over-the-shoulder-
you-see-what-he-sees angle—no

narrating parrot or hummingbird
or offshore bee would follow so close

knowing neither right nor left
nor above nor below

bouncing around
at the end of a pineal stalk

like the third eye of realism
squinting through the low cloud.

The Electronic Spirit of Erik Satie

"The presence and guidance of Satie's spirit was never more felt than in the programming and playing of the Moog synthesizer. All the wave forms, modulation mixes, oscillations and permutations have never been duplicated since, and the Moog player, who was entirely unfamiliar with the instrument at the time, has no recollection of having done the album whatsoever!!!!!!!"

today's YouTube - Cool Water by Sons of the pioneers

Cantaria

"Cantaria is a library of 'bardic' folk songs, mostly from Ireland, Scotland, and England, intended to be an educational tool for propagating the living song tradition through passing on folk songs (old and new) in a medium where far-flung singers can share songs as easily as if we were all circled up around a fire. So, come join us; there is always room for one more singer and always time for one more song.

Cantaria is unique among lyric web sites because almost every song in our archive has an accompanying MP3 format recording of the song being performed. The library currently contains lyrics for over 251 songs, contributed by a variety of singers, including Andy Irvine and Andy M Stewart. See What's New for recently added songs."

William Empson on Pascal's Wager from Frank Kermode's review of "Against the Christians", the second volume of John Haffenden's vast & very enjoyable biography--

"He argued, while more or less inventing the mathematics of Probability, that since the penalties for disbelief in Christianity are infinitely horrible and enduring, therefore, if there is any probability, however tiny (but finite) that the assertions of religion are true, a reasonable man will endure any degree of pain and shame on earth (since this is known beforehand to be finite) on the mere chance that the assertions are true. The answer is political, not mathematical; this argument makes Pascal the slave of any person, professing any doctrine, who has the impudence to tell him a sufficiently extravagant lie. A man ought therefore to reject such a calculation; and I feel there has been a strange and unpleasant moral collapse during my own lifetime, because so many of our present literary mentors not only accept it but talk as if that was a moral thing to do. Clearly, if you have reduced morality to keeping the taboos imposed by an infinite malignity, you can have no sense of personal honour or of the public good."

a 1968 Ron Padgett Picabia Translation from the new onedit 8 which also has

Lauren Bender
Sean Bonney
Jeff Hilson
Frances Kruk
Kate LaMancuso
Marianne Morris
Abigail Oborne
& editor
Tim Atkins