Friday, April 2, 2010

Local violinist sheds his identity on 4/1/10

Sent: Thursday, April 01, 2010 11:25 PM
Subject: New Life

Hi friends, I have embarked on a new life. I have seen the light, and am taking a new identity. Please refer to me now on as Rama Lama.

I have rid myself and my being of all material goods, which is quite freeing.

I have let my identity as a spiritual being replace the one that you all have come to know as the musician, and am releasing the musical life that I have been publicly pursuing. Please know that although I love music, I will not be considering myself a musician any longer.

Namaste, Rama Lama




Thursday, April 1, 2010

April

I am watching a film
About Norway, maybe Denmark-
where winter is one unbroken
night, six months long
a country with vast rural stretches
inside the Arctic Circle,
where the cities are ancient,
and the diet-fish and wine-superhuman.
It is April there, and this
is no glossy travel come-on
because bulky middle-aged women
in aprons and house slippers
are lolling on park benches
lifting wrinkled faces to the sun.
Other women with big strong arms
and a few teeth missing
scrub carpets in the river
and men in suits run, growling
with joy, into the park tearing
off neckties and throwing
themselves onto the grass.
Mothers by the duck pond
are holding each other
and weeping while children
wrench off shoes and socks.
They are all insane with spring
And I recognize them immediately.


Meredith Holmes/March 2003



Tuesday, March 30, 2010

New from Southeast Main

Flamingo

By Jer



Windows is Shutting Down

Windows is Shutting Down

by Clive James

Windows is shutting down, and grammar are
On their last leg. So what am we to do?
A letter of complaint go just so far,
Proving the only one in step are you.















Better, perhaps, to simply let it goes.
A sentence have to be screwed pretty bad
Before they gets to where you doesnt knows
The meaning what it must be meant to had.

The meteor have hit. Extinction spread,
But evolution do not stop for that.
A mutant languages rise from the dead
And all them rules is suddenly old hat.

Too bad for we, us what has had so long
The best seat from the only game in town.
But there it am, and whom can say its wrong?
Those are the break. Windows is shutting down.

"Windows Is Shutting Down"
by Clive James from Opal Sunset: Selected poems, 1958–2008. ©
W.W. Norton & Company, 2008.

From Writer's
Almanac


Friday, March 26, 2010

Happiness Makes Up in Height for What It Lacks in Length

For Sharon on her birthday which she shares with Robert Frost.

Happiness Makes Up in Height for What It Lacks in Length

by Robert Frost


Oh, stormy stormy world,
The days you were not swirled
Around with mist and cloud,
Or wrapped as in a shroud,
And the sun's brilliant ball
Was not in part or all
Obscured from mortal view—
Were days so very few
I can but wonder whence
I get the lasting sense
Of so much warmth and light.
If my mistrust is right
It may be altogether
From one day's perfect weather,
When starting clear at dawn,
The day swept clearly on
To finish clear at eve.
I verily believe
My fair impression may
Be all from that one day
No shadow crossed but ours
As through its blazing flowers
We went from house to wood
For change of solitude.












"Happiness Makes Up in Height for What It Lacks in Length" by Robert Frost, Collected Poems. © Henry Holt and Company, LLC, 1969.


Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Windows

The Ins and Outs of Windows

By june

My ventures into painting in 2010 have been pathetically few. One of these was actually begun in Nevada in February of 2009. It was the first Nevada painting I did at the Red Barn. It was colder than [fill in the blank] and even with two electric heaters and my Montana winter coat and gloves, I was shivering. Jer wasn't due for an hour and a half. The only thing that would keep me from walking the four miles to Beatty was painting (well, that and the south wind at about 25 mph).


So I painted my first Nevada painting, shivering, as if I were working in watercolor:


From the Red Barn, oil on canvas, about 20 x 30″, 2009


I really liked the effect of the landscape reaching into the barn's concrete walls and taking over even my shivery body. Later in that residency I tried to recapitulate something of the effect. The paintings were dreadful and ultimately discarded. But I kept this one; I still have it, hanging alongside of a watercolor done in the first painting class I ever took. Both mean something to me personally.


Sunday, March 14, 2010

Too much pi

Today is Pi Day, in honor of the mathematical constant pi (π), an irrational number that begins 3.14 — like today's date, March 14th or 3/14.


π is a letter of the Greek alphabet, and it's the symbol for the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. In other words, if a circle has a diameter of 10 inches, we could find out its circumference by multiplying 10 inches by π, and we'd find out that the circle with a 10-inch diameter has a circumference (or perimeter) of approximately 31.4159265. It can only ever be approximate — never exact — because π is an irrational number, meaning that it goes on forever without repeating or having patterns. Using powerful computers, π has been calculated in recent years into trillions of decimal places.



Pi Day began in 1988, started by a physicist named Larry Shaw. And just last year, in 2009, the U.S. House of Representatives passed a non-binding resolution designating today as National Pi Day.


Pi Day celebrations around the nation today involve eating dessert pies or pizza pies, throwing cream pies, and listening to lectures on the importance of the irrational number — sometimes all of these things occurring in unison.


There are legions of people worldwide devoted to memorizing π to as far as they can memorize it. And today around the world, there are π recitation contests. The world record, according to the Guinness Book, is currently held by Lu Chao, a grad student from China, who over the course of 24 hours and 4 minutes recited pi to the 67,890th decimal place without error.


To aid in the memorization of the never-ending, pattern-less number, people have written poetry and stories in a mnemonic called "Pilish," which is a way of constrained writing "in which the number of letters in each successive word "spells out" the digits of π." One of the earliest and best-known examples of it was a sentence by English physicist Sir James Jeans, who wrote: "How I need a drink, alcoholic in nature, after the heavy lectures involving quantum mechanics!" 'How' has three letters, 'I' has one, "need" has four — so it forms 3.14, the start of π — and each successive word's letter count represents the next digit in π.


Then, in 1996, a piphilologist (as these people are called), wrote a 3,834-digit Cadaeic Cadenza, which begins with a retelling of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"; every single word adheres to the constraints that render letter counts into accurate successive π digits.