chrysanthemum

Made a good soup today out of approximately half a bunch of rainbow chard and a package of haddock, plus water, black pepper, ginger, sesame oil, and sesame seeds, and a separate dish for soy sauce.

Card-making. There's no substituting for old-fashioned glue when working with rosepetals, but Zots and self-adhesive photo squares do make me happy.

Jean-Jacques Goldman's "C'est pas vrai". The studio version is brighter and more danceable, but there's a goofy energy to the concert vid that fascinates me. (That, and my brain's still coming to terms with how there's an entire separate galaxy of musical history and culture that's pretty much invisible to non-francophones, AFAIK. On the one hand, duh. But still, I'm a bit boggled at how, if the many performances on YouTube and DailyMotion are anything to go by, everyone in France mad keen on its equivalent of Top 40 apparently knows the lyrics of "Tous les cris les SOS" by heart -- and yet I'd never heard of Balavoine or the song until this year. (Or "Rockollection" or a number of other standards. Beyond Cabrel's classics, the only songs that have sounded even remotely familiar are "Au Bout De Mes Reves" and "Douce France.")

(Mind, I'm woefully clueless about a lot of American pop culture, so my frame of reference is off-kilter in any case.)

And then, in the realm of really goofy concert videos, there's "Et l'on n'y peut rien" (with a translation on pages 1 and 2 of comments), which starts off as a bittersweet reel -- but then veers into stepdancing with a bit of Busby Berkeley thrown in at the end.

Slashpine posted a tribute to Ingmar Bergman yesterday that included the following quote from an interview:

"I want to be one of the artists of the cathedral that rises on the plain," [Bergman] said. "I want to occupy myself by carving out of stone the head of a dragon, an angel or a demon, or perhaps a saint; it doesn’t matter; I will find the same joy in any case. Whether I am a believer or an unbeliever, Christian or pagan, I work with all the world to build a cathedral because I am artist and artisan, and because I have learned to draw faces, limbs, and bodies out of stone. I will never worry about the judgment of posterity or of my contemporaries; my name is carved nowhere and will disappear with me. But a little part of myself will survive in the anonymous and triumphant totality. A dragon or a demon, or perhaps a saint, it doesn’t matter!"

Speaking of craftsmanship: Marilyn Hacker's essay on Elizabeth Bishop's drafts. Seventeen "stages" to "One Art", y'all.

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2007-08-01 12:20 AM pleasures Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (1) Share on Facebook	Made a good soup today out of approximately half a bunch of rainbow chard and a package of haddock, plus water, black pepper, ginger, sesame oil, and sesame seeds, and a separate dish for soy sauce. Card-making. There's no substituting for old-fashioned glue when working with rosepetals, but Zots and self-adhesive photo squares do make me happy. Jean-Jacques Goldman's "C'est pas vrai". The studio version is brighter and more danceable, but there's a goofy energy to the concert vid that fascinates me. (That, and my brain's still coming to terms with how there's an entire separate galaxy of musical history and culture that's pretty much invisible to non-francophones, AFAIK. On the one hand, duh. But still, I'm a bit boggled at how, if the many performances on YouTube and DailyMotion are anything to go by, everyone in France mad keen on its equivalent of Top 40 apparently knows the lyrics of "Tous les cris les SOS" by heart -- and yet I'd never heard of Balavoine or the song until this year. (Or "Rockollection" or a number of other standards. Beyond Cabrel's classics, the only songs that have sounded even remotely familiar are "Au Bout De Mes Reves" and "Douce France.") (Mind, I'm woefully clueless about a lot of American pop culture, so my frame of reference is off-kilter in any case.) And then, in the realm of really goofy concert videos, there's "Et l'on n'y peut rien" (with a translation on pages 1 and 2 of comments), which starts off as a bittersweet reel -- but then veers into stepdancing with a bit of Busby Berkeley thrown in at the end. Slashpine posted a tribute to Ingmar Bergman yesterday that included the following quote from an interview: "I want to be one of the artists of the cathedral that rises on the plain," [Bergman] said. "I want to occupy myself by carving out of stone the head of a dragon, an angel or a demon, or perhaps a saint; it doesn’t matter; I will find the same joy in any case. Whether I am a believer or an unbeliever, Christian or pagan, I work with all the world to build a cathedral because I am artist and artisan, and because I have learned to draw faces, limbs, and bodies out of stone. I will never worry about the judgment of posterity or of my contemporaries; my name is carved nowhere and will disappear with me. But a little part of myself will survive in the anonymous and triumphant totality. A dragon or a demon, or perhaps a saint, it doesn’t matter!" Speaking of craftsmanship: Marilyn Hacker's essay on Elizabeth Bishop's drafts. Seventeen "stages" to "One Art", y'all. Read/Post Comments (1) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top
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