Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep
He hath awakened from the dream of life
Stones in the Park, Rolling Stones Hyde Park 1969
Picture credits: Wikipedia
This, the Lead Picture Today, Saturday, July 6, 2019, on the blog –
existentialautotrip.com
See ‘Thumbnail’ below for further description of image.
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Commentary
Saturday, July 6, 2019
Yesterday we published a piece, From Howard’s Laptop, Howard, among many other accomplishments, a music-of-every genre buff. In it, Howard asked how I came to include Cecile Chaminade, composer, artist, in a prior posting.
To answer that in that place would have taken too space and I didn’t want to compete for our bloggers’ attention, a competition I was certain to lose.
So I respond herein, in my space.
After 450 posts it’s obvious that the commentaries and references within existentialautotrip are totally random, interesting to thoughtful people, and out-of-box.
Random in the selection.
We go through a day and encounter a thousand stimuli.
Any of them encase a thought or experience that might work as part of the blog.
That is selected which at a precise moment triggers a relationship with a part of me near my consciousness as to cause a “Oh! What’s that?” Or “Oh! That sounds like…” with a follow-through of immediate writing or deeper research.
Everything interests me.
From children’s readings, to the Confederacy of Dunces to Julia Child’s My Life in France to Deadwood, the movie and the TV series.
Every topic finds its way to these pages at one time or another.
Stimulated by a picture, a headline, a conversation.
And always out-of-the-box because I see things from a perspective uniquely mine.
Not that others don’t have unique perspectives.
Nor that others don’t know how to cook.
But my perspectives appear to be a measurable click apart from most, as my cooking seems to be appreciated a little more than other cooks’.
To specifically answer Howard’s question, “I don’t remember how Cecile entered my head.”
And the exigencies of getting out the next blog thwart any scholarly interest in that question.
Here she is.
Read it.
Respond.
The hours are ticking away and if we don’t make the most of our time another day will soon click past.
Unnoticed.
Unappreciated.
Tick Tock.
In clock language:
Enjoy today.
Enjoy the week.
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Tracking Postings – Tracking Time
Friday, July 5, 2019
Our 456th consecutive posting, committed to 5,000.
After 456 posts we’re at the 9.24 percentile of our commitment, that commitment a different way of marking the passage of time.
Time of posting is 12.01am on Friday.
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Chuckle of the Day:
Saturday, July 6, 2019
A woman found herself standing at the Pearly Gates.
St. Peter greeted her saying, “These are the Gates to Heaven, my dear. But you must do one more thing before you can enter. Spell a word, any word, that has meaning to you.”
“Then the word I will spell is love. L-O-V-E.”
St. Peter welcomed her in asking her if she would mind taking his place at the gates for a few minutes while he took a break.
She agreed and some time later a man walks towards the gates and she realizes it’s her husband.
What happened to you?” she cried.
“I was so upset when I left your funeral, I got in an accident.” She knew her husband; knew he was lying.
“Did I really make it to Heaven?”
“Not yet,” she replied, “You must spell a word first.”
“Any word?” he asked.
“Czechoslovakia.”
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Today’s Thumbnail
Saturday, July 6, 2019
The Stones in the Park was a free outdoor festival held in Hyde Park on 5 July 1969, headlined by The Rolling Stones in front of a crowd estimated at between 250,000 and 500,000 fans.
Fans started to arrive at the park with candles on 4 July in tribute to guitarist and band founder Brian Jones who had died just two days earlier.
By the morning of 5 July, 7,000 people had already gathered.
Before the Stones opened their set, Jagger addressed the crowd, asking them to be quiet so he could read something as a tribute to Jones who had died just two days prior.
He then read two stanzas of Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem on John Keats's death, Adonaïs, from a calf-bound book.
Picture Credits:
Portrait of Shelley, by Alfred Clint (1829)
After Amelia Curran - one or more third parties have made copyright claims against Wikimedia Commons in relation
Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats, is a pastoral elegy written by Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1821, and widely regarded as one of Shelley's best and most well-known works.
The poem was composed in the spring of 1821 immediately after 11 April, when Shelley heard of Keats' death (seven weeks earlier).
Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep
He hath awakened from the dream of life
’Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings. — We decay
Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
Convulse us and consume us day by day,
And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
Until Death tramples it to fragments. — Die,
If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
Follow where all is fled!
After this recital, several hundred cabbage white butterflies were released,
Love the Mick.
I keep the playlist of that concert.
Signed by the entire band.
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Good Morning on this Saturday, the sixth day of July, 2019
Our lead picture illustrates the convergence of the arts: rock and roll and poetry.
It ties into today’s thumbnail: details of the day of the Stones concert where Mick read a stanza of Shelley’s “Adonais.”
The commentary answered the ‘how’ any piece gets included in the blog each day.
We posted the Boston weather report, the ticking calendar, and the growing number of posts as a calendar marker.
And we posted a heavenly chuckle.
We posted a chuckle re: two cows.
And now? Gotta go.
Che vuoi? Le pocketbook?
See you soon.
Your love.
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