Happy Birthday, Johann

It’s the birthday of J.S. Bach today, composer of the music I’d take to a desert island (sonatas and partitas for solo violin) and architect of my last remaining Protestant religious experience (the St. Matthew Passion, which will get listened to this weekend).

But let’s go way back to the first Bach I or anyone else probably ever heard, the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor:

Fun music history fact: Toccata comes from the Italian toccare, “to touch,” and was essentially an improvised keyboard warm-up that got written down. And fuga is Latin for “flight.”

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Winning categories of “That’s a brilliant title” and “Wow, I’m really glad I’ve never had to think about that ” is this article about female amputees finding suitable prosthetics: “Man Hands.”

2. Here’s a dystopia generator if you need help with your novel plot: “Tired of the same old dystopias? Randomized Dystopia suggests a right that your fictional tyranny could deny its citizens!”

3. Finally, never underestimate how fun it is to put signs on things:

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Seven Years

This weeks mark seven years with the love of my life, Toby Alexander Leto D. Darling Cat Kaminski. He was so worried that day when he came home to my apartment in the Avenues, but he realized he’d be ok the next morning and from then on we’ve been best friends.

We hold hands:
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I put beds in the sunshine for him:
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And now even Doc is under his Toby Spell and is putting blankets on him while he naps:
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Seven years! I’d say Toby and I are both lucky.

Tuesday Project Planning: The Pajama Life

For years, my “around-the-house” wear has been yoga or lounge pants and a t-shirt or polarfleece, (depending on the season) and my sleepwear has been a men’s tank top and a robe in the morning. I am always tempted by pajama sets, but they seem not dressed enough for around the house and too dressed for sleeping. Yet every few years I get tempted to make a classic pajama set and try to make my life fit them. Because then wouldn’t my life look like this?

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I currently can’t find any replacement lounge pants or a summer robe I like, and there’s an indie pajama pattern out making the rounds and looking good, so I have pajamas on the brain. Maybe this is the year they’ll work?

Conversations By Text

My technophobe best friend–he of the Sunday Night Conversations–recently got an iPhone and now has taken a pro-texting stance. That means we can check in with each other all the time now and I get gems like this:

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(To be fair, I was checking in with him after he went through dental implant surgery with just local anesthesia, not general. I think I’d be saying, “We’re all animals,” in that case, too.)

Equinox Information

1. It’s the Vernal Equinox today, with a perigee (“super”) new moon and a solar eclipse over northern Europe. (Pretty sure that if we were in an adventure movie, we’d have 14 hours to find the key to the ancient treasure before the eclipse passed.)

2.The hippies are saying the astronomical goings on indicate power shifts, transformation, and resets–which, really, I’m all for. It’s spring; it’s time to come out of our chrysalis, hatch, and leaf out. And mix metaphors.

 

Spring Poem

I still feel like the winter we mostly avoided here could come back and hit us with snow in, say, May–but the Equinox is tomorrow and it’s going to be above 60 all weekend. I think a spring poem with rhythm and rhyme will work.

 

Greeting to Spring (Not Without Trepidation)

by Robert Lax

Over the back of the Florida basker,
over the froth of the Firth of Forth,
Up from Tahiti and Madagascar,
Lo, the sun walks north.

The first bright day makes sing the slackers
While leaves explode like firecrackers,
The duck flies forth to greet the spring
And sweetly municipal pigeons sing.

Where the duck quacks, where the bird sings,
We will speak of past things.

Come out with your marbles, come out with your Croup,
The grass is as green as a Girl Scout troop;
In the Mall the stone acoustics stand
Like a listening ear for the Goldman band.

At an outside table, where the sun’s bright glare is,
We will speak of darkened Paris.

Meanwhile, like attendants who hasten the hoofs
Of the ponies who trot in the shadow of roofs,
The sun, in his running, will hasten the plan
Of plants and fishes, beast and man.

We’ll turn our eyes to the sogging ground
And guess if the earth is cracked or round.

Over the plans of the parties at strife,
Over the planes in the waiting north,
Over the average man and his wife,
Lo, the sun walks forth!

Wednesday Weepies

Oh man, they are happy tears, but the chickens touching the ground for the first time and the chimps hugging really get me. Some more information and links here.

https://youtu.be/kwCrJ6OZnuY