Ramsayings

Fur­saxa — First Uni­tar­i­an Chapel, 4/17/2006

I’ll reserve com­ment­ing too much on this per­for­mance since said com­men­tary is already spo­ken for, but Fur­saxa proved as mes­mer­iz­ing as I’d heard. Her per­for­mance com­pris­es lay­ered iter­a­tions of loops and delay. As the notes decay and are renewed, the sound is one of addi­tion and sub­trac­tion — with each vari­a­tion there’s a game of attri­tion to be played, viz. which sounds remain and which are removed. It’s a dex­trous exer­cise in drone, the sort of thing that makes music like this inter­est­ing to me.

Con­tin­ue read­ing “The Lord is in this place…How dread­ful is this place?”

Hur­ry. It’s not a chimera; he’s a ghost. [via Pound for Pound]

From Dave Kehr’s New York Times review:

Is “Mr. Arkadin” a bril­liant piece of pre­post­mod­ernist “appro­pri­a­tion,” recy­cling past achieve­ments into a Welle­sian meta-movie? Or is it just a mess, reflect­ing the dif­fi­cul­ty Welles was expe­ri­enc­ing as he tried to restart his failed Amer­i­can career in Europe?

Isn’t the word for pre­post­mod­ernist just mod­ernist?

Con­tin­ue read­ing “I am Har­ry Lime.”

In case you did­n’t know, I’ve been select­ed for Philebri­ty Fit Club thus can­celling my mem­ber­ship to The Seden­tary Life Affil­i­ates, a fra­ter­ni­ty to which I’d clung lo these six years, trans­fer­ring mem­ber­ship from New York to Pennsport.

So as not to bog down Black­mail Is My Life with a dai­ly account­ing of food­stuffs, run­ning, sundry aches and the phar­ma­col­o­gy that keeps it all togeth­er, I’ve launched with a great mea­sure of Pennsport Pride This Sport­ing Life at Myspace. Vis­it there if you’d like to keep tabs, but I’ll prob­a­bly include a week­ly link every Sat­ur­day through June 17th, accom­pa­nied by a pic­ture of these new sneak­ers as they endure more wear and tear.

From New York Times:

“I thought he han­dled his assign­ment with class, integri­ty,” the pres­i­dent said. “It’s going to be hard to replace Scott, but nev­er­the­less he made the deci­sion and I accept­ed it. One of these days, he and I are going to be rock­ing in chairs in Texas and talk­ing about the good old days.”

Ari Berman com­ments. Some­where, Calvin Coolidge chuckles.