tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65293011177097248782024-03-08T03:33:12.553-08:00World So WideThis world is so wide that, even if you flitted around and around it, you would never reach the end of it. This blog is a collage of more or less literary and humorous, outlandish or sometimes even serious glimpses at this great wide world.World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.comBlogger841125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-69683865919557655822024-03-05T09:45:00.000-08:002024-03-05T09:53:31.536-08:00A Korean move<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcFN8hhoHGqK7_eFlSOGH0PCyf0nTACdmd9jBejNAL99xpdTjX8lMzpW9K6AxJIhL0kMERRsHydXQ10PLIbEjclNAzmsHNOF0wqM1kuY-HpGO9UC7IMZDYY5cTxGEXu7LGlDRqVqPVJb1Jn5r1d9R9jEXAwBm8Ju4rTJalqA6wPBldX7jWIjsj_4q7l6I/s1087/DrSlump.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="1087" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivcFN8hhoHGqK7_eFlSOGH0PCyf0nTACdmd9jBejNAL99xpdTjX8lMzpW9K6AxJIhL0kMERRsHydXQ10PLIbEjclNAzmsHNOF0wqM1kuY-HpGO9UC7IMZDYY5cTxGEXu7LGlDRqVqPVJb1Jn5r1d9R9jEXAwBm8Ju4rTJalqA6wPBldX7jWIjsj_4q7l6I/w400-h241/DrSlump.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Drop sideways onto<br />bed in desperation, then<br />sad eyes on pillow</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Note</b><br />Inspired by watching yet another South Korean TV series – Dr. Slump (2024). The photo is a film still of actress Park Shin-hye in a scene from this series.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-3532853039349345062024-02-29T04:35:00.000-08:002024-02-29T04:35:57.113-08:00Today’s observation haiku<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Stout Roma woman<br />seated on a concrete block<br />outside the market</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She had removed one <br />sock and was massaging the<br />toes of her bare foot</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Note</b><br />The truth and nothing but. <br />Was this worth noting and being poeticized/documented? <br />Not entirely sure. But what’s done is done.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-92203286651162231582024-02-04T04:06:00.000-08:002024-02-04T04:11:24.245-08:00Linger On<div>Linger on,<br />you pale blue light<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And it did linger on,</div><div>pale and blue</div><div><br /></div><div>But just how long</div><div>and what followed – </div><div><br /></div><div>light or shade – </div><div>I do not know</div><div><br /></div><div>after the night’s </div><div>weighty long dream</div><div><br /></div><div>– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Note</b></div><div>This was sparked by the song <i>Pale Blue Eyes</i> by the Velvet Underground, which has appeared and disappeared repeatedly in my mind for days now for reasons unknown with its title and imagery distorted.</div><div><br /></div><iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/KisHhIRihMY?si=jg_aYS6ZjSJY89F1" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/KisHhIRihMY/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-13496945564211275022024-01-21T10:13:00.000-08:002024-01-21T10:13:01.341-08:00A lazy Sunday afternoon haiku<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmsfi76VUPHmDsGgyIHCRQrwL6onPUmuB81He9QY95u5o6AmH7NyxHglv4zVrEd7TYKrLfEh0X-8ckgi_DtFwilM-mBn94jyzdtiYQNwTh0K1dy4_poO-miB6MidjO9xVL-zJwXv05iwYiiUe6Nw6DqZ4ai5sKf7-0EObm7MhoiBh1YeMwTSCf7eEu4og/s1280/1705858451015-1280-sg.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmsfi76VUPHmDsGgyIHCRQrwL6onPUmuB81He9QY95u5o6AmH7NyxHglv4zVrEd7TYKrLfEh0X-8ckgi_DtFwilM-mBn94jyzdtiYQNwTh0K1dy4_poO-miB6MidjO9xVL-zJwXv05iwYiiUe6Nw6DqZ4ai5sKf7-0EObm7MhoiBh1YeMwTSCf7eEu4og/w400-h400/1705858451015-1280-sg.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sunny afternoon,<br />late January. At home<br />alone, cat sleeping.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Note</b><br />Razor edge of time reporting, glimpse of a time span that lasted for a while. I’d actually planned to write this in my ahead before I even got home. I knew that the cat would be sleeping. He does that about 16 hours out of 24.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-55006013875912966632024-01-18T00:42:00.000-08:002024-01-18T00:42:45.890-08:00Photography haiku<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1YBT3aioxv0tLwjHcOjnSlioCawiggrrl8lWo5dX1AU1NrHCZAomHnBaiLQ__2l39OioxlpkEU7bLDfAfUYBSoIPIzJ3gWzfrVWA9NBPQoAgjd8ZIw9sAZLZgD4COYvdu6ZSAlmSUMfw0zUcVYVSw53XMhx02zcWPfuXY7FXFSJ-y2GnH96YR4h8wYxn/s1280/IMG_5197-1280-sg.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1YBT3aioxv0tLwjHcOjnSlioCawiggrrl8lWo5dX1AU1NrHCZAomHnBaiLQ__2l39OioxlpkEU7bLDfAfUYBSoIPIzJ3gWzfrVWA9NBPQoAgjd8ZIw9sAZLZgD4COYvdu6ZSAlmSUMfw0zUcVYVSw53XMhx02zcWPfuXY7FXFSJ-y2GnH96YR4h8wYxn/w400-h400/IMG_5197-1280-sg.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Found out this morning<br />I have neither spider web <br />photos nor smoke pix</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Notes</b><br />I’ve been known to participate in some photography challenges where you’re invited to post a photo to match a given topic. This made me realize that I have nothing suitable for at least two topics. The above smoky picture is actually a fake – the interior of this room looks smoky but in reality the smoke was the result of a dirty window through which I shot the photo. As to spider web photos, I have nothing to show. Must try to look for webs!</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-65901936164735684512024-01-13T05:38:00.000-08:002024-01-14T03:53:52.622-08:00Old movie<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiam3b47Y174Elg5LXiQzHLp6tl1WuI1IWlUssKgloBDs-Rc5VsycLkUGUJxpYUWWKUOkxdF-auchpEUoYURjuGRpkSWB350sF0c10H9g-UpZ3BRfSWARzXqfOWp3PG4PHYb6USMU3is7gn25D1pyXsX5T5CJJxx99F__7dbvXgqYXKFKOdtK_3PgWYur/s818/Old-movies-cell-phone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="818" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiam3b47Y174Elg5LXiQzHLp6tl1WuI1IWlUssKgloBDs-Rc5VsycLkUGUJxpYUWWKUOkxdF-auchpEUoYURjuGRpkSWB350sF0c10H9g-UpZ3BRfSWARzXqfOWp3PG4PHYb6USMU3is7gn25D1pyXsX5T5CJJxx99F__7dbvXgqYXKFKOdtK_3PgWYur/w400-h313/Old-movies-cell-phone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s an old movie – you can tell by the cell phones they’re using.”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Note<br /></b></span><span style="font-size: large;">This was said by a relatively young person (born in 1986). Makes me feel downright ancient because old movies to me are still those that were made in the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s. They definitely used rotary phones in those days – if any.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-31762704732127824972024-01-06T07:51:00.000-08:002024-01-06T07:51:46.454-08:00Critical Can Opener<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2ZRBBVwFZ2KEzrURJGIqFxa0xL1HlpQINLAKdEoMaEeb7ipPsWZxpVFXP3XyRV8ZnkL6FStSaLIdbNoTkO9Tv_xVAlQjqz79vD2wUyajDUxF2lW-2WYHTta5A1nRFD5syNbsTrUx6vAWIvn7cyYra4441dckl6MJzu_TqJm2Y78BEi7Fxl8lONfdMkq7y" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="370" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2ZRBBVwFZ2KEzrURJGIqFxa0xL1HlpQINLAKdEoMaEeb7ipPsWZxpVFXP3XyRV8ZnkL6FStSaLIdbNoTkO9Tv_xVAlQjqz79vD2wUyajDUxF2lW-2WYHTta5A1nRFD5syNbsTrUx6vAWIvn7cyYra4441dckl6MJzu_TqJm2Y78BEi7Fxl8lONfdMkq7y=w392-h400" width="392" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">There’s nothing wrong<br />with this poem.<br />No need to look for it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Note</b><br />A variation of Richard Brautigan’s poem of the same title, in which he says “There is something wrong with this poem. Can you find it?” (Quoted from Brautigan’s collection <i>Rommel Drives on Deep into Egypt</i> from 1970.)</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-77418890408145526312023-12-30T11:02:00.000-08:002023-12-30T11:02:33.278-08:00At cHouse<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8WGZ__zJG_DMbJnUpHW0T3F38DaADyFX-vp3CAscpmYR9CaHB1sZfX7DQxBAP6khZBUunJ6alyuMJhFQMfLs3_SG9aJqVNSwNKu0Xp7lKg7vF2DSQCeHFdwWzAZUFtSp91ueOz36oqJ0x1cJ7f2T08vTgwp73TvpcRRSqkA1UJgbndpHq0FwCTTWKb8B/s1280/1703962296577-crp-1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8WGZ__zJG_DMbJnUpHW0T3F38DaADyFX-vp3CAscpmYR9CaHB1sZfX7DQxBAP6khZBUunJ6alyuMJhFQMfLs3_SG9aJqVNSwNKu0Xp7lKg7vF2DSQCeHFdwWzAZUFtSp91ueOz36oqJ0x1cJ7f2T08vTgwp73TvpcRRSqkA1UJgbndpHq0FwCTTWKb8B/w400-h300/1703962296577-crp-1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">A bartender who looks like Sandra the Hawaiian from Superstore mixed my drink this evening.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Note</b><br />The year’s about to end, so I decided to treat myself to one of those Italian bitters, and the above Japanese sentence renders the event as concisely as possible. No picture of the bartender – that would violate privacy laws.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-12108984406321412242023-12-15T03:53:00.000-08:002023-12-15T03:53:57.607-08:00What do I remember<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQRQXl9ziCkEUVlWcG6cQUen074vCJYJW6kVuBSS2KidltTmpBdaKeTfz-jhmJO48n4NDK3d5qq68aHrC_00XYS_NPLp-A0XPFvUZBwmOuUJ2sPGDxqCRC2XwsHQc0oTlJPnL78udLgkFv1U9FZuVWYt1BlaGPkEq-biTFeIS3sdq9TazKgY5sPT9ezBe/s1280/R4-CMS20_20220901_0023-1280-sg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="1280" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQRQXl9ziCkEUVlWcG6cQUen074vCJYJW6kVuBSS2KidltTmpBdaKeTfz-jhmJO48n4NDK3d5qq68aHrC_00XYS_NPLp-A0XPFvUZBwmOuUJ2sPGDxqCRC2XwsHQc0oTlJPnL78udLgkFv1U9FZuVWYt1BlaGPkEq-biTFeIS3sdq9TazKgY5sPT9ezBe/w400-h268/R4-CMS20_20220901_0023-1280-sg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />What do I remember<br />of this light-weight day<br />above the hillside,<br />above dark shadows,<br />looking at blazing white<br />clouds in the distance?<p></p><p>– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</p><p><b>Note</b><br />Let’s leave it at that, shall we? More of a question about memory and what one remembers about one particular moment. Thank God for photographs – they greatly help with the task of reconstructing things gone by.</p><p>The photo taken from a chair lift above Campo Imperatore in Abruzzo, Italy, is by my real me, <a href="https://beilharz.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Johannes Beilharz</a>. Leica R4, 50 mm Summilux, Adox CMS II 20 film.</p><p><br /></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-48855690487779394422023-11-27T10:16:00.000-08:002023-11-28T10:49:20.306-08:00Voice Message<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDRr1U9JPsUftUx0gPYjPMEmaaFtiM4eSNCVBH04I4euDSW84GznmL6KmqiiokVfFYk-BC8TieCEriKELpTL-9JgPRkoGyl3OG8L6hAFQWoK03TM_OAc5ejFebJ5wLjryTJlkGwLvmDljcwBuxyVBRACQOgNt0KKI-ZHej-f4ixBtF1LmlU37dK-_qeeq/s1563/girl-on-bus-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1563" data-original-width="1280" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDRr1U9JPsUftUx0gPYjPMEmaaFtiM4eSNCVBH04I4euDSW84GznmL6KmqiiokVfFYk-BC8TieCEriKELpTL-9JgPRkoGyl3OG8L6hAFQWoK03TM_OAc5ejFebJ5wLjryTJlkGwLvmDljcwBuxyVBRACQOgNt0KKI-ZHej-f4ixBtF1LmlU37dK-_qeeq/w524-h640/girl-on-bus-2.jpg" width="524" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p>Girl on metro is recording a voice message: “Sorry there were no advent calendars with 31 doors, so I had to get one with 24. Is that okay?”</span><p></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-54148059494980695352023-11-24T08:27:00.000-08:002023-11-24T08:27:17.834-08:00My name is Luka – an ultrashort poem<div><span id="docs-internal-guid-0361c45e-7fff-f820-59d0-aad598f83432"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">My name is Luka</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Now playing</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Note</b>
For those not familiar, here's the song by Suzanne Vega from 1987 this alludes to:</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div><br /></div><iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/VZt7J0iaUD0?si=NNuMatTCMsIxviff" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Other than that:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Just don't ask me what it was.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div>– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</div>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-80184850548297393982023-10-31T12:05:00.006-07:002023-10-31T12:09:41.780-07:00No Regrets - one of the best break-up songs ever<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/9pxEKfEBOWM?si=PP-z9c4bico-vjkE" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/9pxEKfEBOWM/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><b>Tom Rush performs <i>No Regrets</i> live</b></h2><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">This gem, written in 1968, is probably Tom Rush's most well-known song, and it has been covered by other notable artists over the years (among them the Walker Brothers and Emmylou Harris). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">To me, his own rendition is the best and most touching by far. He has a great voice and is an excellent guitarist with a distinct style of his own.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">From the lyrics:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span style="font-size: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No regrets</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No tears goodbye</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Don't want you back</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We'd only cry again</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Say goodbye again</span></span></div></div>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-50211922070406752892023-10-24T04:26:00.004-07:002023-10-24T04:29:00.505-07:006 lines<p><span>A grinder<br />is digging into the wall<br />painfully</span></p><p>And there’s<br />nothing<br />I can do about it</p><p>– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</p><p><span><b>Note</b><br />The reported truth and nothing but. I could have added “except write a pedestrian poem about it”, but then it would have been more than 6 lines. And we wouldn't want that, would we?</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-77350063986187281112023-09-10T09:47:00.002-07:002023-09-10T09:47:42.869-07:00The supersonic chewing power haiku<p><span style="font-size: large;">We are moths and can<br />infest everything! We then<br />lay a zillion eggs.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Note</b><br />A grim reality report from the afflicted kitchen.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-38841839016524347512023-09-07T03:22:00.010-07:002023-09-07T07:15:40.068-07:00John Prine - Hello In There (Live From Sessions at West 54th)<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/OVhA01J0Zsg?si=ze5zg_fb_s2JngWs" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-US">Me and Loretta, we don't talk much now<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">She sits and stares through the backdoor screen<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">And all the news just repeats itself<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen<br /></span></i>(John
Prine, from the lyrics of <i>Hello In There</i>)</p><p class="MsoNormal">This song
has a story for me. I came to know it when I bought <i>Diamonds & Rust</i> by Joan Baez around 1975, the year it was
released. <i>Hello In There</i> instantly
struck me as one of the best songs on the album and made me aware of its
composer, John Prine. As a result, I started listening to Prine and bought
several of his albums.</p></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQLKaKbsFAg8DhjLw9bwd0LAGpzN_bRdNC4VUEiiEY0UlMYb2wYrdQnuloVIS0ALAyIRIh37bePhNVGCxQKqYUlEcVlRT6Ql8nZR9kunRc0StbQf_e5rBR1FC0ier3o6fmlV1vNBONgWj_qQYdalobWjlzXXBtb-Y8vH4dO301iFmPX3ThVRquAc43aM5C" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="220" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQLKaKbsFAg8DhjLw9bwd0LAGpzN_bRdNC4VUEiiEY0UlMYb2wYrdQnuloVIS0ALAyIRIh37bePhNVGCxQKqYUlEcVlRT6Ql8nZR9kunRc0StbQf_e5rBR1FC0ier3o6fmlV1vNBONgWj_qQYdalobWjlzXXBtb-Y8vH4dO301iFmPX3ThVRquAc43aM5C" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-65824345485952459232023-07-11T08:48:00.002-07:002023-07-11T08:48:27.748-07:00T. S. was wrong<h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Thomas Stearns</span></h1><p><span style="font-size: medium;">was wrong:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">July is the cruellest month,<br />sandwiched between June<br />and August, which are<br />almost as cruel if measured<br />by the unbearable heat here<br />in the Roman stone desert<br />which comes immensely<br />close to a waste land<br />every day from nine to five</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Note</b><br />A facetious shot at the beginning of T. S. Eliot’s <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Waste_Land" target="_blank">The Waste Land</a> (1922). Otherwise razor edge reporting from the global warming front in Rome, Italy, on July 11, 2023.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-91956579406677176342023-07-01T01:55:00.004-07:002023-07-01T02:02:13.777-07:00Dream No. 181<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.udiscovermusic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/George-Harrison-GettyImages-157470617.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://www.udiscovermusic.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/George-Harrison-GettyImages-157470617.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Had a dream last night<br />in which, try as I might,<br />I could not remember<br />what George Harrison<br />looked like.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This greatly upset me<br />in the dream, him<br />being my favorite<br />Beatle and all. 10-foot <br />pole taste of memory loss.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Photo: Ed Caraeff/Getty Images</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-80221992338667297052023-06-05T11:08:00.007-07:002023-06-05T12:04:37.302-07:00How to do Europe in five days<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtLAjS1YoQwp5NtnnARiipAFNwAoDcUHRU09_1xhT9i85eEt4K7t9rXZI3K8ioai7V1f8UuM848yICt7VD8C8CPJ-HuuU4LJaRtSoQVzVZLicm-G9f8jQ48zWub8H7EqGFitW_XeAlxDPUmamAB8Ad0cywhfwmuwOvBvetzgLfDYS0DvUoYVDMCsWpg/s1378/Eur-in-5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1378" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtLAjS1YoQwp5NtnnARiipAFNwAoDcUHRU09_1xhT9i85eEt4K7t9rXZI3K8ioai7V1f8UuM848yICt7VD8C8CPJ-HuuU4LJaRtSoQVzVZLicm-G9f8jQ48zWub8H7EqGFitW_XeAlxDPUmamAB8Ad0cywhfwmuwOvBvetzgLfDYS0DvUoYVDMCsWpg/w371-h400/Eur-in-5.png" width="371" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;">Jackie and Jilly, who used to be friends and colleagues while both lived in L.A., are finally meeting again at a bar in Boise, Idaho, for the first time in years.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">“I hear you went on a trip last year?”</span><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>“Yes, we did Europe in five days. It was great.”<br /></span><span>“What do you mean by <i>you did Europe</i>?”<br /></span><span>“Well, we looked up <i>What to see in Europe</i> on the Internet and planned accordingly.”<br /></span><span>“I see.”<br /></span><span>“It worked perfectly. We did France, Spain, Italy, Germany and England.”<br /></span><span>“And saw them in five days?”<br /></span><span>“Yes! And the beauty of it is we’ll never have to go back there.”<br /></span><span>“Because you’ve seen all there is to see?”<br /></span><span>“Everything worth seeing!”<br /></span><span>“Good for you and your blessed little eyes!”<br /></span><span>“Are you being sarcastic by any chance?”<br /></span><span>“Never! Europe and the wisdom of the Internet would never recover!”</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Photos</b><br />Top left: Paris, France; top right: Rome, Italy<br />Center right: Heidelberg, Germany<br />Bottom left: London, England; bottom right: Madrid, Spain</span></p><p><br /></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-24299557351164048002023-06-03T12:57:00.001-07:002023-06-03T12:57:23.829-07:00A contemporary gesture haiku<p><span style="font-size: large;">Kiss your own palm <br />ecstatically while LOL<br />and jumping up and down</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Notes</b><br />Gestural cloning is an essential part of (aspiring to) social media popularity. The above poem is based on one such gesture observed today. Do it, post it on tiktok (or wherever) immediately and get popularity!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For anyone unfamiliar with messaging abbreviations: LOL does not mean “lots of love” but “laughing out loud”. Seems to happen all the time in messages.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For purists: No, I did not quite follow the syllable count and don’t really GAFF.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-50608120486211102212023-05-19T01:58:00.002-07:002023-05-19T02:00:24.431-07:00Kate and Anna McGarrigle: Mother Mother (1990)<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/YUQCelt9Z8s" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/YUQCelt9Z8s/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I've had this song in my head for days without knowing why. Usually there's some association that triggers the memory of a song. Nothing like it in this case. Didn't even wake up with it playing in my head as it sometimes happens.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I've been listening to Kate and Anna McGarrigle since 1977, when I picked up <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancer_with_Bruised_Knees" target="_blank">Dancer with Bruised Knees</a> at the record store at the University of Regensburg in Germany on a whim because I loved the cover.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAcssLXrMOitj9JZGmxCUBp769EmkRkv_DsRnUP9isETWNC8BwHQqLxhF0AVetwXopycirw5xKWkpbVPizvMTyj5NPv94w76WTpPxh670NkgtjQMwuplWRd_kqZgyXs_D_JO0RRs3zhryd5JVxhZDan_qP90yz41rE6Ol-b3Wtj5Bp8N7yxYo9FsuvZA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAcssLXrMOitj9JZGmxCUBp769EmkRkv_DsRnUP9isETWNC8BwHQqLxhF0AVetwXopycirw5xKWkpbVPizvMTyj5NPv94w76WTpPxh670NkgtjQMwuplWRd_kqZgyXs_D_JO0RRs3zhryd5JVxhZDan_qP90yz41rE6Ol-b3Wtj5Bp8N7yxYo9FsuvZA" width="246" /></a></div><br /><br /></span></div>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-59346911693535825082023-05-11T10:30:00.001-07:002023-05-11T10:30:14.259-07:00A moocher haiku<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlX044Gpk8YNXYJ7Q1HhlAYbAMA4ECdQ6j5yjy3cciojg7-DTCDWurDixptfbhov93lHjs9vcY_bmP3Tb_lqP73xQaaOI2vzVjZPTIEUucGz2S6eji-Fa2jnkOGD6it7fETjlGY8BQMR0d0XMiM7k4_GdY8Y7__-7MGZIRqAOmyynkzwwGBP4acrICOg/s768/starbux4-sg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlX044Gpk8YNXYJ7Q1HhlAYbAMA4ECdQ6j5yjy3cciojg7-DTCDWurDixptfbhov93lHjs9vcY_bmP3Tb_lqP73xQaaOI2vzVjZPTIEUucGz2S6eji-Fa2jnkOGD6it7fETjlGY8BQMR0d0XMiM7k4_GdY8Y7__-7MGZIRqAOmyynkzwwGBP4acrICOg/w400-h400/starbux4-sg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">A haiku and I<br />were having coffee at Star-<br />Bux. You pay! it said.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">– Leonard Blumfeld</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Painting by J. B. with a little help from Artifice. As can be clearly seen, the haiku is only present in spirit.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-76024897589255934942023-05-11T08:23:00.002-07:002023-05-11T08:23:13.992-07:00Balzac, Balzac<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/irez-t912QM" width="480"></iframe>
<div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-size: large;">“Balzac, Balzac ... that rings a bell. Wait – wasn’t he the gasman? Or the notary? Not sure which.”</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">An English-language take on Léo Ferré’s lyrics from <i>La vie moderne</i> (click on the video above to hear the chanson).</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">From the original French lyrics:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Quant à Balzac il s’y demande si</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">C’est un gazier ou un notaire</span></div></div><div><br /></div>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-4349354987238366882023-04-27T10:19:00.002-07:002023-04-27T10:19:42.350-07:00Seamstresses bent over sewing machines<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZQzE1PgviJ9GhEvf7rHreTgLkE2LMbFzDqKea0V2_VR0Cv9-nZAqDQIFDC0GjpCha_4feq79kkavJm56LKtNvgZ3EF0Bj4V2ZbnhmkCEXSH63SJ0Nv8JPrmvPSZFTSNeo-baQpds8xm80Y53iJ38z3aYPrtpxn1TCcwxD5oRjadsuaXWWUhOe8j66Bw/s1280/seamstresses-sg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZQzE1PgviJ9GhEvf7rHreTgLkE2LMbFzDqKea0V2_VR0Cv9-nZAqDQIFDC0GjpCha_4feq79kkavJm56LKtNvgZ3EF0Bj4V2ZbnhmkCEXSH63SJ0Nv8JPrmvPSZFTSNeo-baQpds8xm80Y53iJ38z3aYPrtpxn1TCcwxD5oRjadsuaXWWUhOe8j66Bw/w400-h400/seamstresses-sg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>AI art is a hot item in the crypto art collection scene and currently creates an enormous amount of hype. To investigate this hoopla a little bit myself, I went to one of the online generators that can be used to create such <i>art</i>.</p><p>You enter a text description, press the GENERATE button and wait for the piece of art to emerge on the screen in front of you.</p><p>The prompt I entered for the masterpiece above was “Portrait of a seamstress bent over a sewing machine”.</p><p>What I got from the machine was – lo and behold! – not only one but two seamstresses and two sewing machines.</p><p>While this idyll looks quite realistic in its 19th-century charm, you will notice some interesting anomalies when you take a closer look. Three of the hands, for example, are disfigured and/or have missing or superfluous fingers, and there are two fingers to the left of the front sewing machine that do not originate from any hand.</p><p>Did the artificial intelligence decide to play a trick on me because I did not pay for its services? </p><p>We shall never know.</p><p>– Yours artificially, Leonardo Blumfeld</p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-913510414755339962023-04-23T06:41:00.004-07:002023-04-23T06:41:57.551-07:00Las palabras y los días<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwAXuWoWrHsVm4A6zwWpoCj9NNaKD17VjKXdobDzYGXrZcGk7O9XI2gm-QsatkrOMbjUC_jqdsv3gwSVCsDiW8nMbh_osZFaug33cpkgHplf_Ni5nA6pWgmU8igm26guQ4UDBD0aR6bHvbt5cpMNrtbe7Xa35VyMQHGpI7hj6phzLqrttOPhXylt5zw/s2067/Paz-Las-palabras-1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2067" data-original-width="1280" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwAXuWoWrHsVm4A6zwWpoCj9NNaKD17VjKXdobDzYGXrZcGk7O9XI2gm-QsatkrOMbjUC_jqdsv3gwSVCsDiW8nMbh_osZFaug33cpkgHplf_Ni5nA6pWgmU8igm26guQ4UDBD0aR6bHvbt5cpMNrtbe7Xa35VyMQHGpI7hj6phzLqrttOPhXylt5zw/w397-h640/Paz-Las-palabras-1280.jpg" width="397" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">También<br />hay unos días<br />sin palabras</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">– Leonardo Blumfeld (© 2023)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Nota</b><br />Hoy me he metido en vena castellana, inspirada por el libro de Octavio Paz con el título arriba.</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529301117709724878.post-61270636730155816242023-03-28T01:20:00.001-07:002023-03-28T01:20:34.430-07:00Bullet Train (American Action Comedy, 2022)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzdXff53DzRLrx09aEEohpnuZps9ctuLS_v_-JQAD78rm9PPnnX6NqGtLCu6Q5Y9lcZ-_TBYjguEc61oqMg2dI_XKX5m7asiL9yc8PUnfkJtYx_MEzjCupBs85g6EWBnvUj5mWQcS9WBNP0gKergowmK20lR4NLCNYP3VzrRfDhfR6svXzY0nvvFr7A/s831/bullet-train-2022-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="831" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzdXff53DzRLrx09aEEohpnuZps9ctuLS_v_-JQAD78rm9PPnnX6NqGtLCu6Q5Y9lcZ-_TBYjguEc61oqMg2dI_XKX5m7asiL9yc8PUnfkJtYx_MEzjCupBs85g6EWBnvUj5mWQcS9WBNP0gKergowmK20lR4NLCNYP3VzrRfDhfR6svXzY0nvvFr7A/w400-h226/bullet-train-2022-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><h1 style="text-align: left;">Bullet Train</h1><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">A solid bore<br />of blood and gore</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The two lines tell it all in a nutshell. This 2022 Brad Pitt starrer and <i>Kill Bill</i> derivative is to be recommended if you like to spend 127 minutes of your time listening to incessant claptrap about fate and karma, including shrink advice about good and bad luck from the voice of Sandra Bullock (who fortunately remains mostly unseen), yawning at endless twists and turns cropping up at every bend of the railroad track towards Kyoto and watching lots and lots and lots of blood and gore inflicted in the most various ways. Hallelujah! Another masterpiece delivered by stars desperately trying to hang on to past glory.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Photo above (still picture from the movie): Brian Tyree Henry as Lemon (one of the highlights, has some truly funny moments)</span></p>World So Widehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03080438999368983042noreply@blogger.com0