I wrote something today that might fit the definition of "reel"--but hey, I'm not exactly sure...
It sounds halfway Irish, and a bit like the Southern Harmony songs I've heard as well--oh, who knows?
Anyway, I do know a real reel that I can play. Now I need to learn the "Sweets of May," 'cause:
He played a reel, and he played a jig--he played the Sweets of May
This song is a song I'm writing via that Finale Notepad thing. It's a collection of four "airs"--"Emptiness", "Wish", "Mountain" and "Rain". You can play 'em on the whistle (like I am in this picture), or, like I have it in FN, violin with piano. Or, I suppose it could be whistle with piano. Anyway, it's a very pretty thing, I think, but it is perhaps not very good.
Emptiness: During a long drought, a wetlands area by Mt. Rainier that had once been a lake--it's a lake once more--was almost completely dried up. It was just haunting and it was oddly and weirdly beautiful--though I would have taken the lake any day.
Wish: And there just hasn't been enough rain--and snow--in the mountains. So the wish is that the rains will come.
Mountain: And, towering above it all--the highest peak in Washington State (though not in the country or continent by any means!), Mt. Rainier.
Rain: And sometimes, it does indeed rain...
The title comes in 'cause there's a lot of deer on the way. It's like the second-best part of hiking (though I love water buffalo I would give them all for deer)
Saro
Forgot to mention that we went on a beautiful hike yesterday and what should we hear but whistling birds? There were two, calling back and forth, back and forth, one with decending notes, the other with ascending ones. It was amazingly pretty.
The only problem was that I had a cold and was feeling a bit more tired than usual. But it's very mild, and it's getting better. And the whistling birds...well, it's better than a lot of things, and I'd choose it over watching Star Wars, if I had a choice (up 'til today that wasn't saying much, today that's saying quite a lot!)
Farewell,
Pretty Saro
I bid you adieu...
Cultural literacy, cultural literacy. I got a bad feeling about this.
The day Daddy took a long time out shopping he came back with a DVD. It was: Star Wars IV: A New Hope. Looking at it, I quickly decided that the princess on the cover was ugly and why did we have this movie now, anyway. I'm not one for violent movies, lemme tell you about Thai previews! Anyway, we all of a sudden had this Star Wars movie. I'd heard of them both, and I did know that Darth Vader was the bad guy dressed in black with the weird mask. I also recalled that as a joke I put a Darth Vader mask on a person's head via Photoshop, but I'm not going to tell you who that was.
Enough said. Anyway, so we were going to watch it...just that one, not the Empire Strikes Back, which, number one, we don't have, and, number two, Mum thinks that I'd have a big problem with watching Darth Vader choke anybody else. (He chokes one guy in this one but I had my eyes closed) So we watched this one. For those of you who may not 'a seen it, I will not spoil it, but I will give a few details.
It starts out with this spaceship that's captured by the Empire, and it's a Rebel ship so they are really at odds. The Empire dudes capture Princess Leia, but not before she sends out this cute little robot thingy, a droid, with a secret message. He's accompanied by another droid that seems quite fond of him but also seems to be sort of "above" him. (Like: "don't give me that mission thing again, I don't want to hear about it" and stuff like that). So they end up on this planet where there is a farm boy, Luke Skywalker, who lives with his uncle and aunt. The uncle buys the droids, unknowing of who they are, and yet he doesn't seem real excited when Luke says that one of the droids bears a bit of a message for his original owner, Obi-wan Kenobi, and could the old hermit Ben Kenobi have any connection with this Obi guy? The uncle seems to be hiding something but he doesn't ever out with it. The next morning Luke and the droids go some place, and they come back to discover that the farm's been sacked by the Empire. So Luke decides to join the rebel cause (they found Obi-wan Kenobi and he filled Luke in).
So they get this Han Olo person to take them to the Alderaan system, where Obi-wan Kenobi (I'll just call him OWK, okay?) and then they find that Alderaan is...well, the Empire has this deadly space station, the death star, and from my blog title I will leave you to gather what happens. So, do they meet up with Leia? And do they get to stop the Empire and terminate the Death Star? That's the question of the movie. And who is hotter, any way, Luke, or Han Olo?
Anyway, cultural literacy isn't that bad. But could somebody please get me out of this garbage?
Saro
That little quote above is from "Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore". It's a great song. I sort of know how he feels. Except that it's not the same. I'm coming back. He wasn't, I don't think.
Anyway, it's got an upbeat tune, as do a lot of Irish songs. I love the wild wild Celtic music, but I absolutely used to abhor Turlough O'Carolan, because he wrote a lot of slow, lyrical pieces.
Now I've slowed down a bit, but I love to set pictures to music. And a jig will just set Tintin chases well.
Saro O'Stuart (okay, that's Scots Irish but I don't know if I'm part Scot or part Irish, so it doesn't matter).
Has anyone seen the news--I mean, I guess it was only west coast news...but Alaska Airlines seems to be in a lot of trouble...hm. It seems like every few weeks the Seattle Times has this news that some airplane thing happened (and it always seems to be about depressurization and luggage woes) and it always seems to be Alaska. I don't think a lot of those regularities are my imagination.
Just today there was another. I'd put in a link, but if anyone starts reading archives they have to eventually get a membership with the Seattle Times online. I mean, once the archives are a week old.
So exactly what is this to me--I mean, I'm here in China in a city where the only airlines is China Eastern (and we happen to be in Western China but we get China Eastern. Go figure)! Well, the problem is simply this. Our travel agent has set us up with Alaska when we fly from California to Seattle. I guess I can't complain because it's also funded somewhat by our organization...
But anyway, if you get a blog post about depressurization...hope that you don't get a blog post about depressurization.
Saro
Say, did you see him walking? it was early this morning
He passed by your house on his way to the coal
He was tall, he was slender, and his blue eyes so tender
His occupation was miner, West Virginia his home...
I know, it's a little late, but it was supposed to be for a school assignment--and it didn't fit the criteria. Oh, well. Here it is:
It's the time of the cold
And the time of the wind
The time for changing colors
Is here once again.
Short are the days
Pale light does fade
The time for changing colors
Is here once again.
For the autumn has come
And the summer has gone
The tree's rustling leaves
Come falling again.
Grass is so brown
Leaves fall far down
The tree's rustling leaves
Come falling again.
And the winter is soon
When the autumn is done
When the leaves are all down
And the branches are bare
Sing me a song
Night's growing long
When the leaves are all down
And the branches are bare.
Well, now autumn is here
And the winter's soon there
Come sit by the fire
And we'll sing the night through
Summer is gone
Winter is long
But come sit by the fire
And we'll sing the night through.
For the autumn has come...
1. Look: Tintin goes to the Neurologist.
It's a good article, really! But I'm posing you a question:
Is Tintin a person who doesn't age because of all these growth problems, or is he timeless?
But I think this is a fascinating article and if you like health science and all that, like I do, it is worth having a look.
2. Daddy downloaded a free application this morning, Finale Notepad 2004. It's so cool, and I can't wait to try it out. It's basically putting down a music score, you know, notes and all that, and then you can play it and make sure it sounds right. What I always dreamed of. It's better than MIDIs, because I like composing and seeing how my music looks...
3. KBCS has had a bit of trouble, with their online streaming. It's so annoying, and that way I missed the Old Country. oh, well, because I am not missing Folksounds! Folksounds is a very cool program and I am very bummed if I miss it. But things are getting better, and that is han hao!
Saro
Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no! My mother wants to read this blog! Guess I'll have to get all the complaining off the website...nah, that was a joke.
(Hint for mummy: please leave a comment. I haven't got any in a while. I can delete it so nobody reads it if you want...)
Saro (a.k.a. punkin)
The Lyrics
I like this song. I very much do. I am going to hunt for the tune. I know one song that has a bit of it in it, "Soldier's Round"--oh, dear. I don't know where to find the lyrics, darn it! Oh, well. "Soldier's Round" is a cool song put together by...oh, nuts, nuts, nuts, I don't know for certain, I think it's Daniel Dutton...and it's just got little excerpts from war songs. Very cool song. I unfortunately can't find the lyrics anywhere, and I'm not going to start trying to write them down. I'm terribly punctual about punctuation.
These are a couple photos of Seattle and Aunt Langenariza took them. Way to go, Aunt Langenariza!
Actually, come to think of it, I remember very little about that song...
This is a cool picture I did, it's of just me and my sister through the years then a paint effect in Photoshop.
I really ought to look up the words to "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" because I remember Peter, Paul and Mary doing that and it was just amazing. Yes, I'm back on the folk music kick.
You'll read more later. That's a promise. Saro.
This is me
This is me after I hit this painter effect button and it looks awful.
This I call "stupide", but it is actually kind of pretty.
And this is actually rather pretty. If it were of somebody pretty.
hope you like the photos, everyone
Saro
Believe it or not, I was asking this question a few months ago. Finally, I did a google search for her name and came up with this site: link
Talking to Holli yesterday made me realize that if my friends are reading this blog they might not know who Jean Ritchie is (I'm not even sure if any of my other readers knew). I hope that this website information is helpful to anyone who is getting hopelessly confused.
If you can access a recording of "Wintergrace" that is a beautiful song.
A time when the corn is all into the barn
The old cow's breath's a frosty white
The morn upon the fallow field
Doth silver shine.
...RED LETTER DAY!
Today we were all doggedly getting ready for a hike, up the "goat trail"--that's a really really hard trail that's only fit for mountain goats!
And then we got a call from some Americans who live out in the country on this big farm and they invited us to their place for dinner. There's a new family in town! And they have kids! One is twelve, which is one year younger than me, and a girl too. And she's taller than me! (no, sorry,--or, dwaybuchi--we have no pictures of us together so you can see). We're actually pretty funny-looking together--she's tall and thin, and blonde, and all that, and I'm pretty short and a bit dumpy...with darker hair. But apparently a lot of people think that Holli's sixteen, and I am fifteen. But we're really twelve and thirteen!
We-ell. We changed hikes to a shorter one, and then we sort of had a quick afternoon, so we could get to the place by...oh, five or so. We got there about five o'five.
And so we had fun. Holli says she saw the pig that we ate get killed. I think it is gross, but she thinks that it's okay. I probably would have stuck to the cabbage that was like what we had in Thailand, had I seen it. Not like I mind eating meat--I enjoy it--but I don't exactly want to see how fresh my meat is. Actually, probably a lot of our meat is really really fresh out here. So are the vegetables. Mmm, vegetables--hey, I wouldn't mind that more often.
And there was this really delicious thing and it came from the Dai restaurant by our place. Which is really cool.
Well, I had a great day, but I have to prop my eyelids open with sticks and I have a few things to do yet. Like read something. And I might as well look at my dad's blog.
Saro
Those long summer days when we climbed the hills o'er, to spend hours in the fields over Aran's wild shore...
Here is the Chinese road to Drumleman. I actually was pretty tired and crabby when I took that picture, but I knew it when I saw it! This was it! The picture that "said it all".
Have I told you this? We listen to music at bedtime. We'll pop in a tape and go to bed and usually we'll fall asleep during that. That worked in Seattle, too, only we used CDs--the Blackest Crow was my favorite! And "The Road to Drumleman" evoked pictures in my head--one of them was of this hill and this path leading up and down it, and maybe a couple people in the middle of the path and the road that wound--either to the sea or to a little cottage. I don't know. But maybe it was was something like this that I was thinking of. This is a picture of a portion of the area right outside Lone Valley--The big hill hill in there is Qi Shan, and the hill we are on is Ba Shan. And the rice paddies don't take the effect away, they make it greater. Anyway, "goodnight and joy be with you all."
Saro
This is the place I long for sometimes. But I do wish our renters well.
Not very many birds sing around here. There's a few ducks and some whistle birds singing. But not much.
I think putting out birdseed makes a difference. Outside the blue house, there is this cherry tree and we had a bird feeder. Pigeons on the grass, pigeons on the asphalt, pigeons on the roof, pigeons on the fence, pigeons in the stovepipe (that is not a joke. For ages we had that nest in there and it was pretty funny because you'd hear them cooing down at us!). And that was just the pigeons. There were chickadees, sparrows, juncos, crows, sparrows, Steller's jays, sparrows, and more pigeons. Oh, and there were also sparrows.
And they sang!. The chickadees would sing with their dee-dee-dees, the sparrows twittered, the juncos...well they didn't make any noise, the crows called out, "caw! caw!", and the Steller's jays scolded.
There's a song. It goes like this:
Down in some lone valley,It's there I got my name and my city name.
In a lonesome place,
Where the wild birds do whistle
And their notes do increase
Farewell, pretty Saro,
I bid you adieu
And I'll dream of pretty Saro
Wherever I go...
This is my friend Evonne. I've put the picture on here because she needs a picture online for her profile.
Susie and I found a wonderful new place to play! It's high up, and we must be very careful not to go too close to the edge. But despite that it is a perfect castle!!!
Honest, I don't have much to write. Nothing much is happening--except for school and daily chores. Nothing is interesting enough to write about, by any means.
Once I had an idea for a story about a young woman with an unusual name--one that wouldn't be easily forgotten, and held a note of intrigue, like...Victoria Landerville or something. Only it was shorter. Anyway, Vicki used to be somebody in the Middle Ages or the Renissance, but she found this time machine and accidentally came to the future. So she's in the Seattle phone books. Meanwhile, a redheaded villaness is also at work and changes her name from Jenny Williamson to Vicki Landerville and tries to get rid of the real Vicki and go back in time to get her inheritance--she has an inheritance. Anyway, so she goes to wherever Vicki's from in her own time machine, but Vicki follows with a crew of several--Whitney Marshall, a woman who likes Jewish music, Sarah Nelson, who is really into Hungarian music, Ludwig van Beethoven, who can't hear anything, Jake O'Connell, who is a Celtic musician, and his wife Janet O'Laughlin. And so they end up going back and fighting this Jenny person and go back to their homes.
But then. Jenny manages to get them all in a spaceship and take them back to Aztec times--just when there was no ruler, for the previous ruler had died. Convinced that she was some deity, the Aztecs make her their queen. Then she sets them all--including a young Aztec woman named Xena--to find her some chocolate. Or else they will become human sacrifices. So after a lot of adventures they get the chocolate and Jenny's plan foils up again.
Then, Jenny takes them back to the barbarians at the time of the Roman empire. Again, the ruler has just died, and, since red hair is a sign of power, they make Jenny their queen. But Janet overhears her plot to sell them all as slaves to a man who is notorious for killing slaves. She is selling them to the Romans in exchange for independance. So she and the rest flee to Britain, where they risk a bunch of dangers. They also have a native, but I can't think of a name for her yet.
Foiled again, Jenny finally goes to Vicki's country and locks her in a low cellar. Then she claims the castle that is righfully Vicki's. It's up to the crew to save her again, and Beethoven, despite his deafness, comes up with a marvelous plan.
All in all, it's stupid, but it's fun to do.
Saro
You can paste this into the import new song at the last link:
!tonepattern
(
( x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x------------ ) instra
( x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x------------ ) instrb
( x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x------------ ) instrc
( x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x------------ ) instrd
( x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x------------ ) instre
( x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x--------x----x----x----x----x----x----x----x------------ ) instrg
!reels
>Pad 4 (choir)
( instre ) comp
>Orchestral Strings
( instrf ) comp
>Choir Aahs
( instra ) comp
( instrg ) comp
>Church Organ
( instrb ) comp
( instrc ) comp
>Cello
( instrd ) comp
!composition
comp
I found this really really cool place online. Link: the Link
Go there, and, if you want an example of how this works, go to there and in one of the "music score" boxes enter the centered blue text.
Homesick
If it is possible to be happy one place
And miss another
Then it is possible to see one place in front of your eyes
Though you are walking in the other.
If it is possible to be walking the dusty dry streets
While walking along lamp-lit wet sidewalks,
Then it is possible to lie on a board and futon dreaming of rice paddies
While lying on a too-soft mattress dreaming of evergreens
If it is possible to go to a market and buy fresh produce
While buying canned beets,
Then it is possible to play among bamboo
While playing among a bunch of cold-weather plants.
If it is possible to love one place
And love another
Then it is possible to sing of both
And never forget either.
Come on a ride on the 36 bus with me.
Follow a Dream
Driving through a greenspace
Crane your neck, look back
Look up at that hill when the sun hits just right
Follow a dream.
I used to think it was like a hill in the alpines,
Only lower,
So that when you climbed up you'd come to the endless grassland.
Perhaps an old rusty tennis court and a few areas that were once shorn.
I used to think that if I followed it long enough
I'd reach the world's end.
The end of my world,
Where the beginning of the next would be plain.
I used to think it was where the rainbow used to end.
A scar on the forested ground...
Wa it perhaps some road to some fantastical city?
Or perhaps a road that would wind,
Wind
Wind
To the sea.
Driving through a greenspace
Crane your neck, look back
Look up at that hill when the sun hits just right
Follow a dream.
Chinatown
Chow mein.
Chop Suey.
Dancing.
And the building, old as the Goon building in the heart of things,
Advertises a long-gone attraction.
Bright dragons climb on lampposts--
Among outdoor markets and ginseng shops
And Sichuan restaurants
New Kowloon Seafood Restaurant.
Kowloon--nine dragons, written neatly and elegantly upon signs.
Broad Street Lawn
They said the Klezmer band was going to be here.
And they were.
And the people were climbing on the orange sculpture
And lines of dancers were dancing Jewish dances.
And the music captivated us.
"Broad Street!" the driver calls, and through the rainy windows
A glimpse of emerald green and brilliant, wet orange
Is all that is left of the memory
As I glimpse the Seattle Center.
They said the Klezmer band was going to be here.
And they were...only they switched the line-ups at the last minute.
And the clouds were moving, and the Space Needle towering,
And I said, "Is that falling?" as a joke
And she said, "Well, I hope not!" and we laughed.
"Broad Street!" the driver calls, and it's May
They're setting up booths and pavillions
And a memory will become one with reality in a week.
And I can't wait.
End of Day
It's the end of the day
And the sun is Midas, touching everything
For a minute.
The bus pulls up to the silent street corner
And we get out
Long thin shadows trail us.
It is silent, but for the robins
And the breeze blows lightly,
And the cherry tree is greener than ever
Against the dry brown grass.
The sun will be setting soon
And it will be nighttime.
And I will go out to sing
Songs of joy, songs of sorrow
And go in,
For tomorrow is another day
And another day is tomorrow
Another summer day.
Does anyone remember the pepsi challange? My mother does. For those of you who don't have such an informative mother, or those of you who are old enough to remember but didn't or whatever--I'll tell you.
The pepsi challange is a blind study to see whether or not one likes pepsi or coke better. You label two cups with two different symbols, or letters, like "S" and "L". Then you get your helper to pour coke into one cup and pepsi into another. You can't know which is which, but your partner must. You take a drink out of one and then you eat a cracker until the taste is gone. You do note the symbol. Then you take a sip out of the other. Eating crackers in between is necessary. When you've come to a conclusion about which you like better, you tell your partner, you know, the one who knows which is which. Your partner tells you which you like better.
Susie likes coke because its less strong, but I like pepsi because it is strong. We had a lot of fun taking the pepsi challange, and if you have time and resources, I highly recommend it!
(Next thing we're going to have to do is make up a 7-up and Sprite challange!)
(What about a Minute Maid and Fanta challange?)
(Cherry coke and Cherry pepsi?)
Saro
January 28th. We went to the night market yesterday. It was kind of neat, but I do wish that people wouldn't be so "hard sell"--I mean, it's hard to walk with your hands rooted by your sides and your eyes taking in everything when you really want to look at the soap carving that you will not buy. Otherwise, though, it was just like Folklife--Bumbershoot, let's say--pretty much.
Today we ate at sizzler with Uncle Tim and Aunt Pat and I am still full. I will close now. Tomorrow it's back to China and so I have finished about Thailand.
Saro
Going to a graveyard...it's not exactly the sort of thing you would classify as a "hike" in the 'States, would you? Here in China the graves are big monuments and they're on hills. So we just hike among one sometimes.
But you wouldn't believe what we did yesterday! We went to a big graveyard. We took this taxi, and when we got there, we started walking down this road. And on the road you looked over and there were thousands of graves. We walked down this road, then we hiked to the top of the hill that they were on. There were all sorts of them. Double ones, single ones, bricked over ones, one bricked over and covered with tiles, incense sticks, etc. etc.
Grave
Walk softly--you are the only one alive in this silent place
Feel the dates, engraved in stone.
1985 February 19th-2004 March 28th.
Touch a dragon and a pheonix engraved in stone.
Then, sit in a shadow of a grave
At the top of a mountain.
I once wrote a tune--it was in the style of an air, but I don't think it was quite that good--with this title.
Emptiness can mean a lot of things. Sometimes it as as simple as a vase with nothing in it--though is it possible; having dust and that in it, to be empty--but it often means more.
After losing a friend, one might feel awfully empty. Sometimes a homesick person (for some people it truly is only sometimes, but for others it can be chronic) feels empty for home. And those are only two.
I was in the little blue house when I wrote that tune about something completely different--but it seems that the little simple arpeggio-heavy piece has shown itself to be faceted.
It's too bad one can't post sheet music on their blogs--or, more accurately, that I have not the resources to do that myself. Then, those of you who might be able to read music would see the little piece I am talking about...or even play it and see how it sounds. I'd also post the other one, the prettier one to my opinion--though both are arpeggio-heavy and in a minor key and that's what I like--called, "Wish".
Saro
Janurary 27th. Today we went to the hill tribes museum and the Night Market. The hill tribes museum was interesting, about the life and culture of people in various Thai Hill Tribes, kinda like Chinese Minorities. There was a big room dedicated to the Royal Family's work among the hill tribes. It was like what was everywhere. People really like and respect the king here! Anyway, it had everything from Meo and Hmong (which looked kind of Chinese) to the long-necked Karen (Karen is the name, really!) people. The long-necked Karen people...you know what I mean? The women have "stretched necks", done by fitting lots of brass rings to them to "stretch" them--actually, their shoulders are kind of pushed down or something. Anyway, it was interesting...there was one picture of a bunch of Karen people and there was this real little girl (or else it was a boy) with no neck rings, then a bigger girl with about four neck rings, and then there was a young woman and an old woman with about the same number of neck rings on..six or seven at least. There weren't any neck rings at the gift, shop, so we couldn't try an experiment on it. What there was were some cute little worry dolls--the belief is that you whisper your worries to them and then shove 'em under your pillow...in the morning they will be gone, taken away from the dolls. Mine is actually a zipper pull--I "fixed" it a bit. Yes, Mum and Daddy let us each pick out a worry doll. If I have to give mine a name, it will be Kanya.
Yes! That is a line from a song. It's the past tense of "weeded". The whole song is as follows:
Come all young ladies, and listen to my song,
I'll tell you 'bout a young man who wouldn't raise corn.
The reason why, I cannot tell,
This young man was always well.
In the month of June, he planted his corn,
In July, he laid it by,
In October, there came a frost,
The seed of his corn this young man lost.
He goeth down and he peepeth in,
The weeds and the grass grew up to his chin!
The weeds and the grass, they grew so high,
Caused this young man for to cry.
He goeth down to his near neighbor's land,
Going a-courting, as I understand,
Going a-courting, and, sure as you're born,
"Kind sir, have you wed your corn?"
"Well, yes, my dear!" he did reply,
"Yes, my dear, I've laid it by,
But it ain't worthwhile to strive in vain--
I don't believe in my soul it's gonna raise one grain!"
"Well, a healthy young man that won't raise corn
Is the laziest man that ever was born!
Single I am, single I'll remain--
But a lazy man I won't maintain!"
And in the dry season, too!
It happened one day when we were taking a hike. It was really muddy, and we had just scrambled down from the stupa. It has this trail down, see, and it was really really tricky. So we just went on down and I was half afraid I would fall.
Next we had this cool time trying to get through these rice paddys. Sure, I thought, it's a bit muddy, but my shoes are dirty and ragged anyway. It would be fine.
Oops. I was getting a bit annoyed at the tough going, had reached the point where I just wanted to get home. So I, in the lead, was just crash and burning through. That's when I slipped.
First thing I did was scream as I was in the process of flipping over and tumbling in. Next thing I knew I was putting my right arm (in retrospect, I would've chosen the left in case of fracture) forward to catch the ground. Splash!
Next thing, I was being supported by my arm and my knees, the knees against the rough wall the path made, my arm buried deep in water and mud from a flooded terrace. I was not happy.
Everybody else, of course, thought it was hilarious.
Saro
B.A.A.D. Balkanarama and Atwater-Donnelly. We used the "a" in "and" in our acronym because otherwise the acronym would read "B.A.D." Okay, we've already decided that if Balkanarama sang half their songs in English we would probably not see them or anything. But since they're in these Balkan languages, we do. And some folk songs have a bit of a sick humor to them. Enough said. Anyway, B.A.A.D. is sort of our fan club. We don't have a president or anything, but we do kind of talk about stuff and all that. We used to have a rule that we'd record a bit of talking after each concert by any of these two groups, or any fragment (the Atwater part of A-D counts alone because she performs solo). But that didn't quite work out. Things got busy, and empty tapes have many other purposes, one which was extremely urgent! Note that this composed of concerts we had been to, because otherwise we would fill a tape a lot. Like this month, February, would have about 5 entries for Atwater-Donnelly alone! And it's a short month...
The people of Ulaanistan are different. They live in a compilation of lots of different things from Native American tribes to peoples of the ancient world to the Mongols. Ulaanistan is a pretend country in central Asia with a colorful cultural history. They're really funny. Like they make "fertilizer" from grass--just pick it and toss it up to rid it of impurities. Guess it works as compost. They have a big exportation of this. Really good grass. In the summer, a lot of the people live in brightly colored tents with tunnels between 'em--yeah, those are actually our play tents (which would not have fit in a suitcase. Pity, pity, pity). They draw water from a garden hose. They dress like the ancient Greeks and live like the people of the Indus Valley during the winter. Their drawings are decidedly Mayan in style.
Of course, that was back in ancient civilization days. Some people live like this, still, but they dress in things like shorts and T-shirts alone, not swathing this stuff with blankets like they used to. In the winter, they often live in places with central heat.
It's just a game my sister and I made up to combine our favorite things of ancient cultures and to have fun with them--what they might've been like. Some things we imagine, like not running inside for a bathroom break and other "necessities" like that. For I love ancient cultures, and studying about them, but I never have liked just reading books. Though I love to read, I want to live it to some extent.
And that's ancient Ulaanistan. Immigrants came in from Ireland and Bosnia, and they created an interesting culture by intermingling and not being cruel lords. And that's where Miraana comes in.
Miraana is a girl in my imagination who lived at the time when there was a war which sent many of the people who preserved folk culture into hiding or killed them because they were simply traveling musicians. She had a lute from one of these who was her special friend and got killed. So she got lessons from the royal family (another story in and of itself) and got their help and support in collecting songs like Bela Bartok or some of many others. She interviewed and recorded people and notated things down for those unfortunate folks who can read music or tablature but cannot learn things by ear for the life of them.
You can see how crazy my imagination gets.
Saro
Oh, no, here I go again with my favorite ballad! It's such a pretty song! Okay, even though it's grusome, I like it because of the tune. Besides the fact that it's easy to learn and describes Susie's greenbelt so well. The whistle does, I mean. And I do like it because it's descriptive.
It's in Aeolian mode. I am nuts about modes. There are...let's see...I think...six of them; Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeloian. There used to be a Locrian, but it sounds awful and didn't work well with tunes, so it went in the dustbin. Ionian and Aeloian are regular major and minor, respectively. Scarborough Fair (some versions, simpler versions edit out that part) is in Dorian. Phrygian sounds almost Balkan! Lydian is kind of weird-looking. Mixolydian is fun. "Old Joe Clark" is in Mixolydian and I love the little downward thing. If you have a piano and want to try 'em out, just play these on the white keys, one octave.
Chinese New Year holiday is still going strong. Lots of fireworks, but hardly a person on campus. Sometimes I will walk along the dry dusty ground and the only sound will be the slap of my shoes on the ground. It's like having a big yard to roam in. It could be an entire kingdom! There's a lonesome feeling, spoiled only by the fact that there is still a trickle of people wandering around. I wonder if the actual day of Chinese New Year was quiet on campus. If that were the case, it would be a fabulous place to play.
As it is, my sister and I are so busy with schoolwork that it exhausts us. Sitting and reading is beginning to wear me out, though I love to do it. What I love to do is write and play instruments, but I'm too tired to breathe through a tin whistle or recorder or pick up a violin. And, indeed, I believe I have writer's block.
Getting back to Chinese New Year--I never think it happened in Seattle much like this. It was not so loud, nor so quiet.
Saro
Kilkelly, Ireland, 1860
My dear and loving son John,
Your true friend the schoolmaster, Pat McNamara's
So good as to write these words down...
Killkelly, Ireland, 1892
My dear brother John,
I'm sorry that I didn't write sooner
To tell you that father passed on.
He was living with Bridget, she said he was cheerful
And healthy, right down to the end
You should've seen him playing with the grandchildren
Of Pat McNamara your friend...
How many people like crows? Raise your hand! I'm one of them. And it's not because of a certain group's certain CD. I like crows and I would love to write a story where the crows are good and the ravens are bad for once! I've always liked them--no, I hate "Sing a Song of Sixpence"--and they're a lot of places in Seattle.
A summer day is not complete without several crows cawing. They may be scavengers, but they're a beautiful black if they just stick around on a power line. Okay, I've seen a lot of gross things that they eat, but I tend to ignore that.
One summer--it was the summer of 2004--there were tons of crow feathers running around. Huge ones, as though there was this big tail feather shed. And I picked them up and kept them--put them on my dresser, with one big white dove feather. I liked the crow feathers better, because of the color--I'm not partial to white. But I made them into a fan tied with a bit of ribbon. I used to wave it. That was a weird summer--in July there were about four or five people who died, and I sang in a choir and actually did a concert; in August, I had my first formal violin concert, saw Atwater-Donnelly for the second time, and spent a most wonderful time with my Grandma Stuart. In June, nothing much happened. But I think I'm getting to like performing. Mum says I'm a ham.
There are a few songs about crows or blackbirds that I know.
If I were a blackbird, could whistle and sing,And then:
I'd follow the vessel that my true love sails in
And in the top rigging
I would there make my nest
And I'd flutter my wings on his lily white breast.
The blackest crow that ever flewOkay, so those just mention crows or blackbirds. I like them both, they've got nice tunes.
Would surely turn to white
If ever I proved false to you,
Bright day would turn to night
Bright day would turn to night, my love,
The elements would mourn
If ever I proved false to you, the seas would rage and burn.
Janurary 26th. I'm writing this on the van to Alunas--we're going to see Kanya, Mum's pen pal. I forgot to tell you about the Thai dancing on Tuesday. We went to this restaurant with my mother's conference-mates. It was cool.
When we first got there, I do believe it took our breath away. It was decorated as beautiful as a wat, and in front of it, a woman was carving carrots. She looked up and smiled when I took her picture. Another woman was playing a hammer dulcimer and she also looked up and smiled. I think they were used to lao wai taking their pictures! We walked past the wat sculpture and lined up to turn in our shoes. We couldn't wear shoes! Mum kept her socks on, but she allowed us to take off our socks. Ooh, I was squinching up my bare feet with delight on the carpet.
We ate open air on the ground. They had ingenious seats that were gently padded like my comfortable bed in Lone Valley on the bottom. The back was a little more padded so you could recline a bit. We ate delicious northern hill tribe food--yummy yummy fried chicken and vegetables--and watched tribal dancing and stuff. It was amazing and beautiful.
At the end, they sent up things that were a cross between hot-air balloons and paper bags. When it first went up it looked like an illuminated paper bag, and when it got high enough it looked like the brightest star you ever did see.
After that we walked out, stuffed into our hot shoes again (did I mention it's 90 degrees as a high around here?) and stepped out into the starry night. They were still sending off paper bags, and the butterfly dancer was posing for pictures. She did the smile of "another lao wai taking my picture don't i look nice" and I had to give her a thumbs up when I saw the picture in the digital.
Later. Alunas is so far away! They said about 5 hours to get there. Yeah right, it's a 7 hour drive! And of course it feels like 10 hours. Every hour feels like 10 at this point, and I've already sang a marathon of songs--I started with "One More Day" and I've just finshed by giving myself a hoarse voice. Ugh. Oh, well. I suppose it was worth it to see Kanya. When we finally got to Somlua, she was at school. So we went to her teacher's office while they went and got her. She speaks a little English, but it was good to have a translator who spoke...um...a little more than she did. She did try to ask me how old I was, and instead of "thirteen" I said "fine thank you" because I misunderstood her to say "How are you?". This caused general laughter when it was translated into Thai. I just hope she isn't consulting anyone who knows English to find out what number "fine thank you" is.
She took us to her house and we gave her a backpack full of stuff. We took a bunch of pictures, then she gave Mum a scarf, Daddy a length of cloth (used for tons of stuff by Thai men, apparently), and Susie and I a pretty pillow that her grandmother had made.
It was cool seeing Kanya, whom we've heard about for years and never met before.
Better put away the diary. Here comes the hotel!
Saro
Talk about a lot of titles! Somebody found about five different versions of this song under four different titles...like, "On Buttermilk Hill", "Wild Geese", "Gone the Rainbow", and..."Shule Aroon"--which, I have to admit makes the least sense to me. Actually, none of the titles except "Shule Aroon" fit the version I know, but I suppose they all make sense. What does "shule aroon" mean anyway?
Shule, shule, shule aroon.
Time can only heal my woe
Since the lad of my heart from me did go
Oh, Johnny has gone for a soldier.
Here I stand on buttermilk hill.
Who could blame me, crying my fill?
Every tear could turn a mill.
Johnny has gone for a soldier.
Oh, I wish I were on yonder hill
It's there I'd sit and cry my fill,
Until every tear could turn a mill.
Oh, Johnny has gone for a soldier.
When I was little, I loved Spike Jones (I have varied tastes), especially der Fuehrer's Face. Don't ask me why. I don't even know the lyrics. But I sang one verse like this:
When the furo says,
"Hi mister master ays"
We "Hi!" [spit] "Hi!" [spit]
Right in to furo's face;
Not to love the furo
Is a great disgrace, so...
We "Hi!" [spit] "Hi!" [spit]
Right into furo's face.
Would you talk to Superman?
Dar dar Superman?
"Howdy, Mr. Superman!"
Super duper Superman!
Is this not this land so good?
Would you eat it if you could?
"Yeah, this klutzy land is good!
We would eat if we could!"
We bring this world Senora
(womp, womp)
Hi Hitler's world disorder!
If we want a foreign race
We love that furo's face,
But we bring to the world disorder!
When the furo says...
When Der Fuehrer says, "We ist der master race"
We HEIL! HEIL! Right in Der Fuehrer's face
Not to love Der Fuehrer is a great disgrace
So we HEIL! HEIL! Right in Der Fuehrer's face
Are we not the supermen
Aryan pure supermen
Ja we ist der supermen
Super-duper supermen
Ist this Nutzi land not good?
Would you leave it if you could?
Ja this Nutzi land is good!
Vee would leave it if we could
We bring the world to order
Heil Hitler's world New Order
Everyone of foreign race will love Der Fuehrer's face
When we bring to der world disorder!
She treated me so mean,
So I took a can of gasoline,
And struck a match to...(AAAAUGH!)
My...old...flame...
Still Janurary 25th. After that, we went to the new Narnia movie. It was so cool, and pretty close to the book, too! When I saw the trailer, Jadis looked much too pretty and even kind. But she had a definite evil air throughout the movie. Unfortunately, they had some previews that were terrible. The movie theater, I mean--Narnia was good!. But they had trailers for...um, well, the only one I can remember the title too was Memoirs of a Geisha. That was violent. And then there was this trailer for a guy who was a fighter, but it had him punching this guy's lights out, and it also had him finding a bunch of family members hacked up. Ew! not only that, but it had a thing before it that said, "The following PREVIEW has been approved for all audiences by the Motion Picture Association of America." Whatever happened to little four-year-old kids can't see much violence at all? I know that in some places, violence is every day life and you just can't protect them and families are broken up and all that...but if you can protect somebody, like Neal ("Daddy, tell me when it isn't like this anymore!"), why not?
Enough critism. My point was that, when the movie did start with the bombing of London by the Germans, I thought it was a preview and actually yelled, "NO!"--you know, I'd seen too many violent previews, and all that, and I just wanted to see the movie, violence or not. But it actually started with that to show the Pevensies leaving London.
Well, the movie was fascinating, and wonderful, and intense (I've read the book millions of times and I've never cried when they kill...well, you'll find out).
Do yourself a favor (time and money permitting) and see it.
*Yawn!* I think I'll go to bed now. More about Thai dancing tomorrow...
Pigeon in the rain
Ruffled feathers, fat birds--
Little heads sticking up.
Gray skies, steely heavens--
Rain is falling on the city.
Why is your perch so blue, birds?
Why is your perch so grassy?
Why is this place a favorite haunt
Of a pigeon in the rain?
Leafless trees, black bare branches--
Birdseed littering dark cold ground.
Wet grass, green mixed gray--
All in the song of a rainy day.
Why is your perch so dark, birds?
Why is your perch so black?
Why is this place a favorite haunt
Of a pigeon in the rain?
Give me a pigeon in the rain--
Dark, ruffled feathers, fat and ugly
With a little head sticking up and a glaring eye.
Give me the perch.
Bright blue against steely skies,
Climb still higher to a doorway.
Give me a pigeon in the rain.
Here I am again! I'm continuing to blog as though I was copying from my diary--basically, diary entries that don't exist!
January 25th. Today we went putt-putt with Daddy, Susie, Sandy, Neal, Kelly, and her friend Uni (she's Korean).
It was cool--around the world in eighteen holes! The first hole was the Netherlands--just a windmill, nothing special (I think it should have been our Dutch Lone Valleyite--Daisy). It pretty easy. The next one was Switzerland--a bunch of mountains. That was easier. The third one was Canada--igloos and penguins, which always made me think of Alaska. The fourth was the Roman Colloseum--looked easy, because it was simply straight to a hole within the Colloseum. Actually, it was sloped slightly. It was good that after six unsuccesful strokes, you could give up! We progressed to the Spanish bulfighter and quickly found out that he was trickier--after a few wild swings and some interesting ball paths, I found myself in France. That was easier--get the ball through a bumpy path to the Eiffel Tower. I managed in one or two strokes, but spent the remaining going crazy trying to get it in the hole. So I ended up with seven. I sunk the ball directly in the hole at hole 7--the Statue of Liberty. That was easy!
After that there were two more American things--in Thailand?--and so we drove our balls through Manhattan. Then we went to Las Vegas and did a gambling thing--hit our ball through one, I mean. Kelly whacked hers into one of the lights by mistake! She was fine. I got lucky and did it in four. Apparently Sandy and Uni got it in one.
After that there was Mexico. It was fairly easy--nothing was as bad as Italy, Spain, and Australia. Australia was awful--you sent something up a slide into a kangaroo pouch (why you didn't just toss your balls to Matt I'll never know) and none of us--oh, Sandy and Daddy did--got it. Brazil was sort of a carnival loopdeloop but it was so scary to shoot at it that I ended up in seven. Next was--I think--South Africa. That was cool because it was just a curvy trek with zebra stripes (why not just toss the balls to Nelson Mandela? Or the Ladysmith Black Mambazo?). Egypt's pyramid was okay too.
India was fun! You shot the ball across a river (Ganges?), past the Taj Mahal, and into the hole. I got it in two. Uni got the ball in the river. We were wondering what those nets were for! It was hilarious, and she took it good-naturedly. We then did a flag of Japan for Japan. That was boring and pretty easy, too.
China! Oh, why wasn't it beautiful Qi Shan and my lonesome valley? But it was the Great Wall. Easy enough, I guess. After putting, you walked along the wall to Thailand. Thailand was shooting a ball down an elephant's nose and then putting it into the hole. Original--I guess.
Ending scores in order of good stuff:
Have you ever heard the story of Tam Lin? It's a cool story from Scotland. Here's my version. Jane Yolen retold it in a lovely book called Tam Lin. I've added lots of details.
Tam Lin
Once upon a time, in the north of Scotland, there lived a man and his wife in the clan of MacLean--or some clan up there. They had an only daughter, Jennet, who was always going places she wasn't supposed to. Lady MacLean was always gossiping with the other women...like this:
"That Jennet! What am I going to do?--for as soon as my back is turned, she'll likely be headed to the old abandoned castle--through the woods where the fey are supposed to live."
Oh, Lady MacLean had made one mistake talking like that--for Jennet was sitting by the fire, carressing her sprained ankle and thinking deep thoughts for an eleven-year-old. Forgetting that children should be seen and not heard, she cried: "Fey folk? They live in the woods here?!" Indeed, if it hadn't been for her sprained ankle, she might've been off at once. Lady MacLean slapped her forehead at her own idiocy. Had it not been for Jennet's careful nurse, the girl might have started out as soon as her ankle was better.
But her nurse told her stories of the horrors of the fey, especially the one about the fact that the queen would take a favorite from humans and keep him for--oh, hundreds upon thousands of years! But when she tired of him he would become a sacrifice...to what, the nurse didn't know.
Years passed, and Jennet grew to be a fine young woman. On the night of her sixteenth birthday, she felt annoyed by all the partying and realized 'twould be a fine night to see the abandoned castle. For you see, Lady MacLean's words had sunk in; Jennet would have no rest 'til she saw the castle. And this was almost her death.
So she flung a cloak on and slipped out the door. She hurried through the woods until she reached the castle--oh, the sounds she heard scared her to death--and it wasn't much of a sight. It was covered in dead brambles and 'live brambles, but all that lay on the dark greens and brown was a wee rose. The sight of it drew Jennet quite, until she finally reached out and plucked it.
"Hey!" she heard a voice behind her and screamed. Perhaps not the best thing to do, but every fear she had squashed down inside of her rose to the surface in that scream. Whatever it had accomplished, the voice softened a bit.
"Who are you who dared to call me at this hour? I don't even know you!"
"Um...I'm Jennet MacLean. I heard that it--that this castle belonged to my ancestors. But it kind of fell into disrepair after a friend who courted my great-great-great aunt (her name was Janet MacLean--I was named for her) disappeared. Everyone fled, and--well, I guess this great wood grew about it. Are you fey?"
"Well, you never did answer my question, Jennet MacLean--but I will answer. I live with the fey. They were like to think that I was fey--that is, until the queen found a new favorite."
"You are human?! Why!--I never thought there was much truth in those stories, then."
"Yes, I am the queen's favorite--doomed to be sacrificed on midsummer night when--"
"But that's terrible!"
"Yes--but it must be done."
"Can no one save you?"
"I suppose...your great great great aunt, Janet." he paused, then added: "MacLean. And you, Jennet MacLean, must be going. There's the path. Don't worry--I will tell the fey not to touch you if the need arises."
And so Jennet went home. 'Twas a long way 'til midsummer night, anyway. She felt a slight need to save this young man and decided to see if Janet MacLean was still alive.
She feigned interest in her aunt's crocheting of doilies to find her, but, doilies and all--she was dead. Jennet was horrified. Meantimes, she still sometimes saw Tam Lin--the young man she'd met--when she walked in the forest. Walking in the forest was a good pastime when the forest was safe. Finally, the day before midsummer night, she told him that she had searched for her great great great aunt and found she was dead. Suddenly she felt desparately anguished.
"Can no one save you?" she cried. "What's so special about Janet MacLean, anyway?!?"
Tam Lin smiled, but it wasn't a very happy one. "Jennet MacLean, there is nothing special about Janet...MacLean. She was my true love, and I was the one that disappeared. All that have loved me are gone, and my true love--she is the only one who can save me."
Suddenly Jennet had an idea. "I love you! I will save you! Only..." she thought a minute. "Tell me what I must do."
Tam Lin turned sharply--they had not been walking side by side, and he wasn't looking at her anyway. But he slowly smiled. "You must persist. That's most important. Take some dirt from the graveyard--near the gravestone is best--and some water...no, no, no, Jennet, not well water!" Jennet looked puzzled, but then she nodded. "Easier said than done, but I'll do it. What do I do with the supplies?"
"You'll know. I don't."
"Sure, and you're a big help."
A flicker of a smile crossed his face. "It's been done before, but each time it's different."
Midsummer night, Jennet was heading out with a pocketful of dirt (her nurse was very angry) and a bottle of precious water she had begged to get. She pulled her cloak tight about her, worried as anything. She went to an old well, Tam Lin had told her about. Soon a parade of horses came by. First came a black horse with a fairy man on it--a warrior. His face filled Jennet with fear. Next, on a brown horse, came a young man fair of face, and obviously human. Jennet did not know who he was. Next rode the queen on a silver horse, and her hair was braided in a million silver braids. Next came a man on a white horse--Tam Lin! Jennet ran to him. He swung off his horse. Jennet stood between him and the queen.
The queen wheeled around and scowled. "Who are you, human one, to stand in the way of what must be done?"
Jennet was silent. Words were useless. Then she gained her voice and knew what to say. "He is my true love and I will save him from your cruelty."
"You are an idiot. In fact--" the queen paused. "Who are you?"
"Jennet MacLean."
"Well, Jennet MacLean, do you hold on to him now?"
Where Tam Lin had been, a fearsome lion now was. He roared and pounced on her. Jennet was frightened, but she forced herself to look into its eyes. She flung her arms around it, and her fear subsided.
"Jennet MacLean!" the queen yelled above the roaring and the chattering of excited fey, "Do you hold on to him now?"
The lion turned into a snake, mouth open to bite. Jennet stared into the evil yellow eyes and held it more tightly.
"Do you hold on to him now, Jennet MacLean?" the queen asked. The snake turned into a brand of fire, ready to burn the woman's hand. Jennet looked fiercely at the queen. Then she went and dropped the brand into the pool, sprinkling precious water over it.
"No, I don't!" she yelled, but then added, as Tam Lin, his clothing burned away--but unharmed, emerged: "But now I do. To Tam Lin she said: "Cover yourself with the cloak and...augh!" The fey were angry and rushing at them.
"The dirt, Jennet! The dirt!" Tam Lin hissed at her. Jennet reached into her pocket and sprinkled dirt 'round her and Tam Lin. The queen gave a howl of rage and anguish; her power was broken. And then she and the fey disappeared. Only Tam Lin and Jennet were left. Both breathed a sigh of relief.
"You," Jennet said, "need some clothes."
Tam Lin laughed. "You need to remember everything you keep in your pockets."
So they went to the castle of the MacLeans and Jennet announced that she'd found a husband and none else need to worry about finding one for her. And they were married in a beautiful ceremony--with only one mar; Lady MacLean was heard to mutter, "What am I going to do with that Jennet?"
