Wandering, winding words while wild

The ship coming from nowhere going to nowhere. Destination unknown. The mysterious voyage. I am not at all certain how to label this photograph. Of course, I really do know the port of origin and the next landfall because I was a passenger on it, but I prefer to keep those things a mystery. Life is a mystery -- except to those with a deep religious faith. All right, I will stop with that thought .... now, for the music. Eddie Money is not among my favorites .... not even close .... but anyone who can make the adjustment from being a New York City cop to a rock singer has to have a few good points .... and, anyone who was not and still is not absolutely crazy about "Ronnie" has no conception of what the word "hot" really means. Ice, baby, ice, and I am not talking about Mustangs. The second piece is, of course, Ronnie Spector herself (once married to "Gunslinger Phil") performing "her favorite song" in 1987 with a pair of spectacular backup singers. If you do not recognize these three women, you have missed some of the best years in the existence of the rock and roll universe. Finally, I do not feel there is a more perfect song to win a man's heart than, "Be My Baby," nor a more perfect voice than Ronnie's to sing it.

A history of something; of what, I am uncertain

I am feeling a bit wild tonight. Do not ask me to define that, but the long and the short of it is that I am beginning to roll into high gear about the repairs/renovations to the house. It is time to "kick butt" in regard to contractors, in a manner of speaking; time to pick and to choose. Some of these guys are just ridiculous. They have the Barack Obama complex, and think they "deserve" to have you hire them rather than they having to "earn" your confidence before you hire them. Whose money is it? What a mess this country is becoming.

Moving right along, I am not sure there are more than four or five people who have been here, with me, since near the beginning when I began this blog in January 2009. Only two from that time frame still leave comments regularly. There are a few others who I know visit me here on occasion and, sometimes, leave their written words. Very few. Time has swallowed up most of them.

There are some bloggers who, if you fail to leave a comment at their blog once, will not leave another for you. Never mind if you are ill or on vacation or simply busy -- a comment is a comment is a comment. They are a commodity to be traded. There are some bloggers who, if you say something which upsets them, immediately drop you as a "friend" forever and ever. Some like that do come back after they have cooled down -- just like in "real life."

People are so different here. I always have wanted people to tell me if they do not like the illustration or the music or the words I have written in a post -- and, most importantly, to tell me why. I look for honesty and opinions and advice. Too many who post, I think, simply are looking for compliments and/or believe it is their role to make others "feel good" about their posts.

This is fine, I suppose, in the sense of making the one leaving an illegitimate compliment feel good personally -- sort of an ill-conceived concept of a good deed -- but it also is political correctness, and political correctness is one of the three or four things that is absolutely destroying America. Political correctness often also is lying.

It reminds me of the crazy concept occurring in schools and the workplace these days: Everyone gets a ribbon for participating, but there are no first or second or third place winners; no one fails a class; the person making fast food hamburgers should get the same salary as the person being shot at in an Afghanistan combat zone; the socialistic notion that if you cannot afford a cell phone, those who can should also provide one for the have-nots free of charge.

Anyone who does not think there is an upheaval, a revolt on the horizon, had best have their eyes and ears and minds checked.

Hmmmm .... I really went off on a tangent this time, did I not? Well, it is just that the blogs and the people here are a picture of society in general -- no more, no less -- and that bothers me at times.

I think I will close this post with words I left on another blog regarding the question of what makes us human; what distinguishes us from animals? Here are those words, slightly modified:

Just to throw a "monkey wrench" into the mix, I do not believe all Homo sapiens are human or possess humanity. While the ability to make fire or to act creatively or to save Planet Earth is within most of us, it is not within all of us. Genuine evil exists, I believe, both in the form of the devil possessing some and from circumstances such as genetic defect, brain injury or substance abuse.

I also believe our present species will eventually destroy itself and, probably, take the Earth with it. Neither religion nor philosophy will prevent this but, possibly, science can. However, in doing so, science would have to remove from us some of what makes us human (by contemporary concepts), creating a substantially altered species. In which case, in the distant future we would be relegated in the text books as the group which followed Cro-Magnon in the "evolutionary chain."

You do not like being demoted? Well, anyone who thinks we are at the pinnacle of the evolutionary ladder needs to think again. We really still are babes in the wood. The questions really are whether or not we will survive long enough to advance and if we are willing to give up some of the definitions of humanity as they exist today and accept changes science is capable of creating.

You think there's any chance of it?

Oyez, Oyez, Oyez! This view of London Town might not be as pleasant, pleasing or provocative as the sight of a never-ending street in Paris, but to some of us anglophiles this is a contemporary look at what once was the center of the world. It also has been among the homes to a number of the most remarkable, fascinating, narcissistic and long-gone individuals who remain as vibrant today as they were when, centuries ago, they last felt the breeze in their hair and the sun on their faces. As for the music accompanying this post, one of the songs is directly linked to the film, "The Lion in Winter," about an episode in the lives of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, and about whom the words below sort of belong. The second musical piece is here for three or four reasons, which I hope you are bright enough to understand, appreciate, absorb and benefit from yourself.

Their words, not mine

As someone who is too old to feel the passion of youth, but too young to give up on finding lasting love, today I bring you the closing lines from a superb Broadway play, "The Lion in Winter," published by James Goldman in that far away year of 1966.

I doubt anyone reading this post other than myself actually has read the play (surprise me, and say you have), but a few of you may have seen the 1968 film version with Peter O'Toole (playing Henry II), Katharine Hepburn (as Henry's wife in exile, so to speak, Eleanor of Aquitaine) and Anthony Hopkins (as their last surviving son, Richard the Lionheart). And, not to be forgotten, probably the least-known actor among all those who have played James Bond -- Timothy Dalton -- here portraying King Philip of France.

By the way, if you are unfamiliar with Eleanor, do a bit of research. I think you will be amazed at her history -- astonished, if not genuinely shocked, at what a remarkable woman she was during her lifetime. She has to be one of the most fabulous women who ever walked the Earth, in my not so humble opinion. I doubt there has been one like her since her. Melding the ages by a few hundred years, I usually fancy myself in the image of Percival, but had Eleanor been Guinevere, I would prefer to have been Lancelot.

So, then, read the script, the words. Henry and Eleanor are about to part after having been together with "friends and family" at Chinon in France during the Christmas season in the year of our lord 1183. Imagine yourself, if you are able, to be walking near enough to Henry and Eleanor along the Vienne River in that medieval time -- near enough so that you are able to hear them as they speak to each other. Now, after you have read, have "listened" to them .... can you feel and understand what to be alive really is .... can you, do you?

Henry: We're in the cellar and you're going back to prison and my life is wasted and we've lost each other and you're smiling.

Eleanor: It's the way I register despair. There's everything in life but hope.

Henry: We have each other and for all I know that's what hope is.

Eleanor: We're jungle creatures, Henry, and the dark is all around us. See them? In the corners, you can see the eyes.

Henry: And they can see ours. I'm a match for anything. Aren't you?

Eleanor: I should have been a great fool not to love you.

Henry: Come along; I'll see you to your ship.

Eleanor: So soon?

Henry: There's always Easter Court.

Eleanor: You'll let me out for Easter?

Henry: Come the resurrection, you can strike me down again.

Eleanor: Perhaps I'll do it next time.

Henry: And perhaps you won't.

Eleanor: (Taking his arm, moving to go) It must be late and I don't want to miss the tide.

Henry: (As they go) You know, I hope we never die.

Eleanor: I hope so, too.

Henry: You think there's any chance of it?

Another view from the balcony drifting in time

Looking from the balcony to the right -- as was the view from the photograph in my last post -- brought forward an obvious question: What was the view from the balcony looking to the left? Well, here you can see for yourself. Pretty much the same in either direction. Perhaps, it is the "street of dreams" below -- an endless street with endless traffic. But, no, I do not think so. Whatever name you wish to assign to this street, the post today is little more than a look inside my thoughts at a given moment in time just as the photograph is a look inside the Parisian world as it existed for a moment in July 2004. As for the music, many bands tried to emulate the Beatles back in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Surprisingly (to me, anyway), hard rock, heavy metal Deep Purple was among them. I guess we are witnessing evolution in action. Anyway, here are the original members of Deep Purple performing "Help." Personally, I think it is better than the version by the Beatles. And, here is Dokken, too, with "Paris is Burning" .... I seem to have missed that party.

There always is the unexpected

Today began as yesterday ended.

I seem to have something cosmic on my mind, whether it is a whimper or a bang, I am not certain. 

It has been sort of a strange day for me. (How often do I write those words?) What seems strange about it is that I am preoccupied with thoughts of repairs and renovations to my house. Some of you -- most of you -- are not aware that a hail storm caused considerable damage to this house during the early evening of August 6.

These things (repairs and renovations) had never occurred to me before the hail storm. They form another unforeseen element which seemingly has fallen out of nowhere into my life and has, to a degree, taken control of my time and my thoughts.

The insurance company has agreed to cough up about $15,000 for damage. What should I do? Pocket the insurance money? Spend the insurance money on the repairs? Spend the insurance money plus a bunch of my own money and do a more substantial overhaul of the house since work will be going on anyway?

On the one hand, I do not feel like putting  much of my own money into the house because I really do not like being here and do not consider my residency here to be permanent; on the other hand, I have thoughts of dumping a lot of my money into it on the gamble the housing market will improve and I can sell it for a substantially greater profit later.

I might even go crazy and tear down the old patio and build a new and better version of it. I even am thinking of three sides of glass and heated for winter. It would be a fascinating place to lounge during a snowstorm or to sleep beneath a full moon. Well, that seems like a lot of expense for a place I do not actually want to be, but you see how my mind goes back and forth these days ....

Hmmmm .... hmmmm .... hmmmm ....

These are not thoughts I want to dwell upon right now, but I must because insurance money always has strings attached and winter is just around the corner. Winter is not a good time for repair and renovation work.

 

Then, too, I had to cash out a mutual fund account this week because it was losing money like a tree loses leaves in the autumn. This process began in May when Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke announced that the U.S. central bank would begin reducing its bond purchase program late this year.

A mini-panic of sorts followed, and I decided after four months that it was time to cut and run myself. I have a few months to find a qualifying, alternative investment, or I will have to give a lot of the money to an irresponsible, wasteful and increasingly corrupt federal government in the form of taxes at the end of the year. Again, like the house, not thoughts I expected to be dwelling upon at this point in time.

Back in 2009, I frequently thought about and wrote of leaving the U.S. The possibility has never been far from my mind, and it is stronger again now than it has been for a few years.

 

Back to the present.

I have had a DVD of "The Eiger Sanction" playing in the background (three feet away and bit to my left) over and over most of the day. I suppose it is a sign of my mind drifting and turning to past dreams that never materialized, rather than focusing on houses and insurance money and mutual funds and places I do not wish to be ....

Enough chatter from me for tonight.

View from a balcony drifting in time

Since I have been nowhere this summer that I have not been before and since the general theme of this post is the past, why not run another photograph from the past -- in this instance, once again from 2004 -- as an easy means to provide some manner of illustration to be part of the overall equation? So, here it is: A photo from the past, a photo from the "City of Light," a photo from what once was my reality and today is a dimming memory. Two more points: While it might not be overtly apparent, the musical selections do have a connection to the photograph and the written commentary and, while I generally think profanity should be confined to bars and back alleys, I have been posting occasional songs in which the singer tosses out a few such words. Such is the music today .... sorry.

When I was a boy

When I was a boy, I wanted to walk, ski and dogsled to the North Pole. One trip by three means, you understand, not three treks. For you who study such matters, I was (and still am) in the camp which does not believe Robert Perry was the first to actually reach The Pole in 1909, although he is given credit for doing so. Neither am I persuaded that Frederick Cook was the first to reach it, as he claimed to have done and which many believe he did in 1908, but I think Cook at least did as well as Perry in his attempt.

Now, such a journey no longer is real adventure. If you have the money, you can charter an aircraft and fly there and, if the weather is right, even parachute down onto that particular top of the world.

When I was a boy, I wanted to climb Mount Everest. I wanted to find the body of George Mallory and discover proof that he actually had gained the summit in 1922.

Now, such a journey no longer is real adventure. If you have the money, you can hire someone even to carry you to that particular top of the world. And, since more than 200 climbers have died on Everest and it has been impossible to recover the majority of the bodies and the locations of most, including that of Mallory, are now known, such a journey seems truly to be a whim rooted in futility.

What made those memories rise to the surface was running across the film, "The Eiger Sanction," on cable television. Not that I wanted to assassinate the "bad guys" for the CIA while climbing The Eiger -- as the novel and the subsequent motion picture focus upon -- but, yes, you probably have guessed it: When I was a boy, I wanted to be among those who could proudly boast of climbing The Eiger's indomitable North Face.

I think this feat remains a worthy challenge today, but the appropriate moment in time for accepting it is a decade or two behind me.

The world today is made up largely of phony challenges in terms of discovery and being the first (or even among the few) to conquer an obstacle of Nature -- such as reaching the North Pole or climbing Mount Everest or scaling The Eiger.

It is true that hard work, skill, talent and determination continue to be part of many personal challenges in this, the 21st Century, but few actual life or death "top of the world" achievements still exist to be sought out. Now, fools take part in silly obstacle course races on television, and bigger fools watch these programs. And, for instance, while it might be a personal accomplishment to run a marathon, just about anyone who is willing to put in the necessary time and effort is able to do it. More than 25,000 people demonstrate this fact every year in Boston and a few dozen do every year -- yes, believe it or not -- at the North Pole.

I guess what I am saying is that while the universe still might be expanding, life on this planet is shrinking for human kind except in this sense: Managing to survive while maintaining a measure of sanity and refraining from laughing yourself into oblivion.

Long live rock and roll

It is fairly common knowledge, I think, that Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote the music for "The Phantom of the Opera" to match the sound/quality of the voice of Sarah Brightman. I suppose some would say that is another "urban myth," but I believe it is true -- especially since both principals in the matter have told this story.

Probably not as well known was Webber's selection of the voice of Ian Gillan, later of heavy metal Deep Purple fame, to be the voice of Jesus in another of his masterpieces -- "Jesus Christ Superstar." Actually, I did not know this fact until recently.

If you do not recognize the names of Andrew Lloyd Webber, Sarah Brightman or Ian Gillan, I am sorry to have bothered you. If you do recognize the names, but not these musical connections, you might consider listening to them in their various venues. I think you might discover what is below the surface often is more relevant and wonderful than what is on the surface -- no matter what the context of the conversation.

I wonder what her story is ....

I published another view of this portrait on one of my posts in March 2009. It, like this one, was taken in 2004 when I made sort of a "grand tour" of Europe. It was not grand enough, because most of Europe remains unseen by me and I would like to explore more, more, more. The reason I have this photograph of this painting today is because a segment of my post is about Leonardo da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" and the model for his masterpiece. You can read about that below. In the meanwhile .... hmmmm .... 2004 .... nine years ago! Do you believe it? I do not. It does not seem like yesterday. It seems like a lifetime ago and, for some, it was that long ago. A lifetime ago. How many people do you know who were here then, but no longer are? Time waits for no man, for no woman; for nothing nor for no one. To borrow a few lines from Whitesnake:

Restless heart, restless mind,
I'm tired of wasting,
My precious time.

Just for fun .... No. 1

For those of you who do not keep up with developments in the realm of archaeology, researchers are excavating the remains of Lisa Gherardini's husband and sons as the next step in the quest to identify the skeletal remains of Leonardo da Vinci's model for the "Mona Lisa." The Gherardini family once was Leonardo's neighbor in Florence, Italy.

DNA samples taken from the family's bones will be compared to samples from skeletal remains excavated last year at the Florence convent where Lisa Gherardini became a nun after her husband's death and was eventually buried.

But first, the skeletons uncovered at the convent will be examined to determine how old the women were when they died and narrow the field of eight possible Mona Lisa candidates. If Lisa Gherardini's remains are identified, scientists plan to virtually reconstruct her face from her skull.

I am not so sure if this is a good idea or a bad idea. The quest for knowledge is admirable, but, I think, some things are better left a mystery. Some researchers also are theorizing and attempting to learn why the Mona Lisa's smile is a bit strange or unique. Did she have crooked teeth? Did she have congenital palsy?

My god, who cares? Some people are born idiots, but not all of them are driven to publicly demonstrate it. Admire the painting, adore the face with its wonderful expression and keep your idiocy to yourself. Whatever was the cause of her special smile, I, for one, would have loved to kiss the lips which formed it.

Just for fun .... No. 2

The writer of the The Sixties classic song, "Hey, Joe," is disputed still today. Tim Rose is listed as the author by the record company that owns the rights to the piece, but Rose himself said it was a traditional song (i.e., original author unknown and/or sort of a folk song) and a number of others claim credit for it. What cannot be disputed is that it has been recorded by literally dozens of individuals and bands. 

In my not so humble opinion, Jimi Hendrix owns the best version of it no matter who wrote it. His rendition of it is, probably, the best known and the most often heard on classic rock radio stations today. No one comes close to performing it the way Hendrix did. I could say more, but will not at the moment.

A little-known, little-heard adaptation of the song was recorded by Deep Purple on the band's first album in 1968. Without adding an abundance of flowery adjectives in praise of Deep Purple, I will say two things:

First, I think this band -- with its varying faces and battling personalities -- was the greatest of the rock era. It was not afraid to experiment or to try anything in a musical sense, and usually succeeded in accomplishing what it set out to do.

Next, after Hendrix, I like the Deep Purple version of, "Hey Joe," more than that of any other musician or group. It is done very differently from the customary manner and is, I think, a perfect example of this band succeeding at leaving its own unique imprint on a song really owned not by an individual, but by an era: The Sixties.

What do you think? Keep listening, even when the song seems to be over. And, it is a great song to dance to .... try it, but listen to it a time or two first.