I was thinking just today that this particular cycle of life is probably a good time for me (and perhaps other people) to hear the Ubi Caritas daily.
Today it also played the Lux Aeterna based on Elgar's "Nimrod." I know something else is going on in my head these past few days because I had to catch myself to keep from crying over it sitting at my desk. (Normally I can listen to it and be okay, at least under normal circumstances. If I were at a funeral or watching on tv a state funeral of some leader I respected, all bets would be off then).
*I don't tend to talk politics on here but it seems to me there are an awful lot of folks out there who talk populism and the like, and then end by deciding that there's no pie out there that isn't improved by their finger being in it. (I am referring to a particular state politician specifically here. Didn't vote for the guy but I'm gonna have to deal with some of the stuff he's pushing if it gets pushed through)
(I've NEVER trusted people who present themselves as populists, though)
* On to something happier and more amusing. I know some parts of Reddit are a wretched hive of scum and villainy, but it's the source of this meme and also its backstory, so I must cite it here.
In short: a man who worked as a baker at a historical site was dealing with health inspectors because they did sell the bread to the public. The inspectors were unhappy about things like no bug zappers and the like, until the baker explained that it would spoil the historicality. Finally, the officious bureaucrats agreed to sign off on it, if they could see where the bread was stored first.
When they went into the area, there was a cow that had escaped from confinement, licking the loaves of bread. (Apparently the bakery passed anyway).
A fellow who goes by the handle Poem_for_your_Sprog composed an ode to it:
my name is Cow,
and wen its nite,
or wen the moon
is shiyning brite,
and all the men
haf gon to bed -
i stay up late.
i lik the bred.
I love that. It makes me laugh. Part of it, is to me, it almost feels vaguely Chaucerian* - the intentional misspellings like some of the Early Modern English flexible spellings of things, the meter, all of it. And yet, at the same time, I can see the influence of LOLcats on it. (I *think* it's iambic dimeter? Maybe? it's been a long time since I had to analyze meter on a poem)
Confession: I spent last evening memorizing it. Because if those blackguards at BioTechniques try calling me again? I'm going to recite the poem to them over the phone until they hang up. Maybe if I make them think I'm truly mad-in-the-British-sense (rather than simply mad in the American sense), they will stop calling me.
(*Yeah, not quite, I know Chaucer was Middle English and if he wrote a poem in the persona of a cow it would be a lot more incomprehensible to moderns)
Okay. For kicks and grins I decided to fire up the recording device on my computer. This is a windows media file so you may have to download it to hear it in the player (not all online players work with it) but here it is
Yes, it's goofy. I was trying to make it sound like a talking cow was reciting it. I don't actually talk like that - the vowels are all too drawn out and I am speaking more slowly than I normally do.
Update: My Name Is Cow, in mp3 format
* My "buy no new yarn" resolution is getting a little tougher; I really do miss being able to shop for yarn and have it come to me in the mail. Part of it is just that every day feels hard right now, both because of stuff in the news but because also there's just a lot of work to do. And I tell myself it's insanity to order more yarn when I'm not using what I have, and I so far have gone with that, but still, it's nice to expect something in the mail.
* Everything is metaphor for me sometimes. I saw this article on Atlas Obscura about a gecko species that has these pretty scales, but if you so much as touch it, the scales fall off of it, leaving a sad, pink, raw-looking, naked gecko. And wow, that speaks to me - I mean, the emotional side of me. I feel like that poor raw pink gecko some days when I go home. I can usually 'regrow my scales' overnight but not always.
and wen its nite,
or wen the moon
is shiyning brite,
and all the men
haf gon to bed -
i stay up late.
i lik the bred.
I love that. It makes me laugh. Part of it, is to me, it almost feels vaguely Chaucerian* - the intentional misspellings like some of the Early Modern English flexible spellings of things, the meter, all of it. And yet, at the same time, I can see the influence of LOLcats on it. (I *think* it's iambic dimeter? Maybe? it's been a long time since I had to analyze meter on a poem)
Confession: I spent last evening memorizing it. Because if those blackguards at BioTechniques try calling me again? I'm going to recite the poem to them over the phone until they hang up. Maybe if I make them think I'm truly mad-in-the-British-sense (rather than simply mad in the American sense), they will stop calling me.
(*Yeah, not quite, I know Chaucer was Middle English and if he wrote a poem in the persona of a cow it would be a lot more incomprehensible to moderns)
Okay. For kicks and grins I decided to fire up the recording device on my computer. This is a windows media file so you may have to download it to hear it in the player (not all online players work with it) but here it is
Yes, it's goofy. I was trying to make it sound like a talking cow was reciting it. I don't actually talk like that - the vowels are all too drawn out and I am speaking more slowly than I normally do.
Update: My Name Is Cow, in mp3 format
* My "buy no new yarn" resolution is getting a little tougher; I really do miss being able to shop for yarn and have it come to me in the mail. Part of it is just that every day feels hard right now, both because of stuff in the news but because also there's just a lot of work to do. And I tell myself it's insanity to order more yarn when I'm not using what I have, and I so far have gone with that, but still, it's nice to expect something in the mail.
* Everything is metaphor for me sometimes. I saw this article on Atlas Obscura about a gecko species that has these pretty scales, but if you so much as touch it, the scales fall off of it, leaving a sad, pink, raw-looking, naked gecko. And wow, that speaks to me - I mean, the emotional side of me. I feel like that poor raw pink gecko some days when I go home. I can usually 'regrow my scales' overnight but not always.
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