“Having your book turned into a movie is like seeing your oxen turned into bouillon cubes.” - John LeCarre
Films made from novels can be a real mess, especially if the novel is one you have enjoyed reading very much. It is seldom that a novel can give rise to a good movie, but I have seen some such films, proving that if the sensitivity is there, a film-maker can do justice to the author. The film we watched last weekend was an interesting concept, which was a film based on a novel, which novel was based on six other novels. Highly derivative, and here I am writing about it, adding yet another layer on top of everything.
Authors have always been inspired by other authors and novels have inspired other novels. Quite fashionable in the last few years are “reading group novels”, where the novel revolves around a group of people who take part in a book club that discusses a new novel every month. I recently read one by Elizabeth Noble called “The Reading Group”, which was rather soppy and not worth bothering with. Before that I read “Reading Lolita in Tehran” by Azar Nafisi, which was much better, and quite enjoyable. Now this film based on a book I haven’t read (nor do I wish to read, now that I have seen the film), the book being “The Jane Austen Book Club” by Karen Joy Fowler.
The film of “The Jane Austen Book Club” was made in 2007 by Robin Swicord, who also wrote the screenplay. Let me warn you, this is a classic “chic flick”, which is all about a group of six Californians who get together to discuss Jane Austen’s novels, one a month for six months. There are five women and one man, all at some crisis point in their lives and all identifying with characters and plots out of Jane Austen’s books. Although there are references to Austen’s novels in the film, even if you haven’t read the novels you can follow the film and I promise it won’t spoil your reading of Austen.
There is a lot of talking in the movie – a couple of witty lines, but also a lot of plain old gas-bagging. Some of the characters are very unlikeable and although the acting is good, the plot is quite trite and the ending gratuitously out of fantasyland. The characters the actors portray are very shallow and there is little genuineness in the film, whether it’s turns in the plot, depth of characterisation, or even a token tragic ending for one of the couples (in the film they all end up deliriously happy).
It was pleasant enough to watch, but I would not watch it again, nor would I recommend it highly to anyone else to watch, unless it’s on cable and you have 106 minutes to kill. I guess it was a bit like a soap opera, brain junk food – of little nutritive value but moderately toothsome at the time of consumption. Some of the excellent film adaptations of Jane Austen’s novels would be better to watch and infinitely more enjoyable.
I wonder if anybody reading this has read the novel from which the movie was made? Perhaps you can tell us about it, whether it was better than the film…
John William Godward (9th August 1861 – 13th December 1922) was an English painter from the end of the Pre-Raphaelite/Neo-Classicist era. He was a protégé of Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema but his style of painting fell out of favour with the arrival of painters like Picasso. He committed suicide at the age of 61 and is said to have written in his suicide note that "the world was not big enough" for him and a Picasso. His already estranged family, who had disapproved of him becoming an artist, were ashamed of his suicide and burned his papers. No photographs of Godward are known to survive.
This is his painting “In the Days of Sappho”. Most of his paining are on ancient themes and his style is meticulous, richly coloured and based on an idealised vision of antiquity.
Sometimes we try to please too many people at once and all we manage achieve is our own misery. The peacemakers amongst us know this all too well, and the rich store of proverbial wisdom has to say that “he who tries to stop a fight receives the most blows”. Such was the day today and the music encapsulates my mood.
It is Eleni Karaindrou’s “Adagio”. Eleni Karaindrou was born in the mountain village of Teichio in central Greece and grew up in Athens where she studied piano and theory at the Hellenic Conservatorium. From 1969-74 she studied ethnomusicology in Paris and, on returning to Greece, founded the Laboratory for Traditional Instruments at the ORA Cultural Centre. She has since been an active campaigner on behalf of Greece’s musical resources. Karaindrou has a long history of writing for film and theatre; to date, some 18 feature films, 13 plays and 10 television series have featured her music. Although most of her work has been with Greek directors she has also collaborated with Chris Marker, Jules Dassin and Margarethe von Trotta. Eleni Karaindrou has been associated with Greek director Theo Angelopoulos since 1982.
“All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are beautiful: but the beauty is grim.” - Christopher Morley
Every morning as I go to work, I try and walk as much as possible (weather permitting). I usually get off at Flinders St Station and then make my way to work, winding my way through the early morning hustle and bustle across the city. I go through the many alleys and laneways that like a labyrinth criss-cross the CBD. I walk through the maze and every morning I uncover hidden treasures and a charming atmosphere. Melbourne is very much a city of the Victorian era and many of the original 19th century buildings are still very much in evidence. The main city streets are grand and capacious, but behind them and between them, Melbourne's north-south laneways are renowned for their intimacy, sense of intrigue, convenience and visual charm. They weave an eccentric and chaotic pattern across a city better known for its wide streets and regular grid pattern. Many of the laneways have been upgraded with new bluestone paving and street furniture, but they are all a living, wonderful part of my home city.
Usually by 7:00 a.m. as I walk through, there are many cafés, bakeries, eateries and small restaurants that are open for the breakfast trade. I enjoy smelling the aroma of the freshly roasted and ground coffee, the lovely rich smell of toast and fresh bread, the pungency of bacon and eggs and the occasional musty whiff of an open cellar door leading to gloomy depths below street level. The delicious scent of vanilla and hot waffles is a particular favourite of mine as I walk by one the little Belgian eateries on Desgraves St. Melbourne’s coffee culture surrounds one in the laneways and arcades with street cafés and funky coffee shops around every other corner. Expensive art work in shop windows mixes with public art on the streets and further along, great swathes of graffiti on the walls.
The arcades are also another wonderful feature of the city and these range from the magnificent Royal Arcade and Block Arcade (the latter housing the historic Hopetoun Tea Rooms, dating back to 1893, where one may enjoy scrumptious tea and cake) to the more modern shopping arcades filled with every manner of shop. One of the best ways to take in Melbourne’s laneways is to lunch alfresco at one of the many delightful eateries. Hardware Lane, Centre Place, Block Place, The Causeway, Desgraves Street and lanes either side of the Chinatown strip all offer a great outdoor experience. Melbourne rightfully has the reputation of being the home of the best restaurants in Australia and if you are a foodie and visiting Australia, Melbourne should be high on your list of places to see.
Later, in the evening one may have dinner at one these wonderful restaurants and if you would merely drink, tucked away in many of Melbourne’s laneways are also numerous bars. You can find them on Meyers Place, Bennetts Lane, Bullens Lane, Sniders Lane and Market Lane. However, Melbourne’s laneways wouldn’t be complete without the opportunity to shop, but the shops in the laneways and alleys are one-of-a-kind. No K-marts and department stores here, just tiny shops that sell anything and everything, stocked with unique items, be they clothes, shoes, gifts, art, or simply zany, crazy objects.
Here is a YouTube video on Melbourne’s laneways, especially so discussing the Public Arts projects involving the city’s laneways.
“Christmas is not a date. It is a state of mind.” - Mary Ellen Chase
As we approach Christmas, it is interesting to note why December 25th was chosen to mark the anniversary of the birth of Jesus Christ. Christmas had its origins in older festivals that marked a very special time of the year: The winter solstice. The word solstice came into Middle English from Old French, from the Latin solstitium. This is a compound of sol- (sun) and -stitium (a stoppage), so the word means “the sun stands still”, reflecting the time when the Sun apparently stops moving north or south and then begins moving in the opposite direction.
In every year, there are two solstices. In the northern hemisphere, the June solstice happens when the Earth’s north pole is tilted its maximum amount towards the Sun. The December solstice happens when the north pole is most tilted away from the Sun. Thus, the June solstice is the day with the most sunshine, and the December solstice has the longest night. The opposite is true in southern hemisphere, with the winter and summer solstices in June and December respectively.
In each year, there is also an equinox in March and another in September. These days are the times when the night is as long as the day. This is reflected in the word's Latin root, aequinoctium, from aequi- (equal) and nox (night). In the northern hemisphere, the vernal (spring) equinox is in March and the autumnal (fall) equinox is in September, with seasons reversed once again in the southern hemisphere.
The time when the Sun is brightest and the days are longest is the summer solstice, near June 21st in the northern hemisphere. Yet the hottest days of summer usually come in July or August, when the days are shorter and the Sun is lower in the sky. Winter’s coldest days also lag the solstice by about two months. Why? When the sunshine maximum comes in June, the landscape and atmosphere are still warming from the winter's chill. Although the Sun begins to lose strength after the solstice, there is still enough heat to continue warming the landscape until the balance shifts about two months later.
In the days after the winter solstice, although the Sun’s heat is returning, it is still not warm enough to keep the landscape from cooling further, especially during the night. It is not until early March that the balance of solar heat and night-time cooling shifts into a warming trend.
The Winter solstice is also known as Yule, and this is a major Wiccan holiday. Many religions have placed the birth of their solar hero gods and saviours on this day: Jesus, Horus, Helios, Dionysus, and Mithras all claim Yule as their birthday. Since this day also represents the point at which the sun begins to wax, it represents rebirth and regeneration in the Wiccan tradition. Aptly, therefore the word of the day is:
Wicca |ˈwikə| noun The religious cult of modern witchcraft, esp. an initiatory tradition founded in England in the mid 20th century and claiming its origins in pre-Christian pagan religions. DERIVATIVES Wiccan |ˈwɪkən| adjective & noun ORIGIN representing Old English wicca [witch.]
“Human beings love company even if it is only that of a small burning candle.” - Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
This morning as I was walking to work I saw a street woman asleep on a bench. Her clothes were torn and dirty and she too looked as though she had not washed for many days. Her hair was unkempt and grey, tangled in heaps around her head, and although her face was worn and prematurely aged, I could tell it had once been beautiful. I could think of a hundred reasons why she had ended up in this state with all her belongings in a couple of bags and wearing all the clothes she possessed. Somehow, the reasons did not matter, what mattered was her solitary state in amongst the three million people of this city. Nobody to worry about her, none to talk to her, not a single person out there to love her? How does our modern society alienate some people like this? And yet, even the rest of us, with friends, family, loved ones, how often is it that we feel alone?
Solitude
I wear my solitude like an old shirt, Faded, almost threadbare, But still possessing the comfort Born of long habit.
I taste my solitary ways like a dragée, Whose sugar coating beguiles Unwary taste buds, till the Enclosed almond turns bitter.
Alone, I hear my heart beating Amplified like raindrops on tin roof, Or an expert solo drummer, Executing a cadenza.
My singularity is perfume of violets, Intense and overwhelming; But so soon evanescent: The scented becoming scentless.
Why is loneliness such a dreadful And unwelcome guest, when For so long, solitude has been one’s Most faithful companion?
“Perhaps imagination is only intelligence having fun.” – George Scialabba
It is Arthur C. Clarke’s birthday today and he was born in 1917. He died in March this year at the age of 90 years after a long battle with post-polio syndrome. He was one the most famous of science fiction writers whose pragmatism and cool logic could be seen in even his most fanciful works. He denigrated religion as “a necessary evil in the childhood of our particular species” leaving written instructions that his funeral be completely secular. “Absolutely no religious rites of any kind, relating to any religious faith, should be associated with my funeral,” he wrote.
As well as writing science fiction, Clarke was a visionary who wrote more than 100 books on space, science and the future. The 1968 story “2001: A Space Odyssey” (written both as a novel and screenplay with director Stanley Kubrick – see yesterday’s blog), was a frightening prophecy of artificial intelligence run amuck and it shot him into international fame. When Clarke and Kubrick got together to develop a movie about space, they looked for inspiration to several of Clarke’s shorter pieces. As work progressed on the screenplay, Clarke also wrote a novel of the story. He followed it up with “2010,” “2061,” and “3001: The Final Odyssey.” “2010” was made into a film sequel. In 1969 Clarke was the co-announcer in American television’s coverage of the moon landing, making him an instantly recognisable face across the globe.
Clarke is credited with the concept of communications satellites in 1945, decades before they became a reality. Geosynchronous orbits, which keep satellites in a fixed position relative to the ground, are called Clarke orbits. His nonfiction volumes on space travel and his explorations of the Great Barrier Reef and Indian Ocean earned him respect in the world of science, and in 1976 he became an honorary fellow of the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics.
His last novel, “The Last Theorem” was co-written with Frederik Pohl, another famous sci-fi author) and is the swan-song in a long and distinguished list of brilliant creativity: Some of his best-known books are “Childhood’s End” (1953); “The City and The Stars” (1956); “The Nine Billion Names of God” (1967); “Rendezvous with Rama” (1973); “Imperial Earth” (1975); and “The Songs of Distant Earth” (1986). Clarke's legacy in the movies may well continue after his death, with a film adaptation of “Rendezvous with Rama” having been in development for years, with actor Morgan Freeman as producer and star.
Real-life space exploration of space followed in the wake of Clarke’s fiction. After the first moon landing in 1969 (an event predicted by Clarke decades earlier) NASA Administrator Tom Paine said in an inscription to the writer that he “provided the essential intellectual drive that led us to the moon”. Clarke's 1979 novel, “The Fountains of Paradise” helped spark the real-world efforts to build a space elevator from Earth to orbit. The idea is still being pursued, even though its realisation may still be decades away.
Clarke was born in Minehead, western England, the son of a farmer, Arthur Charles Clark became addicted to science fiction after buying his first copies of the pulp magazine “Amazing Stories” at Woolworth’s. He read English writers H.G. Wells and Olaf Stapledon and began writing for his school magazine in his teens. Clarke went to work as a clerk in Her Majesty’s Exchequer and Audit Department in London, where he joined the British Interplanetary Society and wrote his first short stories and scientific articles on space travel. It was not until after World War II that Clarke received a bachelor of science degree in physics and mathematics from King’s College in London.
Serving in the wartime Royal Air Force, he wrote a 1945 memo about the possibility of using satellites to revolutionize communications. Clarke later sent it to a publication called Wireless World, which almost rejected it as too far-fetched. He moved to Sri Lanka in 1956. In an interview with The Associated Press, Clarke said he did not regret having never traveled to space himself, though he arranged to have DNA from his hair sent into orbit. “One day, some super civilization may encounter this relic from the vanished species and I may exist in another time” he said. Clarke enclosed with his DNA, a handwritten note that read “Farewell, my clone”.
“Rendezvous with Rama” is one of my favourite of Clarke’s books. It is set in the 22nd century, the story involves a forty-kilometer-long cylindrical alien starship that enters Earth’s solar system and is hurtling to the sun. The story is told from the point of view of a group of human explorers, who intercept the ship in an attempt to unlock its mysteries. I first read the book when I was a young and impressionable high school student and then again more recently. It is a book full of solid science and is essentially the blueprint for a starship that can be built by earthlings for travel in interstellar space.
“The miracle is not to fly in the air, or to walk on the water, but to walk on the earth.” - Chinese Proverb
I watched Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey” (1968) again recently and was surprised at how little my appreciation of this film had changed over the years. One may have expected it to be dated and look “clunky”, however, as a vision of the future it retains a certain freshness, even though the high technology depicted is slightly antiquated. Nevertheless the film is visually rich and makes for rewarding viewing even on an abstract level, independent of the story. I was watching it rather amused as it was often described as the ultimate movie to watch on a “drug trip” – it is certainly one that stretches time and through images and music can create a heightened state during a drug-induced euphoria. Kubrick takes a great risk in attempting to capture beauty on film – whether this is an arid African landscape, a moonscape, deepest space or a depiction of the falling through a time/space discontinuity. The film is slow and builds up gradually to the climax, which is interrupted by an almost irrelevant episode of the likes of a psychological thriller.
The film has as its theme the evolution of mankind. Several million years ago some hominid apes live an animal-like existence until they encounter a rectangular black monolith that causes them to evolve into the next stage of development. Closer to the present time, the same type of mysterious monolith is discovered buried under the surface of the moon. This is the stimulus for the next stage of human development involving interplanetary travel and dependence on computers. The middle part of the film involving the mission to Jupiter and the interaction of one of the spacemen, Dave, with Hal the villainous computer is the main recognizable cinematic “plot” of the movie. It is a sparse story but directed with masterly aplomb by Kubrick. The last part of the movie concerns the interaction of Dave with yet another black monolith that heralds the next stage of human development – the space child.
The film is ground-breaking in several important cinematic ways. Its use of slowly building climaxes (which may irritate many). The use of classical music in some beautiful image sequences that serve no purpose except to cajole us into a sense of cultural appreciation of the art of movie-making. The overlapping stories linked by the common monolithic theme. The almost Hitchcokian middle part of man versus machine. And the final self-indulgent psychedelic trip that heralds the postlude of a conclusion to the film that may be misunderstood by many. The mystery surrounding the monoliths is never resolved in the film, but that an alien intelligence is responsible for them is indisputable. This contribute to the overall awe-inspiring nature of the film and contributes to the constant sense of apprehension that mounts to terror as the film winds to a close.
This is the science fiction film par excellence. A great achievement of a great director, perhaps his greatest film. When one thinks of what was being made Hollywood in 1968, one is amazed by the foresight and vision of Kubrick, truly one of the great directors.
“To kill a man is not to defend a doctrine, but to kill a man.” - Michael Servetus
We live in interesting times and that reminds me of the Chinese curse: “May you live in interesting times”… Interesting because of the worldwide upheavals, economies in crisis, wars, terrorism, massive population shifts, climate change, social inequity, crumbling governments, people running amuck. Yet, ours are not the only interesting times, the history books are full of similar epochs with numerous crises and awful turmoil. It’s just that I would have thought humanity had learnt a little form past mistakes and a simple reading of history would have had a sobering effect. But who bothers to read history anymore?
The painting for this Sunday is Hieronymus Bosch’s “The Temptation of St Anthony”, a work full of terror and apprehension. Illustrative perhaps of some past “interesting times” or prophetic of the present ones.
Bosch, Hieronymus also known as Joen or Jeroen van Aken was born about 1450, in 's-Hertogenbosch (Bois-le-Duc) in the Netherlands and died in 1516. The painting above was painted around 1505-1506 and is oil on panel, 131.5 x 53 cm (central panel), 131.5 x 53 cm (side panels, each). It now hangs in Lisbon, in the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga.
The complete triptych depicts the Flight and Failure of St Anthony (left wing), Temptation of St Anthony (central panel) and St Anthony in Meditation (right wing). In the works of northern masters, the realistic landscapes of Italian painters are transformed into fantasy-scapes in which anthropomorphic forms mix with imaginary ones. These often accompany the usual Christian motifs, like a temptation of Saint Anthony, representing a weird mixture of legend and pure imagination. Bosch was remarkable in his choice of subject matter that allowed him to indulge his bizarre sense of the grotesque and the fantastic.
“Mine is the night, with all her stars.” - Edward Young
For Song Saturday, a song by Italian Singer/Songwriter Franco Battiato. A little reminiscent of a space opera, the lyrics suggest a science fiction scenario where interstellar travel has just become possible and humanity is beginning to colonise deep space. Although upbeat and hopeful, this song has a mixture of curious unease and a little melancholy as well. One is also intrigued with the poor captain of the third verse who will be exiled for unknown reasons…
Milky Way
We awoke even before dawn broke, Ready to board an artificial satellite, That would take us quickly To the gates of Sirius Where an experimental group Was preparing itself for a long voyage.
We, from the neighbourhood of the Little Bear, Are preparing to conquer interstellar space; And we dress in light grey, So as not to get lost. We follow certain diagonal routes In the Milky Way…
A captain of the central agency Educated to exhaustion Will quickly come to be exiled… I prepared myself for the long voyage. In which one may lose oneself. We follow certain diagonal routes In the Milky Way…
“To change one's life: Start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions.” - William James
One of the duties that I have to attend to as the Festive Season draws closer is to host various Christmas parties and formal dinners that we organise in order to thank our staff for their contributions to our organisation during the past year. Today I have been in Brisbane, mainly in meetings all day and then this afternoon the final College Council meeting for the year. This was quite a large meeting with much business and it went on for over two hours. At the end of it I was quite out of breath and sounding a little hoarse as I had done much talking. This meeting was followed by a dinner in one of Brisbane’s fine restaurants at the Emporium Centre close to the City, adjacent to the new Emporium Hotel in Fortitude Valley.
The restaurant we went to was “Buzz” which is a comfortable, unpretentious, almost café-style restaurant. It nevertheless has class and a quiet appeal. The restaurant serves contemporary Australian food where the multicultural influences that have shaped Australia mix with modern touches and classic dishes from various parts of the world presented in a fresh way.
There were about a dozen of us and the service was rapid, with good attention to detail and staffed by experienced and discreet waiters. The décor and ambience were relaxed and sophisticated, with no pretentious overtones. The restaurant was busy enough but not overcrowded or noisy and we sat outside in the gloriously balmy evening under the almost full moon.
We sampled all three courses on offer and everyone was very pleased with the quality of the food. I was particularly pleased with my choices: For entrée I chose the porcini mushroom arancini, accompanied by exotic mushrooms and watercress velouté. The arancini were slightly overcooked, but they tasted delicious. The wild mushrooms, especially, were very good. For my main course I had the eye fillet steak, truffled mash, asparagus, semi-dried tomatoes with raisin and onion jam. I always have my meat well done and this can often result in a slightly dry portion. However, this was the best well-done eye fillet that I have had for a long time. The mashed potatoes were delicious and the asparagus were cooked to perfection. I wasn’t too impressed with the raisin and onion jam, but it was mainly because I like my sweets served separately to my main courses. The dessert was baba au rhum with poached pear and citrus cream and fresh strawberries, a little dry, but otherwise very tasty. The strawberries were ripe and sweet, a perfect counterfoil to the rich dough of the baba.
We had the Toolangi Reserve Chardonnay for the Yarra Valley in Victoria with our entrées and the Firegully Cabernet Merlot from Margaret River in Western Australia with our main course, both wines being excellent. At $90 per person, we found the meal and service quite good to excellent.
The highlight of the meal was the conversation with cultured, educated people where the topics varied from current affairs, politics and educational matters to travel, family, art, music, theatre and topics pertaining to our work (of course!). The convivial atmosphere of the end of year celebration was tinged with a little sadness for me. This always seems to temper my sentiments on such occasions and no matter how a good time I have there is always a sweet melancholy in the background that helps to make the happy occasion even more vivid, just as in the brightest most sunlit days of summer, the shadows seem to lend a special brilliance to the highlights. I can’t exactly explain it, or maybe I could but don’t want to talk about it.
In any case the evening was most enjoyable and was a happy and successful conclusion to a year’s of hard work. A small price to pay in order to express our gratitude to these people in the community and sister tertiary institutions that give up their time in order to sit in our Council meetings and contribute to the good governance of our College.
Enjoy the weekend! Do it now, utilise fully the essence of the good inherent in your life; the future is promised to none.
“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.” - William Shakespeare
For Word Thursday today:
lunatic |ˈloōnəˌtik| noun A mentally ill person (not in technical use). • An extremely foolish or eccentric person: This lunatic just accelerated out of the side of the road. adjective mentally ill (not in technical use). • Extremely foolish, eccentric, or absurd: He would be asked to acquiesce in some lunatic scheme. ORIGIN Middle English: From Old French lunatique, from late Latin lunaticus, from Latin luna ‘moon’ (from the belief that changes of the moon caused intermittent insanity).
The full moon shines outside the window tonight and its silvery sharp arrows penetrate through layers of curtain to impale themselves on flooring, bedding, hapless limbs that are in the way. Luna, the moon goddess, a manifestation of Diana the virgin huntress. Luna lent her name to the ancient belief in the power of the Moon to make us mad. Modern studies have associated full Moons with everything from extra insanity to traffic accidents. But the connections have been thin. Perhaps the most well-founded human relationship to the lunar cycle is the menstrual cycle of many women. Some studies have found weak associations to increased aggression, unintentional poisonings and absenteeism. But other studies have contradicted these findings.
In recent investigations looking at animal aggressiveness, one study showed that animal bites were found to have sent twice as many British people to the emergency room during full Moons compared with other days. But the other study, in Australia, found that dogs can be pretty nasty on any given day irrespective of the phase of the moon. Both studies were published in a recent issue of the British Medical Journal. So whom do we believe?
The answer may have something to do with climate, weather and human activity as a result of the influence of the full moon on people’s mind. In Britain the weather is less clement than in Australia, and people are confined at home more (and hence safe from dog bites). In Australia, the weather is kinder and people tend to lead more outdoor lives, full moon or not (and hence more exposed to dog bites). As the full moon tends to attract more people outside, and in Britain they tend to go out more during the full moon nights compared to the rest of the time, and hence they run a greater risk to be bitten around the full moon night. In Australia people go out more, interact with dogs more on any night and hence get bitten on any night, whether the moon is full or not.
I think that there may be an element of truth in the moon-lunacy connection. If the moon is powerful enough an influence to cause tides of the earth’s oceans, surely it must have some influence on the watery substance of our own bodies. There are many things that happen around us and in our own bodies that we still have no explanation for and the influence of the moon on our bodies and minds is one of these. Until we know, here are some known facts about the moon:
The moon is the only natural satellite of the Earth.
It revolves around our planet from West to East at a mean distance of about 384,400 kilometres (239,900 miles).
The Moon is less than one third the size of the Earth.
It has a diameter of only about 3,476 km (2,160 mi) at its equator.
It is only 1/81 as massive as the Earth and has a density of roughly 3.34 grams per cubic centimetre as opposed to 5.52 for the Earth.
The moon shines by reflected sunlight, but its albedo (the fraction of light received that is reflected) is only 0.073.
Its brightness varies through its cycle of phases primarily because of the roughness of its surface and the resultant variable amount of shadow.
The Moon rotates about its own axis in 29.5 days, which is identical to the time it takes to complete its orbit around the earth. As a result the moon always presents nearly the same face to the Earth.
On July 20th, 1969 Apollo 11 landed on the moon with Neil Armstrong and Edwin E. Aldrin on the desolate lunar plain known as the Sea of Tranquillity.
“He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster.” - Friedrich Nietzsche
The events in Athens still prey on my mind and they join other similar acts of violence and desperation around the globe that float in my brain like vultures. Humanity is becoming inhuman and we rush to our own destruction, like moths around a flame. My poem today was inspired by these fiery visions and is not a happy one… Revelation
And then the beast awakens, stirs, It shakes and bellows loud, Yelps, cries, like a hundred curs; And even if shielded by a shroud, Its eyes still burn with fury bright.
The beast awakens and it crushes All resistance; logic is slain. Death in its wake; blood gushes, Plague, famine, panic, bane Will cause the loss of light.
Black scrawny birds of sorrow fly, And shrieks of misery resound; The beast is quick, draws nigh With claws clutched all around A bloody sword that’s black as night.
Its footsteps leave a wake of fire, Pain, fear, agony, tears, doom. Repentance too late, the hour dire, The sun has died, all is a-gloom; The earth has sickened in its plight.
The beast moves fast, destroys, Its purpose deadly as was prophesied; Chasms gape open, an infernal noise, As earth is gashed, as cities subside, And terror reigns wedded with fright.
The beast within us stirs, it wakes, And years of calmness, reason, die. The demon that’s inside of us, shakes, Our civilised existence to defy.
How easy in a moment’s fury to annihilate, What took a century or two to build. We kill the angels, holy things do desecrate All that is innocent and pure, is killed.
Fire, sulphur, tar, mire, brimstone, blight, We’re tortured by the demons that we liberate. Wisdom wiped out, light gives way to night, Apocalypse comes from within, such is our fate.
“The keenest sorrow is to recognise ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.” – Sophocles
It is with horror and disgust that I watch the news from Athens these past few days. During the previous couple of years, there has been an ever-increasing accumulation of explosives in the tinder box that is Greece: A volatile political situation, high unemployment, chronic disgruntlement with social and economic policies, inflation, high prices, low salaries, influx of illegal immigrants, unchecked crime, numerous scandals in government and church, the world economic crisis… The spark that set off the explosion of the recent riots was the killing of a 16-year-old boy by a policeman last Saturday in Athens. Alexandros Grigoropoulos was fatally shot by a police officer in Athens’ Exarchia district close to the Athens Polytechnic University after hurling stones at police at night. How the shooting occurred is unclear, but the two officers involved have been arrested; one has been charged with murder and the other as an accomplice. A coroner’s report shows that the boy was shot in the chest. The officers claim that the bullet ricocheted before hitting the boy.
The episode was the catalyst for widespread rioting, not only in Athens, but in most major cities around the country. Gangs of youths smashed their way through central Athens and Thessaloniki on Sunday and Monday. Shops, banks, apartment buildings and even luxury hotels had their windows smashed and burned in a night of anarchy and lawlessness as youths fought running battles with riot police. In Crete, Larissa, Chios, other towns, similar violent protests occurred. The increasingly unpopular Karamanlis government has been criticised as being a weak and powerless observer in these vicious demonstrations. Burning barricades, flames and clouds of smoke were mixing with tear gas used by police. Molotov cocktails joined flying stones and debris as they converted the centre of Athens into a battle zone.
The news relayed live and non-stop by the Greek satellite TV channel have created shock waves around the world amongst all ranks of the Greek diaspora. No doubt, this contributed to demonstrators entering and taking over the London and Berlin Greek embassies. They raised banners of support and the black-and-red anarchist flag. Most rational and civilised people whether Greeks or not abhor such acts of unrestrained fury and revolt. There is little public support for street violence or wanton destruction of property amongst Greeks, but within the Greek psyche there is a tolerance for demonstrations, and the right to protest is held in high esteem.
Anarchists are blamed for late-night fire-bombings of targets such as banks and diplomatic vehicles, which occur regularly in Athens, but these attacks rarely cause injuries. The anarchist movement traces its roots largely in the resistance to Greece’s 1967-74 military dictatorship and the small groups of “known-unknowns”, as they are called since they sport balaclavas, are behind most violent protests. The anarchists tend to support anti-capitalist and antiestablishment activities, and have long-running battles with police, which represents for them everything that they hate.
In the wake of the riots, over 30 police officers and riot police members have been injured. Millions of euros of damage has been done. Greece’s reputation as a stable democratic country has been further sullied. The message that is getting through to the international community is that it is a country of barbaric savages that respect no law, no common human decency, no code of civilised society. The images that have been transmitted to the word’s TV screens are full of savage, mindless acts of mass hysterics. These are no children of Socrates or Plato, but rather bands of animals that are bent on mindless destruction and brutishness. The episodes of genuine demonstrations over a heinous act have been overshadowed by acts even more vicious. Blatant disregard for law and order, wholesale destruction and damage to property, looting and violence for the sake of violence.
It is heart-breaking to see what was once a beautiful, peaceful city (and yes, maybe I am stretching it, as I refer to the Athens of my childhood of the early ‘60s) now becoming a shambles. A burnt out shell of a once great civilisation. A shadow of its former substance. What more can I say? Perhaps a song can sum up my feelings:
Αθήνα (1978) (Χρήστου Γκάρτζου, Σώτιας Τσώτου)
Ξέρω μια πόλη που η άσφαλτος καίει Και δέντρου σκιά δεν θα βρεις… Μεγάλη ιστόρια, προγόνοι σπουδαίοι, Λυχνάρι και τάφος της γης.
Θυμίζεις Αθήνα γυναικα που κλαίει Γιατί δεν την θέλει κανείς. Αθήνα, Αθήνα, πεθαίνω μαζί σου, Πεθαίνεις μαζί μου κι εσύ.
Ξέρω μια πόλη στη νεά Σαχάρα Μια έρημο όλο μπετόν Οι ξένοι στόλοι, λαθραία τσιγάρα, Παιδιά που δεν ξέρουν κρυφτό.
Θυμίζεις Αθήνα γυναικα που κλαίει Γιατί δεν την θέλει κανείς. Αθήνα, Αθήνα, πεθαίνω μαζί σου, Πεθαίνεις μαζί μου κι εσύ.
Ξέρω μια πόλη στη γη της αβύσσου, Κουρσάρων κι ανέμων νησί. Στης Πλάκας τους δρόμους Πουλάς το κορμί σου για ένα ποτήρι κρασί.
Θυμίζεις Αθήνα γυναικα που κλαίει Γιατί δεν την θέλει κανείς. Αθήνα, Αθήνα, πεθαίνω μαζί σου, Πεθαίνεις μαζί μου κι εσύ.
I know a city where the asphalt burns, Where you won’t find a tree to shade you. Great history, even greater ancestors, Light of the world, grave of the world.
Athens, you remind me of a woman crying Because nobody desires her; Athens, oh Athens, I die with you, You die with me too.
I know a city in the new Sahara, A desert made of concrete. Foreign fleets anchor there, contraband cigarettes, Children who do not know how to play hide-and-seek.
Athens, you remind me of a woman crying Because nobody desires her; Athens, oh Athens, I die with you, You die with me too.
I know a city in the country of the abyss, An island home to pirates and wild winds. In Plaka’s neighbourhoods You sell your body for a glass full of wine…
Athens, you remind me of a woman crying Because nobody desires her; Athens, oh Athens, I die with you, You die with me too.
“Fiction reveals truths that reality obscures.” - Jessamyn West
Well, my computer is fixed - it turns out that there was a problem with software conflict after I downloaded an update for one of the programs I usually run every now and then, but which was not suited to the latest version of the system. The good news is, I even didn’t have to pay a repair bill (how good is that this day and age), and I lost no data! Nevertheless, the little incident served to remind me: Backup, backup, backup…
For Movie Monday today a film we watched over the weekend, which not only was very funny but was also poignant and quite confronting in parts. It was Frank Oz’s 2007 film “Death at a Funeral”. This is a British film with elements of classic English comedy mixed with a fast-moving French farce. The film explores some taboo topics relating to sexuality, death, religion, drugs, family, but does so in quite a light-handed manner. The language is slightly blue (unnecessary “f…” this and “f…” that) but one can overlook this shortcoming and concentrate on the dark humour.
The plot centres on Daniel, a young man, married to Jane, who still lives in the rather aristocratic family home with his parents, in the English countryside somewhere. When Daniel’s father dies, Daniel has to organise the funeral. He tries to do everything with as much dignity and decorum as befits the occasion, but fate has other ideas. There is a funeral director who makes a terrible mistake, the arrival of Daniel’s famous but selfish brother from the USA, his cousin's fiancé who has been given some drugs accidentally, a moron who lusts after the cousin, a handicapped and crotchetty old uncle and a mysterious dwarf whom nobody knows. And all this only in the first twenty minutes!
Matthew Macfadyen and Keeley Hawes do a sterling job of playing Daniel and Jane, while the remaining actors are extremely well-cast also and support the action admirably. The film won the audience awards in two film festivals (Locarno International film Festival and US Comedy Arts Festival) and overall manages to push the right buttons at the right time. The trailer for the film is available on YouTube.
I would recommend the film for a good laugh, but also be aware that there some scenes that would shock some people and the “colourful” language, I have already mentioned. Adult themes are depicted, so be warned this is an adult film, but quite a lot of fun. The 90 minutes pass by very pleasantly indeed.
“Were it not for music, we might in these days say, the Beautiful is dead.” - Benjamin Disraeli
Sometimes a few notes of a song half heard while one is rushing past another car on the road, or when one changes radio station, a few fleeting notes, can bring back with great strength memories of the past. Vivid images that one thought were forgotten are quickly resurrected. A snatch of melody, that someone hums in the street, a few mumbled words of lyric are enough to rekindle old flames amongst the ashes. Music speaks to our soul and the only way for us to answer is with our heart. When our heart sings, the melody will cause our brain to raise a white flag, defeated…
The Child in the Truck
The streets, empty and cold. The morning, grey and cloudy. The leaves of yesterday’s paper Waltzing with the wind on wet asphalt, While bleary-eyed the newspaper boy Sourly announces a newer version of the news.
And I, serene, relentlessly introverted Listen to your rhythms Leaving your melodies to wander aimlessly In the deserted alleyways of my mind. Your verses loiter, lingering In room after room of grey matter Proselytising from my memory images, Pale, faded, ideal…
“Oh, my precious urban loneliness, Grey-dressed, frigid sister, How slowly you unravel round me! You unsex yourself, And in your newly muscular grip You tighten your wily snares To entrap me.”
Bathed in the wan, grey morning light That tiny child looks feebly, wide-eyed Through the dirty window of the truck. And in the stark beauty of waiting He sits alone, abiding The inexorable loss of innocence.
I have been distressed these past few weeks by news items that I hear from all over the world that seem to have a common theme: Infanticide. It seems that there is an epidemic out there of babies being killed, most often by their mothers, soon after they are born. Is it a sign of the times, I wonder, these new Medeas appearing all over the world confirming the wholesale madness that is gripping humanity?
One of the stories I read concerned tribal women in Papua New Guinea who used infanticide as a way out of endless internecine feuds. They kill their male babies and thus reduce the number of warring males in the next generation. Male infanticide on a mass scale was the obvious way for these women to cope with the bloodbath they were immersed in. All the women folk had agreed to have newborn babies killed because they have had enough of men engaging in tribal conflicts and bringing misery to them.
Heinous though this may seem, there is a reason to the infanticide: Violence to end violence. A sacrifice to peace, gruesome though it is. Desperation will drive people to the edge of reason. If surviving was almost impossible and getting food was hard, as husbands kept fighting and mothers and children were left to fend for themselves, what else could the womenfolk do to stop the warring tribes? Male infanticide reduces the cyclical pay back violence infamous in Highlands tribal fights.
Last year the “baby in the freezer” occurence in Pittsburgh rocked America. A 22 year-old woman put her newborn baby in a plastic bag and then a brown bag and froze it in a beer box in her freezer. According to a police affidavit, the mother Christine Hutchinson told police she gave birth to the girl on April 22 2007 and did not call medics or police, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reported.
In a similar case, this year in Germany three frozen babies were found in a household freezer. Today a German mother has been sentenced to more than four years in jail for killing two of her babies whose bodies she stashed in the family freezer. She was not tried in connection with a third baby, also found in the freezer, who died over 20 years ago because the statute of limitations on the case had expired. The 44-year-old housewife, Monika Halbe, who was handed a four year and three month prison sentence for manslaughter, had admitted to hiding the bodies of three baby girls in the family freezer, but had denied killing them. In the macabre case that has made national headlines, it was the defendant’s teenage son who had discovered the girls’ tiny corpses in plastic bags in May when looking for a pizza in the basement freezer. The grim case revived a debate about the state of child welfare in Germany after several high-profile cases of killings by mothers came to light.
In an incident also this year, a 14-year-old girl gave birth to a full-term baby in a school bathroom and then tried to flush it down the toilet, killing the infant, police in Texas said. The occurrence at Cedar Bayou Junior High in Baytown, Texas, came just three days after another 14-year-old girl delivered a stillborn baby in the toilet of an aeroplane on her way back to Houston from a school field trip. The Harris County District Attorney's office decided not to pursue charges against the girl on the plane, who disposed of the body in a rubbish bin. The students and their chaperones were returning from New York aboard a March 30 2008 Continental Airlines flight. Houston homicide investigators interviewed both the girl and a 14-year-old boy believed to be the father. The girl, whom authorities have not identified, told police she did not know she was pregnant. Preliminary autopsy results indicated the baby was stillborn and not viable, police said. The plane landed at Bush Intercontinental Airport on a non-stop flight from New York's LaGuardia Airport. A cleaning crew found the body inside a wastebasket in the toilet of the plane about 15 minutes after it landed.
These are young girls we are talking about, old enough to experiment with sex but irresponsible and young enough not to be careful about sexually transmitted diseases and the risk of pregnancy. Young enough to panic about the consequences of a pregnancy and of giving birth under those circumstances. However, this is not only something that happens to the young and immature, as the next item shows.
Claire Jones a 32 year-old woman in Wales, told an inquest she did not know she had given birth until she started flushing her baby down a toilet by accident. She became pregnant after an affair with a work colleague but hid her condition from friends and family. After “panicking” in the toilet at her partner’s parents’ home, she hid the baby in her car boot, where police found it. Cardiff Coroner Mary Hassell said Ms Jones had built up a “web of deception”. The hearing was told Ms Jones did not reveal her pregnancy, telling friends and family, including David Stoneman, her partner of 11 years, that a wheat allergy had caused a hard mass to form in her stomach.
But on 28 December 2007, a week after her due date, she experienced pains, which she put down to diarrhoea. She told the inquest: “While I was still on the toilet, I flushed it, and I felt something pull. I stood up slightly, and I could see a foot in the bowl of the toilet.” She said the baby was underneath the water covered in toilet paper. “I could see the baby's foot, so I pulled the baby out. “I sat by the toilet. I put him on my lap. He wasn’t crying. I was trying to feel for a pulse and there was nothing.” Ms Jones was asked why she did not call for help. She said: “Because nobody knew I was pregnant. Because he wasn't breathing, I just panicked. I didn't know what to do. I wrapped him in a towel. I don’t remember how, but I must have put him in the boot of the car.”
The inquest heard Ms Jones was arrested 10 days later at the home in St Mellons, Cardiff, she shared with Mr Stoneman, and Daniel's body was found in her Vauxhall Astra car. She said she planned to leave Mr Stoneman, and her work colleague Marcus Bezerra, who was aware of the pregnancy and had bought items for the baby in preparation for his birth. When asked why she did not leave Mr Stoneman before the baby was due, she replied: “Things had got in such a mess with the two relationships. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I just messed everything up.”
The coroner said Ms Jones had manufactured “a tissue of lies” and dismissed as “beyond belief” Ms Jones' claim about not knowing if she had given birth. Ms Hassell continued: “It is impossible to know if Daniel would have survived if Ms Jones, who had her mobile telephone with her in the toilet, had called for help. The house was full of people who, I have no doubt, would have rushed to her aid. She did not seek medical attention for herself or for her baby. If Daniel was stillborn, it is not possible to say why he did not survive. If he was born alive, the most likely reason for his death was drowning in the toilet bowl.”
The extremes of irresponsibility in these days of selfish pleasures seem to involve sad cases like these. We have lost our dignity and our respect of life. That most sacred of bonds, that of mother and child, is being degraded and corrupted. How can we explain this apparent spate of child killings? Is it really a sign of our times? Careful investigation of the evidence suggests otherwise. Infanticide ha been practiced since ancient times and is still widespread in many societies around the world. In China and India infanticide of female newborns is still common practice (as is abortion of female fetuses).
What drives a mother to kill her child? Is it hardness of circumstances or hardness of heart? The mother with the hardest of hearts who slew her children was Medea. According to Greek myth, she killed her children as revenge against her unfaithful husband, Jason (of Golden Fleece fame). The term “Medea syndrome” derives from this legend. The following factors represent examples of both hardness of life and hardness of heart causing infanticide.
Human sacrifice is one of the earliest recorded forms of infanticide. Archaeological evidence indicates that prehistoric children were sacrificed to the gods. By offering a valued possession to the gods, humans have long attempted to appease a deity. What more valuable than a newborn child?
Poverty, famine, and population control are inter-related factors. Where safe and effective birth control was unavailable, infanticide was used to selectively limit the growth of a community. Infanticide allowed for selection of the fittest or most desirable offspring, with sick, deformed, female, or multiple births targeted for disposal.
Female infanticide is a problem rooted in a culture of sexism throughout antiquity. In many cultures girls have little value. Even when female children were not killed at birth, their needs were neglected, particularly if limited resources were needed to ensure the survival of male offspring.
Deformed or defective newborns have been disposed of by most cultures across the ages. From an evolutionary standpoint, parents decide whether to invest their energy in raising a deformed or sick child that may not survive to perpetuate the family lines.
Illegitimacy is another factor leading to infanticide through the ages. To avoid shame and censure, women have secretively disposed of illegitimate babies since early Roman times. Illegitimacy and poverty are the most common reasons for infanticide in the twenty-first century.
Finally, superstitious beliefs regarding children and childbirth contributed to the practice of infanticide. In many cultures, twins were believed to be evil and were promptly killed. In some tribal societies, twins of the opposite gender were believed to have committed incest in the womb and were condemned. In some cases only one twin was killed. Other superstitions involve unlucky days of the week, breech presentations, the presence of baby teeth at birth, or atmospheric conditions during birth. Ignorance, fear, and legend have contributed to the deaths of infants throughout the ages.
More recently, especially in developed countries the psychological status of women who have just given birth has been examined and post-partum depression and other psychological states in the post-partum period have been described. Legal debate centres on the use of post-partum depression as a legal defence in infanticide (homicide) cases. The American Psychiatric Association first recognised post-partum depression (PPD) in 1994. Since then, American courts have begun to recognise PPD as a legitimate defence, although it has rarely been used successfully. Approximately 20 percent of all new mothers experience PPD, a serious and lasting depression. One out of every thousand new mothers will experience psychotic symptoms including delusions, hallucinations, and incoherent thinking. Because British law has long assumed that mothers who kill suffer from mental illness, British doctors treat PPD aggressively and British courts rule with more leniency than American courts. Many researchers suggest that the United States should follow the British approach.
When I was confronted by these news items in a short period of time, I had a very visceral and immediate emotional reaction. My first thought was abhorrence and revulsion. However, the more I think about it and the more I investigate the matter, the more complicated it becomes. The reasons why parents choose to destroy their offspring defy simple explanation. In the past, harsh conditions, lack of effective contraception, unavailability of abortion as an option for ending an unwanted pregnancy and lack of information may have contributed to the problem. In modern times many of these reasons have disappeared, but human nature has remained the same and this continues to drive infanticide rates. Are these parents who practice it unfortunate, uneducated, immature, evil, selfish, or mentally ill? Perhaps the answer lies in a combination of these explanations. Understanding of the multiple causes of infanticide can only lead to better means of prevention.
“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.” - Winston Churchill
Today, 1st of December, is World AIDS Day. This year’s theme is “Lead – Empower – Deliver.” Designating leadership as the theme provides an opportunity to highlight both political leadership and celebrate leadership that has been witnessed at all levels of society. It is only through effective leadership that empowerment of victims can occur and delivery of solutions to this widespread world problem can be attempted. In first world countries HIV infection has disappeared from the headlines as more effective treatments for the disease became available in 1996 with the synthesis of protease inhibitors. Such drugs, on the other hand, are not readily available to AIDS sufferers in developing countries, allowing AIDS to reach alarming rates there.
Acknowledging the significance of World AIDS Day internationally, my Movie Monday review is dedicated to a classic 1993 film, Jonathan Demme’s “Philadelphia”. At the time it was released, this film was a landmark in the fight against the social marginalisation that AIDS-affected people had to cope with during a time that treatments did little to curb the fatal inevitability of the disease. The film was a powerful exposé of mindless prejudice, irrational fear fired by misinformation and the triumph of reason and the meting out of natural justice for our fellow human beings in need.
The film concerns Andrew Beckett, a gay lawyer infected with HIV and who is starting to develop symptoms of AIDS. He is fired from his conservative law firm when it becomes known he has AIDS as they fear they may contract the disease from him. Andrew sues his former law firm with the help of Joe Miller, a homophobic lawyer. A court battle ensues, and during its course Miller sees that Beckett is no different than anyone else who has been unjustly treated. He manages to control his homophobia and manages to help Beckett fight for his cause.
The film has several high points as well as a powerful and gripping story. Tom Hanks as Andrew Beckett and Denzel Washington as Joe Miller give performances that are a recital of top class acting. Tom Hanks rightly won the Oscar for Best Male Lead in 1994 for this film. The other Oscar went to Bruce Springsteen’s song “Streets of Philadelphia” for the Best Song and Original Music. The direction by Demme is faultless and the gritty, dark theme is brought into amazing chiaroscuro by the inspired cinematography of Tak Fujimoto. In fact, it is very hard to fault this film, which creates a tremendous tour de force all in support of basic human rights.
World AIDS Day gives us the opportunity to reflect on a variety of issues that beset the world in these early years of the 21st century. The fragility of our planet as we tackle the idea of climate change on a global level, drives home the message of our own species’ fragility. We are our own worst enemies as we live our life spending our energy on mindless hate. How easy it is to stick together in tightly knit little cliques, clans, castes, conclaves, subgroups and hate everyone else different from us. How easy it is to attack with fervour anyone who does not resemble us in terms of sexual preference, politics, ideology, religion, race. How easy it is to victimise the weak and the dispossessed…
HIV is still with us today, despite the billions of dollars spent of research. Prejudice is still rife, social stigmatization of minorities still occurs. Religious hatred still inspires violence of frightening proportions. Differences in ideology still motivate acts of sickening terrorism as the recent events in India exemplify. We carry on for centuries, blissfully unaware of the germination of the seeds of our destruction. We must shake ourselves and awake from this stupefying slumber that is causing us to repeat mistake after mistake…
“A seed hidden in the heart of an apple is an orchard invisible.” - Welsh Proverb
For Art Sunday today, a painting by South Australian Artist Richard Baxter (born 1966).
This is his painting, “With Roots Above and Branches Below”, for which the artist says the following:
There is a tree, the tree of transmigration, the Asvattha tree everlasting. Its roots are above in the highest, and its branches are here below. Its leaves are sacred songs, and he who knows them knows the Vedas. Its branches spread from earth to Heaven, and the powers of nature give them life. Its buds are the pleasures of the senses. Far down below its roots stretch into the world of men, binding a mortal through selfish actions. Men do not see the changing form of that tree, nor its beginning, nor its end, nor where its roots are. But let the wise see, and with the strong sword of dispassion let him cut this strong rooted tree, and seek the path wherefrom those who go never return. Such a man can say; “I go for refuge to that eternal spirit from whom the stream of creation came at the beginning.” Bhagavad Gita. Chapter 15, verses 1-4.
“Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.” - Russell Baker
In the 1960s in Greece a group of young university students got together and started off a whole new music movement in Greece, which they called the “New Wave”. This was in reference to the “Nouvelle Vague” of French cinema, popular then. The sounds of the Greek New Wave were fresh, simple, genuine, full of emotion and easy to listen to. These songs have become classics their interpreters and their composers having become very famous indeed: Yannis Spanos, Kaiti Homata, Mihalis Violaris, Popi Asteriadi, Lakis Pappas, Yannis Poulopoulos, Arleta, Yiorgos Zografos, etc, etc.
Here is one of these songs, composed by Yannis Spanos, lyrics by Yorgos Papastefanou an sung by Kaiti Homata.
Μια Αγάπη για το Καλοκαίρι
Μια αγάπη για το καλοκαίρι θα’ μαι κι εγώ, Να σου κρατώ δροσιά στο χέρι να σε φιλώ. Θα μ’ αγαπάς σαν καλοκαίρι και σαν παιδί, Μα θα μου φύγεις με τ’αγέρι και τη βροχή.
Μια αγάπη για το καλοκαίρι θα’ μαι κι εγώ, Να σου κρατώ δροσιά στο χέρι να σε φιλώ. Και σαν χαθεί το καλοκαίρι και σε ζητώ, Θα μείνει μόνο ένα αστέρι να το κοιτώ.
Και σαν χαθεί το καλοκαίρι και σε ζητώ, Θα μείνει μόνο ένα αστέρι να το κοιτώ…
A Love for Summer
All I’ll be for you is a summer love, To keep your hand cool, to kiss you. You’ll love me like summer, like a child, But when the rain and wind come, you’ll leave me.
All I’ll be for you is a summer love, To keep your hand cool, to kiss you. And when summer is over and I’ll look for you, All that remains will be a star that I look at.
And when summer is over and I’ll look for you, All that remains will be a star that I look at.
I have been blogging daily on this platform for several years now. It is surprising that I have persisted as the world is changing and "microblogging" is now the norm. I blog to amuse myself, make comment on current affairs, externalise some of my creativity, keep notes on things that interest me, learn something new and to surprise myself with things that I discover about this wonderful, and sometimes crazy, world we live in.
I sometimes get the impression that I am on a soapbox delivering a monologue, so your comments are welcome.
