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I might fail math if you don't move your shoulder
Today I have slept less than three hours for the second day in a row and the afternoon just clouded over. Have a couple of links.
1. I can't tell if the BLO's Daughter of the Regiment will be queer enough for its invocation of Deborah Sampson, but then I was distracted by discovering Alex Myers. I blame it on plague that I missed the queer Arthuriana of The Story of Silence (2020).
2. I had an excuse to link Bradley Kincaid's "The Two Sisters" (1928), the oldest version of the ballad I have heard recorded as opposed to seen written down. I used to sing its bleaker descendant by Roger Wilson. Tom Waits does a pretty straight one.
3. Hen Ogledd's "The Loch Ness Monster's Song" (2020) is a setting of Edwin Morgan. It may be the most zaum thing I have encountered since Victory Over the Sun (1913).
For the first time in this apartment, there was an Interloper Cat. Collared and silver-tagged, on the doorless back porch, a substantial ginger and white presence had seated itself in one of the windows with its evident object of a robin in the other. It stared directly through the back door. Hestia was wild. The bird was motionless. I did not let her out and the next time I looked, both bird and interloper had gone.
1. I can't tell if the BLO's Daughter of the Regiment will be queer enough for its invocation of Deborah Sampson, but then I was distracted by discovering Alex Myers. I blame it on plague that I missed the queer Arthuriana of The Story of Silence (2020).
2. I had an excuse to link Bradley Kincaid's "The Two Sisters" (1928), the oldest version of the ballad I have heard recorded as opposed to seen written down. I used to sing its bleaker descendant by Roger Wilson. Tom Waits does a pretty straight one.
3. Hen Ogledd's "The Loch Ness Monster's Song" (2020) is a setting of Edwin Morgan. It may be the most zaum thing I have encountered since Victory Over the Sun (1913).
For the first time in this apartment, there was an Interloper Cat. Collared and silver-tagged, on the doorless back porch, a substantial ginger and white presence had seated itself in one of the windows with its evident object of a robin in the other. It stared directly through the back door. Hestia was wild. The bird was motionless. I did not let her out and the next time I looked, both bird and interloper had gone.