Remembering that once in the past millennium when discovering all counties of Ireland [causing anyone's reflexes here?], during the first three weeks - probably due to my face being tanned by the Welsh sun - I got asked whether I were French or Italian; that after four weeks, though, people seemingly thought 'Well, neither he's English, Irish nor American, but perhaps Australian?; remembering that after three months I got asked which part of Ireland I was coming from, and that on the very last day when - just to say goodbye - entering a tea-house in Laragh where several times I had enjoyed tea & scones & good talks, the landlord just turned round and said 'Another two weeks, and you're a fucking Paddy, yourself', I think it's time to reveal ...
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Moon, Light & Shadow
Clouds, clouds, clouds tonight. And rain. Nothing to be seen here of tonight's full moon, unlike some days ago, when the astro-physicist before for one night travelling a bit deeper into what humans commonly call our (sic!) universe, focused the observatory's telescope on the almost full moon.
If I remember correctly, the photo contains of 14 shots, and its original size is 80 x 90 centimetres.
So much for the light, and here comes for the shadow.
If I remember correctly, the photo contains of 14 shots, and its original size is 80 x 90 centimetres.
So much for the light, and here comes for the shadow.
Labels:
astronomy,
astrophysics,
Maggie Reilly,
Mike Oldfield,
Moon,
songs
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Just a thought
Sometimes I wish I knew less
about violence in its various forms.
And when being in such a mood,
I wish I were a humble gardener,
fond of literature and poetry,
writing a poem now and then.
Not necessarily, hm?
When a book and a head collide and a hollow sound is heard, must it always have come from the book?
Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (1742-1799)
Labels:
aphorisms,
Lichtenberg,
quotations
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Birth & Death(lessness)
It's once again the (International) Day of the Book.
Well, and once again I do not care, but just repeat:
For me 365 days in any year are days of books,
and 366 in leap-years.
Anyway, on Shakespeare's 446th birthday
the 394th anniversary of either his dead
and the death of Cervantes
just to wish a very special literary evening.
May my voice not put you off the realm poetry.
Well, and once again I do not care, but just repeat:
For me 365 days in any year are days of books,
and 366 in leap-years.
Anyway, on Shakespeare's 446th birthday
the 394th anniversary of either his dead
and the death of Cervantes
just to wish a very special literary evening.
May my voice not put you off the realm poetry.
Labels:
Cervantes,
literature,
Poetry,
Shakespeare
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sparrows cussing like sailors
After their hibernation since last Thursday even my muscles enjoy a glorious soreness. It's good that spring comes! Still, I am glad - and I think my muscles are, too - that I decided to cut the fruit-trees in late autumn, as shortening parts of ...
... by about 2,5-3 three metres was enough for a beginning, as - old sportsman's spirit - I don't use a motor-saw.
Cutting the jasmine I had been hesitating for five years. However, now it had to be done, although bad conscience was upon me; and not wrongly.
The longer I was busy with the jasmine, the more little visitors I got. They sat down on one of the few long branches which were left, and although I do not speak Sparrowish fluently, I knew the little fellows were cussing like sailors that, at least for a while, they will have to find another sleep-tree.
Which is why - to make up for -, immediately after my outrage, on the other side of Seanhenge I planted ...
... by about 2,5-3 three metres was enough for a beginning, as - old sportsman's spirit - I don't use a motor-saw.
Cutting the jasmine I had been hesitating for five years. However, now it had to be done, although bad conscience was upon me; and not wrongly.
The longer I was busy with the jasmine, the more little visitors I got. They sat down on one of the few long branches which were left, and although I do not speak Sparrowish fluently, I knew the little fellows were cussing like sailors that, at least for a while, they will have to find another sleep-tree.
Which is why - to make up for -, immediately after my outrage, on the other side of Seanhenge I planted ...
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Bach in the Air
Regular readers might think "Why does he post the same piece twice?"
Well, is it the same?
Enjoy, and judge yourself.
Quasi a postscriptum: What a surprise, this morning to find Bertus' comment. Coincidence? I (had) saved Ton Koopman and The Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra for tonight - as a crowning finale on Bach's 325th birthday - for almost exactly the same reasons as Bertus' described, what I could, however, never ever have explained so well. Perhaps I'd been a bit more lenient with La Mutter. Nevertheless, I do see Bertus' point, and: I do agree - the more when putting on my sarcasm hat.
Well, is it the same?
Enjoy, and judge yourself.
Quasi a postscriptum: What a surprise, this morning to find Bertus' comment. Coincidence? I (had) saved Ton Koopman and The Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra for tonight - as a crowning finale on Bach's 325th birthday - for almost exactly the same reasons as Bertus' described, what I could, however, never ever have explained so well. Perhaps I'd been a bit more lenient with La Mutter. Nevertheless, I do see Bertus' point, and: I do agree - the more when putting on my sarcasm hat.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Asking the mirror, Yoda replied
The other morning I asked:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who in the land is fairest of all?"
Spake Yoda:
"When nine hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not."
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who in the land is fairest of all?"
Spake Yoda:
"When nine hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not."
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