Simple Pleasures
Seven Minutes of Perfection
April 13, 2009 06:20 PM
I don’t really have anything for you today, but here
is something I like. I’ve become a bit obsessed with
this recorded 1963 Brazil concert performance of Ray
Charles since I found a few clips on You Tube. As
luck would have it, more people have been posting
other songs from the same show and it is all amazing.
But a highlight for me is this song. What I like about it, besides the fact that it is mindblowing, is how Ray is so generous with his band. Ray frequently gave show time to the talent he had gathered around him and I love how his vocals just contribute to the background here....until the end, when he lets loose.
Thanks, Ray.
And thank you, YouTube. Without YouTube, this show would likely have sat in a can for the rest of our lives.
But a highlight for me is this song. What I like about it, besides the fact that it is mindblowing, is how Ray is so generous with his band. Ray frequently gave show time to the talent he had gathered around him and I love how his vocals just contribute to the background here....until the end, when he lets loose.
Thanks, Ray.
And thank you, YouTube. Without YouTube, this show would likely have sat in a can for the rest of our lives.
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A Few Favorites
January 10, 2009 07:27 PM
And all of them from the genius of Edward Gorey.
I’m quoting these from memory, so they may be slightly misquoted.
The first born of Mrs. Keats-Shelly
Came to light with its face on its belly
The second was born
With a hump and a horn
And the third was as shapeless as jelly.
Each night father fills me with dread
As he sits at the foot of my bed
I’d mind not that he speaks
In jibbers and squeaks
But for seventeen years he’s been dead.
The sight of his guests filled Lord Cray
At breakfast with horrid dismay
So he launched off his spoons
The pits of his prunes
At their heads as they neared the buffet.
The man was a GENIUS I tells ya!
I’m quoting these from memory, so they may be slightly misquoted.
The first born of Mrs. Keats-Shelly
Came to light with its face on its belly
The second was born
With a hump and a horn
And the third was as shapeless as jelly.
Each night father fills me with dread
As he sits at the foot of my bed
I’d mind not that he speaks
In jibbers and squeaks
But for seventeen years he’s been dead.
The sight of his guests filled Lord Cray
At breakfast with horrid dismay
So he launched off his spoons
The pits of his prunes
At their heads as they neared the buffet.
The man was a GENIUS I tells ya!
The Spider
August 17, 2008 07:34 PM
Many years before he wrote Charlotte’s Web, E. B.
White wrote this poem as a love letter to his wife.
There is so much I would like to say about this poem, but I won’t dare.
I’ll be adding this to my list of things that make me happy.
The Spider (aka Natural History)
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
There is so much I would like to say about this poem, but I won’t dare.
I’ll be adding this to my list of things that make me happy.
The Spider (aka Natural History)
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
. . . . . . . . . .