my new addiction to w.h.auden.
always makes me laugh.
Foxtrot from a Play
The soldier loves his rifle,
The scholar loves his books,
The farmer loves his horses,
The film star loves her looks.
There’s love the whole world over
Wherever you may be;
Some lose their rest for gay Mae West,
But you’re my cup of tea.
Some talk of Alexander
And some of Fred Astaire,
Some like their heroes hairy
Some like them debonair,
Some prefer a curate
And some an A.D.C.,
Some like a tough to treat’em rough,
But you’re my cup of tea.
Some are mad on Airedales
And some on Pekinese,
On tabby cats or parrots
Or guinea pigs or geese.
There are patients in asylums
Who think that they’re a tree;
I had an aunt who loved a plant,
But you’re my cup of tea.
Some have sagging waistlines
And some a bulbous nose
And some a floating kidney
And some have hammer toes,
Some have tennis elbow
And some have housemaid’s knee,
And some I know have got B.O.,
But you’re my cup of tea.
The blackbird loves the earthworm,
The adder loves the sun,
The polar bear an iceberg,
The elephant a bun,
The trout enjoys the river,
The whale enjoys the sea,
And dogs love most an old lamp-post,
But you’re my cup of tea.
-------------------------------------------------------
this was my pre-performance entertainment for the past two days-- camped out behind the screen reading "the selected works of w.h.auden. :P which of course, brings me to my first REAL post in ages. Herod and the Slaughter of the Innocents, directed by Mary Larew [the most patient person in the world, i swear], was staged at the National Centre for Early Music on the 20th and 21st of june.. and all in all, it went preeeetty well! :P imagine-- a 13th century drama, entirely SUNG, performed in medieval latin in a church that's older than my country.
doesn't that sound fun? :P
well, it was.
the past few days have passed in a rush of three hour long rehearsals and run-throughs, taking ju around and essentially trying to make full use of my time left in york. it's slightly heady, actually, the feeling, when everything slows down and you think back on what you've been doing for the past academic year, and suddenly it hits you-- life's just passing you by. like that. it's frightening when you think about it, really.
but yet again, did not mean to go off on a strange, maudlin tangent.
my point was-- it was good fun. honestly. i think there's something about plainchant that really just grabs someone by the gut and forces them to concentrate on WHAT'S being sung. perhaps it's the purity of the line, the clarity of the melody unsullied by messy harmonies and polyphony. perhaps it's the use of the dorian scale, the intrinsic haunting qualities which it possesses. perhaps it's because it's in latin and everyone's just squinting at the translations trying to figure out where they are in the play. or perhaps it's just because there aren't any instruments that they could listen to as an alternative. :P but there's just something awesome about it that i'm absolutely addicted to, and i wake up sometimes hearing plainchant in my head.
which, admittedly, can sometimes be a little bit scary and foreboding. hehe.
but it's powerful, and kudos to mary, because the staging was pretty damned powerful as well. :) tableaus. so much fun. haha! looking forward to performing it again!
international medieval congress. how cool does that sound?! :P
i think with each passing day-- i revert more and more into my early teenage, inexplicably optimistic, rose-tinted-glasses-wearing self. which isn't necessarily a bad thing, i admit, but sometimes i fear that it's just.. you know. calm before the storm and all that mambo jambo. carebear-ness.
i have to stop worrying. garnering some sort of a reputation as a worrywart. bah.
something still feels wrong with the world. it's been what? three days, and something, something inexplicable, still feels wrong with the world. sigh.
Foxtrot from a Play
The soldier loves his rifle,
The scholar loves his books,
The farmer loves his horses,
The film star loves her looks.
There’s love the whole world over
Wherever you may be;
Some lose their rest for gay Mae West,
But you’re my cup of tea.
Some talk of Alexander
And some of Fred Astaire,
Some like their heroes hairy
Some like them debonair,
Some prefer a curate
And some an A.D.C.,
Some like a tough to treat’em rough,
But you’re my cup of tea.
Some are mad on Airedales
And some on Pekinese,
On tabby cats or parrots
Or guinea pigs or geese.
There are patients in asylums
Who think that they’re a tree;
I had an aunt who loved a plant,
But you’re my cup of tea.
Some have sagging waistlines
And some a bulbous nose
And some a floating kidney
And some have hammer toes,
Some have tennis elbow
And some have housemaid’s knee,
And some I know have got B.O.,
But you’re my cup of tea.
The blackbird loves the earthworm,
The adder loves the sun,
The polar bear an iceberg,
The elephant a bun,
The trout enjoys the river,
The whale enjoys the sea,
And dogs love most an old lamp-post,
But you’re my cup of tea.
-------------------------------------------------------
this was my pre-performance entertainment for the past two days-- camped out behind the screen reading "the selected works of w.h.auden. :P which of course, brings me to my first REAL post in ages. Herod and the Slaughter of the Innocents, directed by Mary Larew [the most patient person in the world, i swear], was staged at the National Centre for Early Music on the 20th and 21st of june.. and all in all, it went preeeetty well! :P imagine-- a 13th century drama, entirely SUNG, performed in medieval latin in a church that's older than my country.
doesn't that sound fun? :P
well, it was.
the past few days have passed in a rush of three hour long rehearsals and run-throughs, taking ju around and essentially trying to make full use of my time left in york. it's slightly heady, actually, the feeling, when everything slows down and you think back on what you've been doing for the past academic year, and suddenly it hits you-- life's just passing you by. like that. it's frightening when you think about it, really.
but yet again, did not mean to go off on a strange, maudlin tangent.
my point was-- it was good fun. honestly. i think there's something about plainchant that really just grabs someone by the gut and forces them to concentrate on WHAT'S being sung. perhaps it's the purity of the line, the clarity of the melody unsullied by messy harmonies and polyphony. perhaps it's the use of the dorian scale, the intrinsic haunting qualities which it possesses. perhaps it's because it's in latin and everyone's just squinting at the translations trying to figure out where they are in the play. or perhaps it's just because there aren't any instruments that they could listen to as an alternative. :P but there's just something awesome about it that i'm absolutely addicted to, and i wake up sometimes hearing plainchant in my head.
which, admittedly, can sometimes be a little bit scary and foreboding. hehe.
but it's powerful, and kudos to mary, because the staging was pretty damned powerful as well. :) tableaus. so much fun. haha! looking forward to performing it again!
international medieval congress. how cool does that sound?! :P
i think with each passing day-- i revert more and more into my early teenage, inexplicably optimistic, rose-tinted-glasses-wearing self. which isn't necessarily a bad thing, i admit, but sometimes i fear that it's just.. you know. calm before the storm and all that mambo jambo. carebear-ness.
i have to stop worrying. garnering some sort of a reputation as a worrywart. bah.
something still feels wrong with the world. it's been what? three days, and something, something inexplicable, still feels wrong with the world. sigh.
posted by jo at 08:05
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