i've only recently come across the joyous world of ghanaian film posters. the nerdist explains
lounge (v.) to pass (time) in lounging (usually fol. by away or out): to lounge away the afternoon. 1508, from Scot., of uncertain origin, "to lounge about, lie at full length," The noun in the sense of "comfortable drawing room" is first recorded 1881; in the sense of "couch on which one can lie at full length," 1830. Lounge lizard is from 1912, originally in reference to men who hung around in tea rooms to flirt.
matrakci (spelling!) nasuh seems to me yet another of those middle eastern/central asian/ottoman types who is unjustly neglected because europeans just can't read the language. the amount of his images is limited on google bu worth a look
it's interesting, i think, to watch the approach other people have when they teach. these, which are woefully undersubscribed, are apparently for younger people - although i don't know any 'younger' people who would watch these, let alone read the source material! i also liked comparing and contrasting what he does here to how i looked at mrs dalloway, away back in the day. parallels with the classics would've been frowned upon! is there a link between that type of restricitive educational practice and the dismal politics of today? i wonder! lol
still, a nice non taxing way to start the day
what if, as the article suggests, walter benjamin's work was intended for a non-academic audience he was writing today? would he have written the work of art in the age of porn, cats and love island? acyually? likely he would!
was taken with this article about xenophobia in the nineteenth century from lapham's. ernest renan is namechecked. what is a nation still worth reading, even if the man himself, even by the standards of the day, is less than sympathetic. and also because it's difficult to imagine the presentation of such a nuanced argument by a public figure today
spanish practice with gabriela mistral
english version here
original manuscript version here
and some biographical detail here
Cuando camino se levantan
todas las cosas de la Tierra,
y se paran y cuchichean
y es su historia lo que cuentan.
Y las gentes que caminan,
en la ruta me la dejan
y la recojo de caída
en capullos que son de huellas.
Historias corren mi cuerpo
o en mi regazo ronronean.
Zumban, hierven y abejean.
Sin llamada se me vienen
y contadas tampoco me dejan.
Las que bajan por los árboles
se trenzan y se destrenzan,
y me tejen y me envuelven
hasta que el mar las ahuyenta.
Pero el mar que cuenta siempre,
más rendida, nos deja.
Los que están mascando bosque
y los que rompen la piedra,
al dormirse quieren historias.
Mujeres que buscan hijos
perdidos que no regresan
y las que se creen vivas
y no saben que están muertas,
cada noche piden historias
y yo me rindo cuenta que cuenta.
A medio camino quedo
entre ríos que no me sueltan,
y el corro se va cerrando
y me atrapan en la rueda.
Al pulgar van llegando las de animales
al índice las de muertos.
Las de niños, de ser tantas,
en las palmas me hormiguean.
Los marineros alocados
que las piden, ya no navegan,
y las que cuentan se las digo
delante de la mar abierta.
Tuve una que iba en vuelo
de albatroses y tijeretas.
Se oía el viento, se lamía
la sal del mar contenta.
La olvidé de tierra adentro
como el pez que no alimentan.
¿En dónde estará una historia
que volando en gaviota ebria
cayó a mis faldas un día
y de tan blanca me dejó ciega?
Otra mujer cuenta lejos
historia que salva y libera,
tal vez la tiene, tal vez la trae
hasta mi puerta antes que muera.
Cuando tomaba así mis brazos
el que yo tuve, todas ellas
en regato de sangre corrían
mis brazos una noche entera.
Ahora yo, vuelta al Oriente,
se las voy dando por que recuerde.
Los viejos las quieren mentidas,
los niños las piden ciertas.
Todos quieren oír la historia mía
que en mi lengua viva está muerta.
Busco alguna que la recuerde,
hoja por hoja, hebra por hebra.
Le presto mi aliento, le doy mi marcha
por si al oírla me la despierta.
this is the type of thing i went to see the other day. it was book 8 so this has more instruments in it but why not!
here's rik beato having a close look at the music for the opening shot of the shawshank redemption. was super happy, seeing as i'd been out at my monteverdi thing the other night, that i knew exactly what a basso ostinato was!
during covid there has been no culture. thus, in a couple of days i'm off to see me some monteverdi, about whom i know nothing and, it's true, i may only have chosen because it looks like there may be a theorbo in there (tho i'm willing to accept it may be an archlute). whatever, i'm off to see some actual musicians playing music
and still covid!
that said, i'm thoroughly bored with the other social media forms so i'm going to start posting back on here. not poetry or art as such (tho there'll likely be a bit of that) but mainly just stuff i've come across that i find interesting, which usually disappears into a facebook shaped void. so, with no further ado....