Saturday, June 09, 2018
Friday, June 08, 2018
Tuesday, June 05, 2018
Saturday, June 02, 2018
Friday, June 01, 2018
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Friday, May 25, 2018
Friday is Skyday
 | |||
| Sunset of a life. Still plans. Still lots of desire. And a status quo. One has to change some things then. Those, left behind might be shocked.* |
* Someone recently said:
Those affected, those left behind, may it happen after two years or after 42, will never understand. You will always be the bad woman, the bad guy.
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Saturday, May 19, 2018
Saturday Night Music
Friedrich Gulda (16 May 1930 - 27 January 2000)
From the Munich Philharmonic Hall Munich Piano Summer Festival 1989
From the Well-Tempered Clavier Part II by Johann Sebastian Bach
0:32 Prelude in A flat major
4:12 Fugue in A flat major
From the Well-Tempered Clavier Part I by Johann Sebastian Bach
7:10 Prelude in C sharp minor
9:06 Fugue in C sharp minor
13:18 Prelude in G major
14:07 Fugue in G major
16:52 Friedrich Gulda - For Rico
20:06 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Sonata in B flat major K 333
20:06 Allegro
25:09 Andante cantabile
30:10 Allegretto grazioso
36:29 The Doors / Friedrich Gulda (arr.) - Light My Fire
44:40 Friedrich Gulda (arr.) - Die Reblaus (Traditional)
Inexpensive Progress
Inexpensive Progress
Encase your legs in nylons,
Bestride your hills with pylons
O age without a soul;
Away with gentle willows
And all the elmy billows
That through your valleys roll.
Let's say goodbye to hedges
And roads with grassy edges
And winding country lanes;
Let all things travel faster
Where motor car is master
Till only Speed remains.
Destroy the ancient inn-signs
But strew the roads with tin signs
'Keep Left,' 'M4,' 'Keep Out!'
Command, instruction, warning,
Repetitive adorning
The rockeried roundabout;
For every raw obscenity
Must have its small 'amenity,'
Its patch of shaven green,
And hoardings look a wonder
In banks of floribunda
With floodlights in between.
Leave no old village standing
Which could provide a landing
For aeroplanes to roar,
But spare such cheap defacements
As huts with shattered casements
Unlived-in since the war.
Let no provincial High Street
Which might be your or my street
Look as it used to do,
But let the chain stores place here
Their miles of black glass facia
And traffic thunder through.
And if there is some scenery,
Some unpretentious greenery,
Surviving anywhere,
It does not need protecting
For soon we'll be erecting
A Power Station there.
When all our roads are lighted
By concrete monsters sited
Like gallows overhead,
Bathed in the yellow vomit
Each monster belches from it,
We'll know that we are dead.
John Betjeman (28 August 1906 – 19 May 1984)
Encase your legs in nylons,
Bestride your hills with pylons
O age without a soul;
Away with gentle willows
And all the elmy billows
That through your valleys roll.
Let's say goodbye to hedges
And roads with grassy edges
And winding country lanes;
Let all things travel faster
Where motor car is master
Till only Speed remains.
Destroy the ancient inn-signs
But strew the roads with tin signs
'Keep Left,' 'M4,' 'Keep Out!'
Command, instruction, warning,
Repetitive adorning
The rockeried roundabout;
For every raw obscenity
Must have its small 'amenity,'
Its patch of shaven green,
And hoardings look a wonder
In banks of floribunda
With floodlights in between.
Leave no old village standing
Which could provide a landing
For aeroplanes to roar,
But spare such cheap defacements
As huts with shattered casements
Unlived-in since the war.
Let no provincial High Street
Which might be your or my street
Look as it used to do,
But let the chain stores place here
Their miles of black glass facia
And traffic thunder through.
And if there is some scenery,
Some unpretentious greenery,
Surviving anywhere,
It does not need protecting
For soon we'll be erecting
A Power Station there.
When all our roads are lighted
By concrete monsters sited
Like gallows overhead,
Bathed in the yellow vomit
Each monster belches from it,
We'll know that we are dead.
John Betjeman (28 August 1906 – 19 May 1984)
Friday, May 18, 2018
Tuesday, May 15, 2018
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Tuesday, May 08, 2018
Saturday, May 05, 2018
Tuesday, May 01, 2018
Saturday, April 28, 2018
Tuesday, April 24, 2018
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Saturday, April 14, 2018
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
Saturday, April 07, 2018
Tuesday, April 03, 2018
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Thursday, March 29, 2018
Laughing Lhursday* – The Atomic Theory
In case you wish to read the words: The Englisch text you find here, at the blog of my friend Jams who today would have become 55; the translation into German here.
Like five years ago, I do like thinking of my friend Jams having a pint of plain tonight with Flann O'Brien [and perhaps a second with Father Jack whilst Ted (not Father Ted, obviously) is reciting an episode of The Master and Margarita; discussing with Sergeant Pluck the advantages and disadvantages of becoming a bicycle, whilst feeding Mimi with cheese; taking phantastic photos while strolling around in his new surroundings without feeling any pain in his knees, let alone longing for Garra rufa to nibble skin off his feet; organising a weekly poetry contest the winner of which will be rewarded with a bicycle-esque looking William Topaz McGonagall-statue and ... ah ... oh well ... enjoying his new alltemporaries with what he uses to call drivel, and now and then sending love to his not-wife Shirl, a smile to his Mum and Dad, a twinkle of his eyes to Tim, Li, Elahe and amongst others ... well ... to you and to me.
* [For first time visitors]:
Typo in the title?
Nah.
It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.
Saturday, March 24, 2018
Friday, March 23, 2018
Dear Jams!
Sometimes... sometimes it still does seem not real.
Sometimes I am longing to joke with you, to swear with you...
ach! I miss you, my friend!
Yesterday, was the fifth anniversary.
And I am sitting here, writing this, and my eyes are filling themselves with tears.
Sláinte, Jams!
Sometimes I am longing to joke with you, to swear with you...
ach! I miss you, my friend!
Yesterday, was the fifth anniversary.
And I am sitting here, writing this, and my eyes are filling themselves with tears.
Sláinte, Jams!
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Saturday, March 17, 2018
Saturday, March 10, 2018
Saturday, March 03, 2018
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