tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61287699237516533402024-03-12T22:01:28.113-06:00Barry Brakebarrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.comBlogger1008125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-6304997947543848032024-02-07T22:18:00.002-06:002024-02-07T22:18:51.146-06:00pit tea<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwdxHnS8o17QcWzoTIBlH_1EyFlje4B5LBIHxWphwBDlINgTw18F0b14qmRVoBH1iSP4TFzhzdChIoMeiev1YuzP5xnkix2uxB5zNnjD3eqkL_kBIOYQST_CY-DcJRIV-hxwC9wratzjeRHmM2aXka6h8Qb9jrhBLj1LwsWNfpoW7LJLPjUtix9NC4W0v/s800/LZM032LH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="800" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwdxHnS8o17QcWzoTIBlH_1EyFlje4B5LBIHxWphwBDlINgTw18F0b14qmRVoBH1iSP4TFzhzdChIoMeiev1YuzP5xnkix2uxB5zNnjD3eqkL_kBIOYQST_CY-DcJRIV-hxwC9wratzjeRHmM2aXka6h8Qb9jrhBLj1LwsWNfpoW7LJLPjUtix9NC4W0v/w640-h404/LZM032LH.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Greta gets in the car with a styrofoam cup full of what looks like church coffee — a little weak. (Of course she's coming from a church, so that may inform my guess.)<p></p><p>Me: "What is that?"</p><p>Greta: "Pit tea."</p><p>Me: <guessing she's not saying "pity" with a Snape voice> "What is pit tea?"</p><p>Greta: "Tea made with the pits of fruits."</p><p>Me: <impressed with inventive school projects> "Is it any good?"</p><p>Greta: "Yeah, pretty good."</p><p>Me: "What all fruit pits are in it?"</p><p>Greta: "Coffee berries."</p><p>Me: *</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-18714109992970889072024-02-06T00:44:00.009-06:002024-02-06T00:44:52.742-06:00the effects of being outcast<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL2FmrXVuA46An5fWiXrio_vm2yIqwfXzj5MR2A3zP0OJvOsDRYjAppcm5k_KocoiJZfGJJEc4qZERmNRWprGfvnd8cEVmiZP_52KOb-RXCe6dQh7p306pFFqRIyNhqjZUluXE8MhTU0MY2Cmt0SVoqdd58BNzMDhae0ev24Sc96Z1D6VjPGs_St8y5U1h/s512/output.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="512" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL2FmrXVuA46An5fWiXrio_vm2yIqwfXzj5MR2A3zP0OJvOsDRYjAppcm5k_KocoiJZfGJJEc4qZERmNRWprGfvnd8cEVmiZP_52KOb-RXCe6dQh7p306pFFqRIyNhqjZUluXE8MhTU0MY2Cmt0SVoqdd58BNzMDhae0ev24Sc96Z1D6VjPGs_St8y5U1h/w640-h374/output.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>When you are shunned by a group, chemicals in your body react as if your very life is in danger. That's because for a long long time your body would have been: expulsion from a group very often meant death for much of human history.<p></p><p>Your body itself responds. We love to say "it doesn't matter what people think," and "find your <i>own</i> family and people," and YES absolutely. </p><p>But we must always remember that deep human design is still very much within us all.</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-32350261734697384592024-01-11T15:44:00.004-06:002024-01-11T15:44:38.961-06:00almond eyes<p>I've always wondered about the term "almond eyes." </p><p><br /></p><p>Big soulful eyes are often called that, but it seems to me that actual almonds don't really look like almond eyes. If there were any artist that regularly put almond eyes on faces, I'd say it's Modigliani — *those* are *actual* almond shapes.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvd3hhbNnhCauunOMzhYq5TaORgD7gKDPQyy_7CuOjZ_0Q4bWWcHoQJIwq6qFB-CrG054vDC4JcE3Ot_1QHx9wWjTp2qYaUZCjZaZn1CoTRImRdXfzEEKj8GwDemx7dxUr4furlp7SXT4blixgGSR58d8cCWoCeNzTukAZgw7MsvidLtnVkZBmQfT5MWsZ/s561/CS01-EX2022-3-24-2-High-Res-JPEG-min-300dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="561" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvd3hhbNnhCauunOMzhYq5TaORgD7gKDPQyy_7CuOjZ_0Q4bWWcHoQJIwq6qFB-CrG054vDC4JcE3Ot_1QHx9wWjTp2qYaUZCjZaZn1CoTRImRdXfzEEKj8GwDemx7dxUr4furlp7SXT4blixgGSR58d8cCWoCeNzTukAZgw7MsvidLtnVkZBmQfT5MWsZ/w640-h606/CS01-EX2022-3-24-2-High-Res-JPEG-min-300dpi.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-44410350144896707312023-12-11T18:01:00.003-06:002023-12-11T19:42:13.481-06:00the channels they are a-changin<p>When recording, you have to keep in mind the different ways people listen. Whatever you do has to sound good in cars, or on earbuds, or on a little speaker, or a great stereo, or an iPad, or a zillion other things. Most of the time, a mix that sounds great on a low-fi system will sound great on an HD system. But that's not always true going from stereo to mono, where you get phasing. </p><p>Picture what happens when you put one window screen in front of another, or one comb in front of another. Weird patterns emerge as the grids overlap and interlock. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV47MWkYCGoWXS-MrII2ao1wZaRyNGrCp7ZS97wKb3qJ_Y-KM1IvyOS9HQ4MpgehB5FFZE6x0aVTmPTWGkwzTsaYnjg1xtfarJHDdWLC6PpBFerYqtoDP2chFQ4Pjp5qdrlPOWGmxsqhz4K_H_ZcwSmiDYpX11hY9hVBoxv1gtxk47KQJrg0Z8UjtGy2nM/s581/a-The-characteristic-moire-pattern-that-emerges-when-a-blue-triangular-mesh-or-screen%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="257" data-original-width="581" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV47MWkYCGoWXS-MrII2ao1wZaRyNGrCp7ZS97wKb3qJ_Y-KM1IvyOS9HQ4MpgehB5FFZE6x0aVTmPTWGkwzTsaYnjg1xtfarJHDdWLC6PpBFerYqtoDP2chFQ4Pjp5qdrlPOWGmxsqhz4K_H_ZcwSmiDYpX11hY9hVBoxv1gtxk47KQJrg0Z8UjtGy2nM/w640-h284/a-The-characteristic-moire-pattern-that-emerges-when-a-blue-triangular-mesh-or-screen%20copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p>So, think about it: in stereo, there are two channels, left-ear and right-ear. When you overlay them, there are some parts that may react like those screen doors.</p>
<p>I was talking with an engineer about this <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> a dude who was placing mics for a small ensemble in an ORTF array (good stereo but weird and phasey if you're listening in mono) <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> and he said, "ahh well everyone listens in stereo these days, from headphones to earbuds to car stereos." That's out-of-date! Absolutely true 5 years ago, but these days lots of people (and I mean LOTS according to the stats) listen on home devices like Alexa, which is gosh-durn mono. So you gotta be able to provide rich stereo sound, but, crucially, a sound that sums to a rich, non-weird mono.</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-59604260242218123822023-11-13T12:05:00.003-06:002023-11-13T12:06:14.087-06:00good things about 'bad' english<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0W1b_eg6_kw83O1knJmzlYZ4HdADkARilg23E_5SyVTDnupTn9pNoYU3NhDp9GjAMjcTNIe8eZWbE6vTCLIUtC0JX0yhNFjPgGfOBXrXgROJChyW3JTT619XxrFeXeaqgouPLVYiVHQy43ECG6V1Hv1q-0nWeDGgPIhPZ8p4rkRmM5pvOCqOJxCBbLmcT/s463/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2011.59.50%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="463" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0W1b_eg6_kw83O1knJmzlYZ4HdADkARilg23E_5SyVTDnupTn9pNoYU3NhDp9GjAMjcTNIe8eZWbE6vTCLIUtC0JX0yhNFjPgGfOBXrXgROJChyW3JTT619XxrFeXeaqgouPLVYiVHQy43ECG6V1Hv1q-0nWeDGgPIhPZ8p4rkRmM5pvOCqOJxCBbLmcT/w640-h282/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2011.59.50%20AM.png" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://literaryreview.co.uk/the-kings-english-forgeddabouddit">Here's an article reviewing a book</a> about our prejudices against (some) non-standard Englishisms.</p>
<blockquote>
Think of intensifiers like ‘totally’, ‘pretty’ and ‘completely’. We might consciously believe them to be exaggerations undermining the speaker’s point, yet people consistently report seeing linguistic booster-users as more authoritative and likeable than others.</blockquote>
<p>Interesting! I'd like to see more data on that.</p><p>It's a good review, and this looks like an interesting book. However:</p>
<blockquote>Fridland does well to burst the bubble of mockery around Californian girls’ vocal fry (think the creaking voices of Paris Hilton and the Kardashians), unpicking the social meanings we attach to verbal patterns we find unacceptable. We tend to dislike (and believe reprehensible) what we’re not regularly exposed to. And that often happens to be the language of vulnerable communities, such as black and brown people, teenagers and women. </blockquote>
<p>... except that vocal fry is all over, and always has been. Sean Connery's James Bond famously introduced himself with Fry ... Vocal Fry. In fact, privileged English men were all vocal fry for a good several 20th-century decades. And they were <i>never</i> excoriated for it. </p><p>So either the author or the reviewer has it partially right: this really is mostly about our feelings about the people doing it. But it's not at all about what we're "not regularly exposed to." We've all been regularly exposed to vocal fry all our lives.</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-21947294630306292822023-11-12T21:31:00.005-06:002023-11-20T17:38:20.374-06:00unstable narrative<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4aszqT1-So7fsktDVkAH3XyKjxYcvmpLXLldbarGtxQ5ahyphenhyphenR4ySJqwTlG6lmEOaXd75XbqKcjXycTSWS5EtEiNGRXbF1O5_7ytJnKnixYsl_dLjBSP3fNTVHugRqVAIMDRn_VbClV-aHOyFsChbRPHRI7x5opnHN4SpsAV1Dusx-fQeyToDR9bz6T6WBE/s800/64mfdo5dlnka1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="800" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4aszqT1-So7fsktDVkAH3XyKjxYcvmpLXLldbarGtxQ5ahyphenhyphenR4ySJqwTlG6lmEOaXd75XbqKcjXycTSWS5EtEiNGRXbF1O5_7ytJnKnixYsl_dLjBSP3fNTVHugRqVAIMDRn_VbClV-aHOyFsChbRPHRI7x5opnHN4SpsAV1Dusx-fQeyToDR9bz6T6WBE/w640-h322/64mfdo5dlnka1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Check out this passage from <i>The Last Battle</i>, the final book in the Chronicles of Narnia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43zOhtTIe2lW1Qtlm2IJgcJCHXgJYefqpTWTba7gItC0RGKaBdZvWxPLN8LC8pxUxZ-c-XQD8PMzmtXj0MaU1sDXQgGBkzHrZOPGNKIjLea_ulo20Cfh6mHWqpiPT0rhzuJEUTarbaesH6klfCR2SAGOdmGieq_RINJzvZ6ihfVzsFUja8aMsJ2oBsbJg/s625/295373233_10159987137203728_375954225509748563_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="625" data-original-width="607" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43zOhtTIe2lW1Qtlm2IJgcJCHXgJYefqpTWTba7gItC0RGKaBdZvWxPLN8LC8pxUxZ-c-XQD8PMzmtXj0MaU1sDXQgGBkzHrZOPGNKIjLea_ulo20Cfh6mHWqpiPT0rhzuJEUTarbaesH6klfCR2SAGOdmGieq_RINJzvZ6ihfVzsFUja8aMsJ2oBsbJg/w622-h640/295373233_10159987137203728_375954225509748563_n.jpg" width="622" /></a></div><br />This passage is classic Lewis — seemingly effortless, elegant fantasy, an irresistible bit of magic.<div><br /><div>And then Lucy says her thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>It has always jangled against me. It's wrong, cheap. It punctures the magic for me.</div><div>But it may be a bit hard to put one's finger on this: what *exactly* is wrong here? Let's name it.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>My friend Sean says, "it smacks uncomfortably of the zealot, who is so excited about a thing that she can't discuss anything else without bringing it around to her pet topic, regardless of whether the conversation was going there organically."</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah! Like a preacher's clunky everything-yanked-into-the-Bible thing. Or a bumper sticker, suddenly thrust into a children's fantasy classic.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>This is one of the big problems with <i>Last Battle</i>. The book threatens to capsize the story with all the preaching from author to audience. A clunk like this ends up nearly breaking the promise of <i>Wardrobe</i>, with its fully-digested death/burial/resurrection. (I note in passing that Pullman's <i>His Dark Materials</i> is more of a tribute in this way than Pullman imagined.)</div><div><br /></div><div>My friend Justin says, "It’s a fourth wall break. If a movie were to adapt this literally, the actress playing Lucy would break character and turn directly to the camera to deliver the line." Yes. I tend to think of this as Lewis speaking, and not Lucy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Part of the problem here is that it's a digression.</div><div><br /></div><div>The stable that Lewis would have believed Christ's birthplace was indeed 'big' in the sense that Donne talks about with his great phrase "Immensity cloistered in [Mary's] dear womb".</div><div><br /></div><div>But that's not what's happening here. The stable in this book is more of a portal, of the sort encountered in all the Narnia books. So Lucy's comment is a drive-by. Not only it is [a] puppetry (because that's Lewis speaking), and not only is it [b] a clumsy pastor-style reach, but it's also [c] not pertinent to the situation.</div><div><br /></div><div>And on top of all that, it's [d] out-of-character for Lucy. Lewis is so careful to put all his characters' words in character. (Those who don't see Susan's <i>Last Battle</i> treatment coming need to go back and read everything she says in the previous books.) But this just doesn't fit.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>One of the great storytellers of his century. Just goes to show you, no one's perfect.</div>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-33796791613838392122023-11-09T19:14:00.003-06:002023-11-09T19:17:12.804-06:00such sweet sorrow<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUGgu3RFKJeDzkXiup-V09HSJohBwZfATdZnxt-ZmUOEJzGHmotPJJbbRiADLoZCCGzsnaAlHnE0QBpbqjEk00RhlsUKzS3lOqa9mCZtxuayOpH1tbopQqXBCiikuOAmg0ZuFfXZXlbia3a9KJ6cZSEJCpdlfttUT1nJgiEMsuEX7w86RrrLFPCQ5UIkG/s800/romeo-and-juliet-169.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="800" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUGgu3RFKJeDzkXiup-V09HSJohBwZfATdZnxt-ZmUOEJzGHmotPJJbbRiADLoZCCGzsnaAlHnE0QBpbqjEk00RhlsUKzS3lOqa9mCZtxuayOpH1tbopQqXBCiikuOAmg0ZuFfXZXlbia3a9KJ6cZSEJCpdlfttUT1nJgiEMsuEX7w86RrrLFPCQ5UIkG/w640-h328/romeo-and-juliet-169.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Clicking around a bit, I see that tons of people don't get Juliet's joke when she says "parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow."</p><p>Romeo & Juliet can't stand to leave each other, even though it's getting later and later. </p><p>They say "goodnight," but keep embracing; ... "goodnight," but still embrace; ... then, "parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow."</p><p>That is, if they keep going at this rate they're going to be saying goodnight when it's no longer night.</p><div><br /></div>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-84295716805725349402023-11-05T00:37:00.003-06:002023-11-05T00:37:17.452-06:00playing dice with the truth<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifJseXahPKWBB6VbwSHAlLmrlu7xNtsxU4LQY1G1mYU037DexNs45tZ0l9V2td6HS4igq3dFbiTFcLpDrak0tQJFJ0t_KBtT6BIVV7DH6l5hbmJkclhGCxPW_Xe01fdL1fuSIk4vzeVEcF6YiYiEcyMD4a_iaYPzGbQmTvEO_ln19U8oAjZKcOBZw7v2eg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="794" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifJseXahPKWBB6VbwSHAlLmrlu7xNtsxU4LQY1G1mYU037DexNs45tZ0l9V2td6HS4igq3dFbiTFcLpDrak0tQJFJ0t_KBtT6BIVV7DH6l5hbmJkclhGCxPW_Xe01fdL1fuSIk4vzeVEcF6YiYiEcyMD4a_iaYPzGbQmTvEO_ln19U8oAjZKcOBZw7v2eg=w640-h290" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>"God does not play dice with the universe" — famously said by Einstein. </p><p>It bears pointing out that Einstein wasn't really making a religious statement so much as he was poohing a new theory that didn't fit his preconceptions. It's a grand and ignominious tradition: throwing churchy incense at any possibility that God's world is bigger than we thought.</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-75555225360196288972023-10-16T01:35:00.001-06:002023-10-16T01:35:35.559-06:00more than a laugh <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG8NoD-3YZ_1OF6dkQrWmi1vKzw0x2hyA7AUHcpCTAVB5sjIoIFvE0gYrj82K8X4ADcEMCE1xJrPfPirYSK9DuFqA-A7JUMzdoK3mJElPPU7j8r27XdhOErExgAGZgBg5xgTkiH8a5xZNXppg0mjLiUdqayC3bB-jyZkHS_1Rqy8Zl64ZGYNbrVh8DJfgk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="600" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG8NoD-3YZ_1OF6dkQrWmi1vKzw0x2hyA7AUHcpCTAVB5sjIoIFvE0gYrj82K8X4ADcEMCE1xJrPfPirYSK9DuFqA-A7JUMzdoK3mJElPPU7j8r27XdhOErExgAGZgBg5xgTkiH8a5xZNXppg0mjLiUdqayC3bB-jyZkHS_1Rqy8Zl64ZGYNbrVh8DJfgk=w640-h336" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />The Brake brothers were sitting on the porch when we heard Suzanne Somers died. We talked about the two most important things about her: her comic talent, and her steel insistence on business fairness.<p></p><p>Everyone thinks of Ritter as the genius of the show, which was, like many of its time, unworthy of their talent. He was indeed a genius, but Somers' fizzy presence and flawless comic timing made it what it was <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> as we found out.</p><p>When contracts were up for renewal, the smash popularity of the show meant they all got raises. Ritter got well over half a million per episode in today's dollars. Per episode. Somers got one-fifth of that. She said she wanted as much as he got, and wouldn't settle for less. </p><p>The network brass held firm. (Insiders said they didn't want women to be emboldened by her example.) So she was cut. The show was never the same. They got a standard good actress to replace her; then another when she didn't last. But they weren't Suzanne. The ratings were still good but never as good.</p><p>She went on to build an entertainment empire, estranged from her co-stars. She says in his final days Ritter got in touch with her, ready to reconcile. His message: he forgave her. </p><p>Forgave <i>her</i>?! Think of how she could have responded. But she showed herself more evolved: she saw that was what he could muster, she accepted, and they ended on good terms.</p><p>I never liked the stuff she did later as well as her bubbly characterization of Chrissy. But she had, and has, my enduring respect. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG8NoD-3YZ_1OF6dkQrWmi1vKzw0x2hyA7AUHcpCTAVB5sjIoIFvE0gYrj82K8X4ADcEMCE1xJrPfPirYSK9DuFqA-A7JUMzdoK3mJElPPU7j8r27XdhOErExgAGZgBg5xgTkiH8a5xZNXppg0mjLiUdqayC3bB-jyZkHS_1Rqy8Zl64ZGYNbrVh8DJfgk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="600" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG8NoD-3YZ_1OF6dkQrWmi1vKzw0x2hyA7AUHcpCTAVB5sjIoIFvE0gYrj82K8X4ADcEMCE1xJrPfPirYSK9DuFqA-A7JUMzdoK3mJElPPU7j8r27XdhOErExgAGZgBg5xgTkiH8a5xZNXppg0mjLiUdqayC3bB-jyZkHS_1Rqy8Zl64ZGYNbrVh8DJfgk=w640-h336" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-33837987459673511712023-09-07T19:59:00.001-06:002023-09-07T19:59:38.990-06:0040 years of a musical friendship<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgocmJO_l81cOlol_-kFqlrZousq40ksejhSKjj6IFQ98cS9G5ZRwmYfFGPO8-i2SJP67Y9P-80f4XrJKdNEYq-4YPU9qlhjRl4p3oFTdED5pZHkfNJZ9IwNCk1n8asDPhphgz3sGaQuj10BUguVoJxEha8v563VPo5EzCB9h6eRZPsFRVOEWZTuXMqBHwk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="1168" height="571" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgocmJO_l81cOlol_-kFqlrZousq40ksejhSKjj6IFQ98cS9G5ZRwmYfFGPO8-i2SJP67Y9P-80f4XrJKdNEYq-4YPU9qlhjRl4p3oFTdED5pZHkfNJZ9IwNCk1n8asDPhphgz3sGaQuj10BUguVoJxEha8v563VPo5EzCB9h6eRZPsFRVOEWZTuXMqBHwk=w640-h571" width="640" /></a></div><p>40 years ago today, I met Darren Kuper in a music theory class. My life has not been the same. He was reading a <i>Guitar World</i> magazine; we struck up a conversation. Only about a month later, we began making music together, and we've been making music together ever since.</p><p></p><p>We've also had prodigious amounts of coffee together, quite a bit of Scotch, and our fair share of champagne, plus a zillion laughs, a radio show, parties, weddings, and three-quarters of a lifetime of companionship in the deepest sense of the term. </p><p>40 years! </p><p><br />Darren, you're a true gentleman, a great drummer, and a good friend.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgd_EdHSSAZ72lGfgiKOrzf3ANC7dbCdJMjebsPGZn2n-3eEJ3ISPL8QpUwilwUiZPHuHzQPCBdtVuwYFe_0cvIZJQkNEc_y4f8od16GjfmFrcfSVVd84B09O7FCvQ17NU4c-cb6yLyT5VgcufZKP3AKFD5BqATa9bHG2OKYvZsMtEB8D-GYWxgtUcZlkix" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="959" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgd_EdHSSAZ72lGfgiKOrzf3ANC7dbCdJMjebsPGZn2n-3eEJ3ISPL8QpUwilwUiZPHuHzQPCBdtVuwYFe_0cvIZJQkNEc_y4f8od16GjfmFrcfSVVd84B09O7FCvQ17NU4c-cb6yLyT5VgcufZKP3AKFD5BqATa9bHG2OKYvZsMtEB8D-GYWxgtUcZlkix=w640-h390" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-62605364204301856462023-09-06T23:55:00.011-06:002023-09-07T00:01:49.934-06:00the buddy-pass era<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXAMsA7LyUHAt38LMonJ58lxxjefU0yRCp8R9xhMm5IU2toAq6ql4Olqr6rYegkWssS1kx-_v3xhySWsEliKf328-Z2IYXa5_ir65Lw04SDg5_YRLUu0o-KQpqOVK5snFQRZZmi228QZuRdV5_QB-HN_Oxqwseeztihi9iaYAMfbBnoZhYyX99gHEF1RmZ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXAMsA7LyUHAt38LMonJ58lxxjefU0yRCp8R9xhMm5IU2toAq6ql4Olqr6rYegkWssS1kx-_v3xhySWsEliKf328-Z2IYXa5_ir65Lw04SDg5_YRLUu0o-KQpqOVK5snFQRZZmi228QZuRdV5_QB-HN_Oxqwseeztihi9iaYAMfbBnoZhYyX99gHEF1RmZ=w640-h266" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I was reminded that on this date in 2011 I was gigging in Alaska. Singer Ken Slavin had gotten a week of gigs there and brought me along in my usual role of pianist and musical director. </p><p>Now, some gigs pay for the whole thing, including airfare and hotel. Others just pay for the gig and you have to swing the travel. If the gig pays enough, then it's as if airfare and hotel are paid after all, and all's well. But back then I also had the buddy pass.</p><p>My brother flew for an airline. Still does. Part of his compensation was that every year he got a handful of passes that anyone could use, if they just paid the airport fee and were willing to fly standby, based on the seniority of the pilot in question. So, when Paul was first starting out, I got less seniority, and that rose as time passed. </p><p>It was a great way to travel if you had an open schedule. As a composer, I did. If you need to be get there on a schedule, or (more often) need to be back home on a schedule, not so much. I ended up using so many of those passes precisely because there were so few in my brother's circle for whom that would work. There were several years there where at least a pass or two went unused. </p><p>So that Alaska trip paid pretty darn well, partially because I didn't have to pay more than airport fees to get there.</p><p>12 years ago!</p><p> . . . and that was the last buddy-pass flight I took. By 2011, it had already been getting iffy, because the airlines were tightening up their slack. Very few flights where you had even an extra seat available. But this hit right at the wrong season for Alaska, when seasonal workers were flocking to the lower 48.</p><p>After a wonderful week wining and dining and living the high life and gigging and swinging for appreciative audiences, I spent 4 days in Alaska airports, sleeping on chairs, at one point driving across the state to Fairbanks because they had 3 extra seats on the next day's flight <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> only for them to be taken by the time I got there.</p><p>(Upside: a spectacular early-morning drive on a perfect day through one of the last great wildernesses!)</p><p>In Fairbanks, I was nearly crying from exhaustion and deprivation. Somehow I got a friend to get in touch with an old colleague who dropped everything, came and got me at the airport, and let me nap in a real bed for 3 hours. Ahhh!</p><p>Finally, I paid out the nose for a trip to Seattle, halfway to SA. Then waited even more, and buddy-passed to SA. That did it. I'd buddy-passed for the last time.</p><p>Interesting! I'd had a conversation just this week about how you put your kid down and then never pick her up again; you return a Blockbuster movie and never check out another; who knows when's the last time? Then this thing came up.</p><p>That season of life, from the late 90s to the early teens, carried me around the world [mostly] in style, to some of the most vivid travel experiences of my life, then carried Catherine and me together on several splendid anniversary trips and more.</p><p>It really was like getting another college education. Thanks to Paul for landing such a great gig and sharing his passes so readily.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheV0LqzKMJukqbxIqipdbcCWvpjteLAvLqZjWQ984qG7uF7G2bLEyEvrfK2dDj9WByJkFOsUiMzeoC7uzIJtAqh-WGOE9GWDHW5CyjtNomdTyk4_2k6LqPmpEJyJf70aMke-hMOHvUeNAFgJGYMWjxfullDfo29pY9oX-_jwlzllx64TzvtB77TiuwkpSY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="800" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheV0LqzKMJukqbxIqipdbcCWvpjteLAvLqZjWQ984qG7uF7G2bLEyEvrfK2dDj9WByJkFOsUiMzeoC7uzIJtAqh-WGOE9GWDHW5CyjtNomdTyk4_2k6LqPmpEJyJf70aMke-hMOHvUeNAFgJGYMWjxfullDfo29pY9oX-_jwlzllx64TzvtB77TiuwkpSY=w640-h282" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-10831437185193936942023-09-02T18:39:00.006-06:002023-11-20T17:33:34.550-06:00czars and tsars <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhltaAEYfxvOeTIWXEuWeTBkkt_2aRh0e_pNRrlRHcg3Vf-4V3aeRr4qDHGcYVlfRjmbIZLhP2voomu70950Vg5gfo2Bz9JeiZ8tzu0ZlhO9Vwd3oXLGX4aTwwll6H1DiNIvkvwWsAkm1zhss3aD1gYNKP5rr4YRrjutvu5KBucp1yY7T7TXrApMO5e2scG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="780" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhltaAEYfxvOeTIWXEuWeTBkkt_2aRh0e_pNRrlRHcg3Vf-4V3aeRr4qDHGcYVlfRjmbIZLhP2voomu70950Vg5gfo2Bz9JeiZ8tzu0ZlhO9Vwd3oXLGX4aTwwll6H1DiNIvkvwWsAkm1zhss3aD1gYNKP5rr4YRrjutvu5KBucp1yY7T7TXrApMO5e2scG=w640-h286" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">I'm reading an article that calls the old kings of Russia "Tsars" instead of "Czars." Most news outlets use the T </span><span style="letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: left;">—–</span><span style="text-align: left;"> unless they're referring to some person in gov or biz with extra powers, in which case it's the "______ czar". But for Russian royalty, it's almost always Tsar. Colloquially, I find many educated people use the C in referring to, say, Nicholas.</span></div><p>The C spelling reminds us that Russia sees itself as the inheritor of the Roman Empire. There are probably 3 Russian dudes alive right now who have a validish claim to be current Roman Emperor: "Caesar." In the West, of course, Germany-as-Holy Roman Empire had its Kaisers for the same reason. </p><p>Remember, Julius and Augustus would not have said "see-zer"; they would have said "kah-eh-zahr" (sorta rhymes with "sky-car"). Time passes; other languages pick it up, and it starts morphing. </p><p>The C/K became the T in prehistoric Slavic: "*tsesar." By the time we get to modern Russia, its Cyrillic script gives us "<big>царь</big>," which we would definitely transliterate with a T rather than a C.</p><p>In historical chronology, the C comes first; in Russian language history, the T comes first. Using C for "czar" is a way of reconnecting "tsar" to Julius and Augustus <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> or, better, to Constantine and Arcadius. That Latin-script spelling first appears in the 1500s. </p><p>So, now you know about Czar and Tsar.</p><p>You'll mostly see "Tsar Nicholas", but sometimes you'll see "Czar Nicholas." You'll see "Iowa's education czar," but you'll nearly-never see "Iowa's education tsar."</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXlP6j2-7LRItkTuleF8f3a9BfOANxLbQEclKar1268rpt4NVbgzMOAbg1XZCqmhnPQCOmma4wM0YziKdIO3gA3zrJgMj5rIPLRrm_oATAyxT_80lHuqGV3aBl7FVgMfpDcEZONWmTA4DVorrIBngO_HOjvfngwtEtFDr9k5DAM29lNCFi0Eyx7lY11tTl" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="800" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXlP6j2-7LRItkTuleF8f3a9BfOANxLbQEclKar1268rpt4NVbgzMOAbg1XZCqmhnPQCOmma4wM0YziKdIO3gA3zrJgMj5rIPLRrm_oATAyxT_80lHuqGV3aBl7FVgMfpDcEZONWmTA4DVorrIBngO_HOjvfngwtEtFDr9k5DAM29lNCFi0Eyx7lY11tTl=w640-h370" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-27556257942919626892023-05-29T12:24:00.003-06:002023-09-08T00:11:51.804-06:00a memorial salute 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzl6RXwbhHNGcwrZhp8wEjoq3qYsPHl_m-fEjNbwo8nO9IiOm_6Nv61hJMrLdnCGd20O2rGIeZpxa73R1E8MhF3MXg41rUNl3TT0xo5sMMWGhFE-uyLY6ILYj31sPYMY0L33E4d4immkLOz2VOUjKaTb3ahpr-7coitupFiDNJ9Xefr9uoMErMCyCoeg/s960/348462578_273479935121271_3314407860197818947_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzl6RXwbhHNGcwrZhp8wEjoq3qYsPHl_m-fEjNbwo8nO9IiOm_6Nv61hJMrLdnCGd20O2rGIeZpxa73R1E8MhF3MXg41rUNl3TT0xo5sMMWGhFE-uyLY6ILYj31sPYMY0L33E4d4immkLOz2VOUjKaTb3ahpr-7coitupFiDNJ9Xefr9uoMErMCyCoeg/w640-h360/348462578_273479935121271_3314407860197818947_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>You I'm thinking of today, you gave your life in serving your country. You signed on the line, you went overseas, you went over land, you sweated and toiled and suffered, and you died. </p><p>We rhapsodize about your bravery, and many were brave, but you weren't. We sing of your noble sacrificial spirit, but that spirit wasn't in you. </p><p>Some of you were defending our country and the cause of freedom, but didn't know it or didn't admit it. You wrongly thought it was all for nothing, or you wondered whether it was fruitless. Some of you rightly saw that you were sent to do someone's bidding that had very little to do with freedom, ours or others'. No matter: whether you really were or really weren't serving for a noble cause, you didn't think you were, or didn't see it, or didn't care. </p><p>And still you went. You could have dodged but you served.</p><p>So, for all the un-brave, un-dedicated, un-selfless, reluctant, grudging soldiers who now lay in the earth, we who remain must remember you, un-erase you, know you, and thank you. We owe you that. You may never have been saluted in life by anyone who knew your heart. Today let us, at last, salute you.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzl6RXwbhHNGcwrZhp8wEjoq3qYsPHl_m-fEjNbwo8nO9IiOm_6Nv61hJMrLdnCGd20O2rGIeZpxa73R1E8MhF3MXg41rUNl3TT0xo5sMMWGhFE-uyLY6ILYj31sPYMY0L33E4d4immkLOz2VOUjKaTb3ahpr-7coitupFiDNJ9Xefr9uoMErMCyCoeg/s960/348462578_273479935121271_3314407860197818947_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzl6RXwbhHNGcwrZhp8wEjoq3qYsPHl_m-fEjNbwo8nO9IiOm_6Nv61hJMrLdnCGd20O2rGIeZpxa73R1E8MhF3MXg41rUNl3TT0xo5sMMWGhFE-uyLY6ILYj31sPYMY0L33E4d4immkLOz2VOUjKaTb3ahpr-7coitupFiDNJ9Xefr9uoMErMCyCoeg/w640-h360/348462578_273479935121271_3314407860197818947_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-86554420862852195542023-05-17T18:26:00.003-06:002023-05-18T16:24:27.281-06:00ancestral voices! kubla detangled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBsNy1uoOnWl2chBbfKSTuAKbjtYeZpQnyRgkEnUeUrlbKy3BnEWHkZgxtsjJlR1ctEtsb0QUvbvLANmvIsAiqTY82ma91N9TtgGHI9_s9K5e_oPOmlwOp72QcH0YO-HEohUFeG07OgaI3qWqeNfaheKFfzVWjp_AQkBEdQXTYS27MrCalXgRSx_GJ5g/s800/%20daily-kubla-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="800" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBsNy1uoOnWl2chBbfKSTuAKbjtYeZpQnyRgkEnUeUrlbKy3BnEWHkZgxtsjJlR1ctEtsb0QUvbvLANmvIsAiqTY82ma91N9TtgGHI9_s9K5e_oPOmlwOp72QcH0YO-HEohUFeG07OgaI3qWqeNfaheKFfzVWjp_AQkBEdQXTYS27MrCalXgRSx_GJ5g/w640-h310/%20daily-kubla-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div>English comes from the Germanic family of languages. Our 200 most-used words, making up most of what you and I say every day, are all from German. We spend our lives talking about beds and kitchens and kids. Then we sprinkle in all those other words from other languages: Greek (school), Italian (spaghetti), Latin (faith), Narragansett (squash), and so on. If Germanic words are the bread and spread, much of the meat and cheese and tomato comes from those other languages. <div><br /></div><div>One of the biggies is the stream of words that came across with William the Conqueror. Before 1066, English was mainly Anglo-Saxon; after, it had lots of French, and all those words that filtered through French from Latin. (I've spoken about this before, <a href="https://barrybrake.blogspot.com/2020/04/words-of-guard-sorry-corrections-officer.html">here</a>, <a href="https://barrybrake.blogspot.com/2005/09/fun-from-before-1066.html">here</a>, and <a href="https://barrybrake.blogspot.com/2005/09/1066-continued.html">here</a>.)<div><br /></div><div>Over thirty years ago, in a grad linguistics seminar, our superb professor, Dr. Bridget Drinka, gave us an assignment: take a passage and make all the key words (the meat and cheese and tomato) all Germanic, and then all Latin-French. </div><div><br /></div><div>The result is kind of like those pictures where you double the left side of your face, then double the right side. Both look just like you, but with one quality emphasized. Superpassive/superaggressive! Superpleasant/superangry! Supersomething/superotherthing! Then when you go back to the original, you see how our tributary languages all work together so well to express what needs expressing.</div><div><br /></div><div>My choice? The final magical lines of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "Kubla Khan." I wish I could go back and find the original assignment. It exists somewhere, on floppy disk. But I re-did it now, maybe with a thirty-year advantage. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'll give it to you first in Germanic-derived English.<br /><div><font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif"><p style="line-height: 130%;">
A maiden with a harp<br />
In a dream once I saw:<br />
It was an Abyssinian maid<br />
And on her harp she played,<br />
Singing of Abora Peak.<br />
Could I bring back within me<br />
Her saga and her song,<br />
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,<br />
That with string struck loud and long,<br />
I would build that hall aloft,<br />
That sunny hall! those dens of ice!<br />
And all who heard should see them there,<br />
And all should shout, Beware! Beware!<br />
His sparking eyes, his rising hair!<br />
Weave a ring about him thrice,<br />
And shut your eyes with holy dread<br />
For he on honey-dew hath fed,<br />And drunk the milk of Heaven.</p>
</font>
<p><br /></p><p>Now French-derived, post-1066-only English.<font color="#bbbbff"></font></p><p style="line-height: 130%;"><font color="#bbbbff">
A damsel with a dulcimer<br />
In a vision once I spied:<br />
It was an Abyssinian dame<br />
And on her dulcimer she plucked,<br />
Chanting of Mount Abora.<br />
Could I revive within me<br />
Her symphony and strain,<br />
Such intense elation it would create,<br />
That with music powerfully grand,<br />
I would form that dome in air,<br />
That brilliant dome! those glacial caves!<br />
The audience would espy them there,<br />
And all should cry, On guard! On guard!<br />
His flashing eyes, his floating tresses!<br />
Pace a triple circle round,<br />
And close your eyes with pious terror<br />
For he has dined on ambrosia,<br />
And imbibed the nectar of Paradise.
</font></p><font color="#bbbbff">
</font>
<p><br /></p><p> And now, the original. Note how he uses each family of words <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> maybe intentionally but probably by instinct <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> to marry Saxon spookiness with French/Latin mystery.</p><p style="line-height: 130%;">
A <font color="#bbbbff"><i>damsel</i></font> with a <font color="#bbbbff"><i>dulcimer</i></font><br />
In a <font color="#bbbbff"><i>vision</i></font> once I <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">saw</font>:<br />
It was an Abyssinian <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">maid</font><br />
And on her <font color="#bbbbff"><i>dulcimer</i></font> she <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">played</font>,<br />
<font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">Singing</font> of <font color="#bbbbff"><i>Mount</i></font> Abora.<br />
Could I <font color="#bbbbff"><i>revive</i></font> within me<br />
Her <font color="#bbbbff"><i>symphony</i></font> and <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">song</font>,<br />
To such a <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">deep delight</font> 'twould <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">win</font> me,<br />
That with <font color="#bbbbff"><i>music</i></font> <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">loud</font> and <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">long</font>,<br />
I would <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">build</font> that <font color="#bbbbff"><i>dome</i></font> in air,<br />
That <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">sunny</font> <font color="#bbbbff"><i>dome</i></font>! those <font color="#bbbbff"><i>caves</i></font> of <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">ice</font>!<br />
And all who <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">heard</font> should <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">see</font> them there,<br />
And all should <font color="#bbbbff"><i>cry</i></font>, <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">Beware! Beware!</font><br />
His <font color="#bbbbff"><i>flashing</i></font> eyes, his <font color="#bbbbff"><i>floating</i></font> <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">hair</font>!<br />
<font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">Weave</font> a <font color="#bbbbff"><i>circle</i></font> round him <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">thrice</font>,<br />
And <font color="#bbbbff"><i>close</i></font> your eyes with <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">holy dread</font><br />
For he on <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">honey-dew</font> hath <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">fed</font>,<br />
And <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">drunk</font> the <font color="#ffbbbb" face="sans-serif">milk</font> of <font color="#bbbbff"><i>Paradise</i></font>.
</p><p>
</p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vH3ragOD_V_FwHyiT0eoCCAkRNJeayDFb-WzggaxSvZdmjgolENJJX5T7R7qKtnrY1u6WPc7TNRfpHsJRI5M-JBfQG2TVceSOi7KyilcTwoql1h-O4rU1zG9VJ8DrxxETYsSFxDN-d7Tnox8J46mqGdvH0Dwc4EtU_KZO2ok3tkbDfJJZqs4H8zN8w/s800/%20daily-kubla-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="800" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vH3ragOD_V_FwHyiT0eoCCAkRNJeayDFb-WzggaxSvZdmjgolENJJX5T7R7qKtnrY1u6WPc7TNRfpHsJRI5M-JBfQG2TVceSOi7KyilcTwoql1h-O4rU1zG9VJ8DrxxETYsSFxDN-d7Tnox8J46mqGdvH0Dwc4EtU_KZO2ok3tkbDfJJZqs4H8zN8w/w400-h286/%20daily-kubla-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</p><p> </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p></div></div></div></div>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-69524966843831857132023-05-15T00:15:00.002-06:002023-05-15T00:15:12.969-06:00the changing canon<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNS3y4OJVmqmzVnsKG6Mtif7ZqUSbcc28qhoJWhVNOWu6HXei3fxmEuGc1E_SYBYQ0n2kpSp3BMTXIPn0dYeeik0EwQeLumXfvWhLVlGr35g8EDmjVEU206IguPrtW21JWYFDfgVLtZpHYhpJT-BFlYJkjMZ5WggfB_B0eTP09D6oePQwDGIoAEuwU0Q/s640/280503873_10159847683833728_840808772622302318_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="506" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNS3y4OJVmqmzVnsKG6Mtif7ZqUSbcc28qhoJWhVNOWu6HXei3fxmEuGc1E_SYBYQ0n2kpSp3BMTXIPn0dYeeik0EwQeLumXfvWhLVlGr35g8EDmjVEU206IguPrtW21JWYFDfgVLtZpHYhpJT-BFlYJkjMZ5WggfB_B0eTP09D6oePQwDGIoAEuwU0Q/w506-h640/280503873_10159847683833728_840808772622302318_n.jpg" width="506" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Just look at that picture. Machu Picchu now, and back in 1915. We think of it as essential world knowledge. Back then, completely ignored. </p><p>History isn't static!!</p><p>*No* writer in 1915 was influenced by <i>Moby-Dick</i>, or had likely even read it.</p><p>Very few history and literature classes now extensively cover the Maya or the Aztecs. Maya histories have only been decoded in the last decade. As for the Aztecs, there's more ancient Nahuatl literature than ancient Latin or Greek combined. It's all just sitting there waiting for us to honor it and think about it.</p><p>100 years from now this stuff may be considered essential knowledge.</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-89882931916334962742023-03-24T15:43:00.000-06:002023-03-24T15:43:00.849-06:00interpreting charitably<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQ61ToQq0EYAiwWZSY1LW41KbIVZZZ4OS6ZK3kVk6t8XDqijiwC2_IoLSiUNpKcPVtLub_ImTOK8ILZUADpX7CF-uU8lmeby7VkYPOp3Z7LMfliPOhtdCS37IdIhzRaWMuZzdFzzl727iP7CQ2IoJwMj7DKW4AbO6OLeXORtDpEfLq1GXHFMDtzUj1g/s753/henderson%20charitable%20interpretation%20golden%20rule%20quote.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="753" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQ61ToQq0EYAiwWZSY1LW41KbIVZZZ4OS6ZK3kVk6t8XDqijiwC2_IoLSiUNpKcPVtLub_ImTOK8ILZUADpX7CF-uU8lmeby7VkYPOp3Z7LMfliPOhtdCS37IdIhzRaWMuZzdFzzl727iP7CQ2IoJwMj7DKW4AbO6OLeXORtDpEfLq1GXHFMDtzUj1g/w640-h526/henderson%20charitable%20interpretation%20golden%20rule%20quote.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /> Philosopher David Henderson nails it here. Right? It's not a matter of optimism or pessimism, naivete or hardbittenness. It's about one's moral duty.<p></p><p><br /></p><p>A friend and I were discussing the seeming shift toward thinking the worst of people lately. Human nature hasn't changed, but 50 years ago there were financial incentives to appeal to the greatest number of people, and so that meant finding the thing that the most people could agree on.</p><p>So, in discussing race, the show "MASH" would have an episode about a wounded young black soldier fighting for his country and needing a blood infusion: it's a slam dunk. Very *very* few people in America at that time would deep-down say he shouldn't get it.</p><p>Fast forward to today, where there are financial incentives to appeal to the few people who will totally connect with you, and so that means finding the thing that those people get most fired up about, no matter what everyone else thinks.</p><p>So, in discussing race, a show or podcast will have an episode about how "woke" people hate America; another will have an episode about how "un-woke" people hate America. Very few people (compared to MASH's audience) will even hear or see it, much less agree — but those people provide enough revenue.</p><p>And that's just a readily-available political thing. But it applies everywhere. Dating and match sites have long known that a modern-day Christie Brinkley actually does *not* get as much activity as a modern-day Joan Jett would. Same thing going on.</p><div><br /></div>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-90328637091514659652023-02-16T03:16:00.001-06:002023-02-16T03:16:57.183-06:00things i did in 22<div align="center">
<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/
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<br />
<br />Every year near Valentine's Day I send out a digest of the previous year. It's a good way to sift through all the stuff that life throws at you, and find what's worth commenting on.<br />
<br />
Now comes the fun part, where friends old and new get back in touch and fill me in on all the stuff that somehow escapes the radar of Facebook.<br />
<br />
<big><a href="http://www.barrybrake.com/things22.html" target="_blank">Read it</a></big>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-43805084258207150722023-02-08T21:34:00.002-06:002023-02-08T21:34:16.784-06:00a chemo memory<p>On or around this day in 2003, I went into my parents' house at about 6am to get ready to have them take me to my third or fourth day of chemotherapy. </p><p>I was unsure whether they'd be awake yet, so I just let myself in. The lights were on, but I didn't see them anywhere. I approached their bedroom. I heard an unmistakable and rare sound: my dad sobbing. He was saying, over and over, "My son! My son!" </p><p>I've never told them or anyone that I overheard that. But it's stuck with me all these years.</p><p>How hard it must be, to see these things unfold beyond one's control! I've often thought my cancer was harder on those around me than it was on me — when it's happening to you, you tend to have a certain let's-get-through-this focus. </p><p>Twenty years, surrounded by love like this.</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-16572253017309662622023-02-01T12:49:00.002-06:002023-02-01T12:49:07.657-06:00a 20-year anniversary<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeZ29huTf9fNHoI5rvAKuSFlyAqFFRXocx-0NxN1HtU54jJCjAAqGgLnmAezuxm0KoDw7Z34kdELZonpdluwkhIez9qxIdOhpF59q0RLjB6BZA-iY6kfwjj9rxQ0wcqk-z0gxfGlacsznvL-ROTbyUTn_9Frp3I9v6jmx9hRz02hyu-YZivU51tVNcw/s1240/Untitled%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="826" data-original-width="1240" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeZ29huTf9fNHoI5rvAKuSFlyAqFFRXocx-0NxN1HtU54jJCjAAqGgLnmAezuxm0KoDw7Z34kdELZonpdluwkhIez9qxIdOhpF59q0RLjB6BZA-iY6kfwjj9rxQ0wcqk-z0gxfGlacsznvL-ROTbyUTn_9Frp3I9v6jmx9hRz02hyu-YZivU51tVNcw/w640-h426/Untitled%20copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p><b>February 1, 2003 </b></p><p>I'd just completed my first round of chemotherapy. 5 days in a row, 5 hours every day, of cisplatin, etoposide, and bleomycin.</p><p>That was 20 years ago today.</p><p>In those twenty years, I've married my one true love, traveled the world, made music of all kinds, and fathered two children. </p><p>To life!</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-51320106611054424542022-12-19T23:14:00.001-06:002022-12-19T23:14:00.176-06:00ties and comfort<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvD7gNNIyhnAWOjJs-kzl72RoiqNeUuqLXwQj9wFKj3Is1U7y1KcYjSs2Vc9ds_7t6NQPo_B66ihswnZLqhUrmy4-ugZQvgyh3URjmAqFB9hvnqrguh7MBYsSCF1qJre4UeU4emQl78C7nHd8iNGYEA2rL1BlAt3Z4C3iGA8v-TgRO69XCRsIfu3JFMg/s2048/318305592_10160294531128728_129784325007589806_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvD7gNNIyhnAWOjJs-kzl72RoiqNeUuqLXwQj9wFKj3Is1U7y1KcYjSs2Vc9ds_7t6NQPo_B66ihswnZLqhUrmy4-ugZQvgyh3URjmAqFB9hvnqrguh7MBYsSCF1qJre4UeU4emQl78C7nHd8iNGYEA2rL1BlAt3Z4C3iGA8v-TgRO69XCRsIfu3JFMg/w640-h360/318305592_10160294531128728_129784325007589806_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I continue to be baffled when a man finds ties uncomfortable. In talking further about it, it usually comes out that what's uncomfortable is the <i>shirt</i> rather than the tie. It's just that usually men wear shirts without buttoning the top button. Putting the tie around it makes little difference.<p></p><p>So then the thing to do is get a shirt that fits comfortably, not too loose or tight, just right.</p><p>To me, in the right shirt, wearing a tie just feels right, to the extent that I don't feel quite right without one.</p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-45219592646502169562022-12-16T23:07:00.007-06:002022-12-16T23:07:44.196-06:00a beatles-stones paradox<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVKI8G2YpHd25o2MxqZJcDROPWpGrDZd25kr-Gjrn1o964wT8aneeLy4HT2r3uwx8_tYER15_nh3juhq1t-kJ_i16I6ViXwPTsj7vDk4GA0PHV2wJuDjojCZ975d9H5TxEJlWkRMAOUcH7LanfxKjAq2HxKDlRoMBgWinsfMlVoGBgP3iSIrnOUzK1g/s570/stones1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="570" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVKI8G2YpHd25o2MxqZJcDROPWpGrDZd25kr-Gjrn1o964wT8aneeLy4HT2r3uwx8_tYER15_nh3juhq1t-kJ_i16I6ViXwPTsj7vDk4GA0PHV2wJuDjojCZ975d9H5TxEJlWkRMAOUcH7LanfxKjAq2HxKDlRoMBgWinsfMlVoGBgP3iSIrnOUzK1g/w640-h454/stones1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Try this on: the Beatles take themselves more seriously than the Stones; also, the Beatles themselves less seriously than the Stones.<p></p><p>Think about it: the Stones remain "just" a rock-n-roll band, years after the Beatles are into studio twiddling and string quartets and the Human Condition. </p><p>Also, the Beatles do vauxhall pastiche, and whimsical whimsy, all while the Stones are straight-no-chaser. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7Zxa5jSic4STXYIYI7AQ5FwHwf3-J6hSwBBju6swfAesuFvInpy6J0rKrcjhGYlWZtQEqCVdagaP_pus9Bm91dDTbYPF4UO2cf-UY3jfdDbz5gcXgK5ssk-FAWOs9qXi7cgB7FvsUP1OwwHE51B6GgOzCcFVs0fXHqs9odzraN--sD5AfGuKHvsHFQ/s410/stones2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="410" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7Zxa5jSic4STXYIYI7AQ5FwHwf3-J6hSwBBju6swfAesuFvInpy6J0rKrcjhGYlWZtQEqCVdagaP_pus9Bm91dDTbYPF4UO2cf-UY3jfdDbz5gcXgK5ssk-FAWOs9qXi7cgB7FvsUP1OwwHE51B6GgOzCcFVs0fXHqs9odzraN--sD5AfGuKHvsHFQ/w640-h460/stones2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-88417075885670473452022-11-19T16:08:00.008-06:002022-11-19T16:12:21.125-06:00one tiny voice - a new christmas carol<!-- <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://youtu.be/5tJjb73YYN0"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="1074" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs73CO1DhVAFCFFPZSR9iYFFdQfCIiExX0AKPEy_CI1wWic3oEaJaPs092YrCm_dWa-KWwBI1TrpEmU-CTGMlalGxyDk2vxtIKfm86gQkTJQkPqM4061ak8KtQu1v2DffmyN8wzN38yt0DKCOJ7438v84xfKfHObrZp5ONeeA_-4o1KkNlPExDQln9jg/w640-h360/thumb.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><a href="https://youtu.be/5tJjb73YYN0"> </a><p></p> -->
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5tJjb73YYN0" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-6863815214431391422022-09-15T18:16:00.006-06:002022-09-15T18:16:53.640-06:00pretenso<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzWrQbdmylYfasJAqaOPSvqG7yH1viV4lHkQekXHrnvmpFGpL3lW6ojEcjLk_EH8SHI9Njp5HPvWE3SfWfHWU8FG1hzWLPdy1CAB-18DIZ2oAHNDR8qEBmpa6ar9KiPPzZPRGDuXt_7FGDR759ybTijKI_wpg1iI7a_Ygz0yVPmXrwLLinhvtojiLGDA/s759/cello-663563_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="759" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzWrQbdmylYfasJAqaOPSvqG7yH1viV4lHkQekXHrnvmpFGpL3lW6ojEcjLk_EH8SHI9Njp5HPvWE3SfWfHWU8FG1hzWLPdy1CAB-18DIZ2oAHNDR8qEBmpa6ar9KiPPzZPRGDuXt_7FGDR759ybTijKI_wpg1iI7a_Ygz0yVPmXrwLLinhvtojiLGDA/w640-h382/cello-663563_1280.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>In school orchestra I had a conductor who consistently called the cellos the "celli." At one point he referred to some composer's "celli concerti," which gave it all away. Right? Those were pieces for solo cello and orchestra, not for groups of cellists playing with an orchestra. So if he's gonna be all Mr Correcto he would have said "cello concerti."</p><p>Or he could realize that those are English words now, and use an s.</p><p>(Did he say violino and violini? No, he did not.)</p><br />barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-6809477881783719772022-09-09T16:09:00.006-06:002022-09-09T19:43:23.702-06:00how a king sounds<div align="center">
<img src="https://www.barrybrake.com/daily-kingcharles.jpg" style="max-width: 98%;" /></div>
<br /><p>I just heard the <a href="https://youtu.be/ZPp2vYayNMk?t=22200">first address from King Charles</a>. There's a lot to note here, but I'd like to just focus on the superb sound design from the BBC studios engineers and producers. Man! They knocked it out of the park.
</p><p>Charles sits in a parlor, lit perfectly well but not harshly, his suit and skin tones perfectly standing out from a gracious, blurred background. That's how it looks, and that's exactly how it sounds too.
</p><p>To start with, they've placed the mics so that you hear just the right amount of room. His voice bounces around that large palace room and gives you the sense of space. But, crucially, not too much. He's right there in front of you, talking to you as a colleague. The room undoubtedly sounds somewhat boomy, but they've toned it down so that it's just barely there.
</p><p>Then notice the flesh tones in his voice. Now, granted, we're talking about a Prince with a lifetime of training in public speech, and a well-honed instrument. His voice really is magnificent. It's everything you want from a king. But do you know how hard it is to get something to sound like itself? Sound engineering is incredibly tricky. They've captured his voice with real clarity. The rich midrange, the Ss and Ts and Ks that articulate without grating, that deep baritone, almost bass, that he dips into at the ends of sentences. All perfectly modulated, just enough, never too much.
</p><p>I especially like the human touches they get right. Sometimes between sentences you close your mouth and then open it again with a bit of tongue and very slight intake of breath: you could spell it "mth". Now most of the time we get rid of that (through distance or level), because if done wrong it can be nauseating. You've probably heard some local radio DJ at some point who got too close to the mic and you heard those awful mouth noises. Getting rid of it is ok, and we wouldn't have noticed or minded <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;">—–</span> but what a great decision to mic closely enough to catch them. Yes, he's a king, but he's a human being sitting there with you, with a mouth and teeth. He's breathing. He's real. Just <a href="https://youtu.be/ZPp2vYayNMk?t=22200">listen to any minute or so of this address</a>, and you'll hear what I'm talking about. The editors (there are indeed cuts in this prerecorded address) have wisely left in some pauses and deep breaths and hesitations, for the same reason. And, again, just the right amount.
</p><p>One of the most striking examples of the human touch comes near the end, when he says "<a href="https://youtu.be/ZPp2vYayNMk?t=22667">to lay my beloved mother to rest</a>." At the end of the word <i>rest</i>, he marries sound and sense by exhaling distinctly. The sensitive microphones catch it perfectly.
</p><p>Most of us have no idea the level of craftsmanship this thing takes: the chain of compressors and limiters, making sounds softer and louder as they cross different thresholds, the balance of low and middle and high frequencies, the incredible care in microphone placement.
</p><p>Hats off to the sound people, and hats off to the producers and directors who let them do their job well.
</p><p></p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6128769923751653340.post-58764366613052357492022-09-03T12:15:00.007-06:002023-05-18T16:28:18.329-06:00land of salem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTkmrLQk5ehrJ0w_CDyrUfeDFr--BKDEOGloeI8cRmoK-fJ1Wemj9J6hr8n_0z480JSPD-Gift6fyEjoZHAMLv1FshykDT43GAg209ycqZK78PwJ71KEmJP8t6-Ru4YuSdKx9YcBFZBohD0k6XoNxRVLp-t2G8jxS55phPexOIvKhtvqvMZj50G77CA/s721/E_7l5_eVIAIzesk.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="721" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTkmrLQk5ehrJ0w_CDyrUfeDFr--BKDEOGloeI8cRmoK-fJ1Wemj9J6hr8n_0z480JSPD-Gift6fyEjoZHAMLv1FshykDT43GAg209ycqZK78PwJ71KEmJP8t6-Ru4YuSdKx9YcBFZBohD0k6XoNxRVLp-t2G8jxS55phPexOIvKhtvqvMZj50G77CA/w640-h424/E_7l5_eVIAIzesk.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>
<p>In 1639, Increase Norwell, recording secretary of the General Court of Massachusetts, made a mistake.
</p><p>The Court granted land to the town of Salem but specified the wrong land. Salemite John Putnam bought 1000 acres of it and set up shop there.
</p><p>Eleven years later, Mass created the town of Topsfield, granting land to it that they didn't know had been erroneously given to Salem. The Putnams disputed it, but the Court ruled in favor of Topsfield, noting and correcting the error.
</p><p>More disputes followed, more Court rulings in favor of Topsfield. Committee members' last names included How, Easty, Wildes, and Towne.
</p><p>More legal trouble and interpersonal violence, and political upheaval. In the 1690s, an event you've heard of: the witchcraft trials of, among others, Rebecca Nurse, Mary Easty, and Sarah Cloyce, the three living daughters of William and Joanna Towne <span style="letter-spacing: -1px;"> <span style="letter-spacing:-1px;">—–</span> and Topsfield’s Sarah Wildes and Elizabeth How. They were accused of witchcraft by, among others, third generation Putnam family members Thomas Putnam Jr., his wife Ann Putnam, and their daughter, 12-year-old Ann Putnam Jr.
</p><p>So many things to observe here. Right? "It was a superstitious age," we say. But look around: people are genuinely apt to see the worst in their enemies this very day. So it may have been cooked-up, or it may have been "look at what those people over there are capable of!" . . . or both.
</p><p>Note the accusation came from those who were in error.
</p><p>Note that when facts didn't work for them in court, religion did.
</p><p>Note that the accused members of the How, Easty, Wildes, and Towne families were all women.
</p><p>Note that, even today, we talk about the witch trials as if they were about superstition rather than 1000 acres.
</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>barrybrakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17778163052096094733noreply@blogger.com0