Thursday, September 10, 2026

It happens every day


No matter what you say.


PS - Suddenly reminded that I used to snap my fingers in class to demonstrate timing signals (Physical Layer stuff), then would bust out into the first couple verses of this song.  Yeah, I draw on multiple disciplines in my teaching tech.

frangere

Breakage:

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred—
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It's like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
       full of moonlight.

Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.

Mary Oliver.

#throwbackthursday

That tree is in high school now. (2019)

Wednesday, September 9, 2026

Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern...


You have to look past his little marble goolies.

E allora noi vili

“And then we cowards”:

And then we cowards
who loved the whispering
evening, the houses,
the paths by the river,
the dirty red lights
of those places, the sweet
soundless sorrow—
we reached our hands out
toward the living chain
in silence, but our heart
startled us with blood,
and no more sweetness then,
no more losing ourselves
on the path by the river—
no longer slaves, we knew
we were alone and alive.

Cesare Pavese. 

Happy Bug Day

Phoning it in today:

The Harvard Mark II, also known as the Aiken Relay Calculator, was an electromechanical computer built under the direction of Howard Aiken at Harvard University, completed in 1947... 

The Mark II is also known for being the computer with the first recorded instance of an actual bug (a moth) disrupting its operation. The insect was extracted from the machine's electronics and taped to the log book, with the note "first actual case of [a] bug being found", on September 9, 1947. 

Speaking of bugs, I ran into one trying to upload the picture of the original bug.  So here's a link to it, since I can't seem to embed right now, lol.

Tuesday, September 8, 2026

Dona nobis pacem


Premiered on this date in '71 as part of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts opening (commissioned by Jacky).


PS - Is it just me, or does this sound like the child of Carmina Burana and West Side Story?

A Staccato Bup-Bup-Bup

Thrushes:

Tossed on the glittering air they soar and skim,   
Whose voices make the emptiness of light   
A windy palace. Quavering from the brim   
Of dawn, and bold with song at edge of night,   
They clutch their leafy pinnacles and sing   
Scornful of man, and from his toils aloof
Whose heart's a haunted woodland whispering;   
Whose thoughts return on tempest-baffled wing;   
Who hears the cry of God in everything,   
And storms the gate of nothingness for proof.

Siegfried Sassoon.

David's Birthday Suit

Saw David when I was in Florence back in '95 with my girlfriend.  It's pretty fucking amazing.  Anyway, this very naked man was unveiled on this date in 1504.

To mark the occassion here's Philomena Cunk giving us some deep analysis:

If you manage to look past his little marble goolies, you'll notice there's an incredible amount of detail all over the rest of Michelangelo's body. His eyes have pupils in them like a Furby does. 

His muscles are really detailed. Look at his abs. They prove gyms are bullshit because they didn't have gyms back then, but look how toned he is. Then there's the realistic veins in the back of his hands, carrying statue blood to his fingers. 

Yet, despite all this attention to detail, a quick inspection of his back half reveals he doesn't have an anսs. It's a baffling omission. Maybe the sculptor got embarrassed or the model had to leave early that day, or didn't actually have an anսs. We just don't know.

Happy birthday, buddy.

Monday, September 7, 2026

If I Know Mister Gould


To thine own self be true.

There Is Always Hope

Want:

When I was twelve, I wanted a macaw
but they cost hundreds of dollars.


If we win the lottery? I asked.
Macaws weren’t known to be great talkers,


but they were affectionate.
Yes, my mother said. If we win the lottery.


I was satisfied, so long as it wasn’t impossible.

The macaw would be blue.

Gretchen Marquette.