webcowgirl

I would like
to apologize
To the earthworm
I hacked in two
In my garden
Forgive me
You were so helpful
And so right under my shovel

1. Made enchiladas. Yum!
2. Tried making sangria with white wine. Yum! (It doesn't really taste like sangria but whatever.)
3. Beat wechsler and shadowdaddy decisively at Through the Desert. (I was making it up, however. I will be beaten again the next time we play.)
4. Bought tickets for two more movies in the Guy Maddin series: Archangel (Friday 18 July 2008 at 18:30, seats F5 - F6), and Brand Upon the Brain! (Tuesday 15 July 2008 at 18:20, J4 - J5, and only 5 quid). If anyone else wants to come to these shows with us, please do!
5. Tried and failed to get tickets to see Faeries, which is well on its way to selling out. I am not happy about not being able to get tickets to this show on a schedule convenient to me because the show requires that adults bring a child. What's up, if I went to this show as an adult I must be a pedophile? Is this really legal? To me it's blatant discrimination against the childless and it pisses me off.
6. Bought a second copy of a Proust book, Following Proust: Norman Churches, Cathedrals, and Paris Paintings, that I'd ordered before as a present to me from my dad.
7. Tried to get a copy of Finding Time Again, as I'm getting darned near to the end of my current book and it's become very interesting.
8. Put in some laundry, including all of the clothes the rain soaked through while in York.

Oh, also I found the program from Friday night's Emma Kirkby show, and I'm going to reprint a poem from it (though what I should be doing is writing it up for my other blog). I found it, on Independence Day, a sort of 9/11 reflection on a fallen America, but I'm now much better able to understand what they mean, in a pre-Christian era tribal society, when they are talking about someone being a widow and what that has to say about what would happen to their status in society. It was sung in German and I found it very moving. Anyway, Lamentations 1: 1, (2,) 8, (9,) 12, (20, and 21) for the original.

How desolate lies the city/ Wie liegt die Stadt so wuste
that was so full of people/ die voll Volkes war.
She is like a widow/ Sie ist wie eine Witwe.
She who was a princess among the heathen/ Die eine Furstin unter den Heiden
and a queen in the provinces / und eine Konigen in den Landern war
must now serve/ muss nun dienen.

She weeps in the night so that (Look and see!) / Sie weinet des Nachts (Schauet doch und sehet!)
tears run down her cheeks / dass ihr die Tranen uber die Wangen fliessen,
and no one among all of her lovers / und ist niemand unter allen ihren Freunden
will comfort her/ der sie troste.

All those who were close to her despise her/ Alle ihre Nachsten verachten sie
and have become her enemies / und sind ihre Feinde worden.

Anyway, from this poem to the Trojan Woman to today, the tale of being left desolate by war and death and crying to yourself hopelessly really hit me. It was really lovely listening to the three gambas and two violins of the London Baroque accompanying Emma Kirkby and baritone Peter Harvey (the "beholds" above) as they sang this song, the "Klaglied" by Buxtehude and written upon the death of his father. Sadness, it is truly something that transcends all history. Is joy not the greater surprise?

We went to the Wiltonian Music Hall in Spitalfields to see Fretwork tonight. It was a "fine" concert, not excellent - with the exception of Tan Dun's "A Sinking Love," which was excellently sung by CLare Wilkinson. She really captured the feel of spoken Chinese in a way I find hard to explain, though what I said to her was that listening to her sing this song was like watching a movie. (And what is it with Renaissance/Baroque singers doing really modern stuff? It worked, of course, but it seems so odd ...)

Afterwards we came home, ate some pizza from Mascalzone (not Hot Mamas but who is), then dinked with the computer and made plans. Me, I made some plans for my birthday, and wished bathtubgingirl happy birthday. And now, if we can find it, we're going to play Boggle.

A quick poem (from the concert), by Li Po, "In the Quiet Night."

So bright a gleam on the foot of my bed,
Could there have been a frost already?
Lifting myself to look, I found that it was moonlght.
Sinking back again, I thought suddenly of home.

When dawn was gray you went to catch the tide
leaving me waking in an empty bed
for I was loved and loved but never wed
and left alone to hope and pray and fear:
God speed you back to me, my bonny dear.

(Continued ...)