Thesis work, 1994. Kristin Rogers Brown
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@krbee
Thesis work, 1994. Kristin Rogers Brown
โthe breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. donโt go back to sleepโ
โ Rumi (via iheartloons)
Tarawinona
(via liberam)
I would like to listen to my mom practice piano today while I try to fall asleep.ย But this completely amazing performance by the young and talented Inbar Rothschild will have to do.
This performance is from the memorial concert for her mentor.ย A pupil of the late Israeli pianist, Prof. Pnina Salzman, Rothschild is described as โan exceptional pianist, full of expression, warmth and intelligenceโ.
Rothschild says: โMy favorite music :)โ
(for part 2 in this flavor, click hereโฆ)
_____
Chopin - Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, Op. 11
Inbar Rothschild - Piano ; Yoni Farhi - Conductor; Haifa Orchestra Symphony
30/12/2011 - A concert in memory of the great pianist Pnina Salzman
โฆand one more, this time of Inbar Rothschildโs mentor, Pnina Salzman (1922-2006). Rachmaninov, Concerto No.1 for piano and orchestra.ย ย
Posted just a few days ago. Only 232 views on the youtube post, and 2 of them are mine.ย This is not a new sentiment, but sometimes in our push to get lots of likes and follows, we lose sight of individuals.ย In just a few clicks, I start to see a story of love and loss in the comments, halfway around the world from where I sit.ย I never know whether to be embarrassed that Iโve noticed, or grateful.
(for part 1 of playing in this flavor, click here)
Wish Lists: On Memory and Chaos (an open letter by John Hodgman, openletters.net)
(quoted from the excellent OpenLetters.net)
Ocean City, New Jersey August 20, 2000
To whom it may concern: Dad and Katherine and I begin the drive from Brookline, Massachusetts, to Ocean City, New Jersey, at 12:33 PM, Saturday, 19 August. The driving is broken into shifts of three hours or one hundred and fifty miles, whichever comes later. We had first planned to stop in New York City and spend the night at Katherineโs and my apartment, but we decide, impetuously, to push through. This means we do not pick up the digital camera from Kโs sister in New York as planned. Thus, no record of this journey exists, except for this letter. I have not consulted any notes in composing these facts; they are, to the best of my immediate memory, accurate. Our route is as follows: 1) The Massachusetts Turnpike (I-90) heading west; 2) I-84 West; 3) The Saw Mill Parkway South; 4) The Tappan Zee Bridge; 5) I-287/87 North; 6) The Garden State Parkway South to New Jersey Shore Points. In Ocean City, we will rendezvous with my motherโs five sisters, her one brother, and their families, who normally live in Philadelphia, where my mother grew up. They will stay at my Aunt Susanโs house at 19th Street and Boardwalk. We will stay at the ground-level apartment my grandmother has rented for the past three summers. It is on St. Charles Place between Atlantic and Corinthian, just down the street from the church where the Mass for my mother will be held in one week: Saint Francis Cabrini. My grandmother passed away last 26 December. She died due to complications following the surgical removal of what was presumed to be a cancerous tumor from her lung, though we have never received the results of the biopsy. Her husband, my motherโs father, passed away six years ago, of colon cancer. Rest stops: We stop first at the Charlton Plaza on the Mass. Turnpike for Taco Bell bean burritos, Katherineโs new favorite. We purchase three: two for K, one for me, and an additional Burrito Supreme for me. Dad has two hot dogs. Our second stop is at a Texaco station just off of I-84 at exactly mile 150. We purchase beef jerky (brand: โOh Boyโ Oberto) and four bags of rare Snyderโs jalapeno-flavored pretzel pieces. The beef jerky is for me and K, who are attempting to eat fewer carbs and more protein in an effort to shed the many pounds we have gained since quitting smoking. The pretzel pieces are for my aunt Judy, who since that one time has never been able to find them in her local supermarket. Stop three is a service plaza on the New Jersey Turnpike at about mile 300. Inside, K and Dad both get frozen yogurt: vanilla, with jimmies. Only about fifty miles left. At this point, Kโs and my game of Scrabble is abandoned after a heated dispute over the acceptability of the word โinjun.โ K claims that, as slang, it is acceptable. I challenge, predicting that it does not appear in the official Scrabble dictionary, as the third edition has cleaned out all shits, fucks, and potentially offensive or insensitive terms. I am correct. K claims this is poor sportsmanship on my part. Play the words, not the dictionary: that is her Scrabble philosophy. There is no philosophy, is my philosophy. Instead, there are rules. Challenging is within the rules, and I will use the rules to my advantage, however small, and I will do so ruthlessly and un-apologetically. Without rules there is only chaos. At this point, the New York radio stations we first picked up around Danbury begin to fade. The New Jersey Parkway is broken up frequently by toll plazas, designed to slow traffic. The price of passage is nominal: thirty-five cents โ like last summer, but not like a few years ago, when I swear it was only a quarter. Though my memory may be incorrect here. 8:30 PM: arrival. We drive directly to Susanโs house. In descending order of age, these are my motherโs siblings, with parenthetical notes describing their families: 1. Jim, brother (husband to Anita. Previously married to Kay, whom he divorced, and then Linda, who died of cancer) 2. Janice (widowed, was married to Mike, no children) 3. Susan (widowed, was married to John, who died of cancer, and with whom she had two sons, Matt, 16, and Andrew, 12. Currently married to Tom, who is the dean of discipline at an all-girlsโ school) 4. Beth (never married) 5. And the twins: Judy (wife to Ralph, mother of Kyle, 8, Casey, 6, and Connor, 2); and Jane (wife to Joe, mother of Erin, 8, Dan, 6, and Kerrianne, 1). All of the above are present when we arrive except for Jim, Anita, and Janice, who will be joining us in a few days. All of the younger children, my cousins, have made wish lists for the summer, which they share with me and K. Hoped-for activities include: โJetskiingโ โCape May Zooโ โFly Kitesโ โWonderland Pier with JKโ [โJKโ refers to John Kellogg, who is me; as opposed to John Francis, who is my dad] โMini golf with Katherineโ โRide trolley with everyoneโ The last item on Kyleโs list is: โSay sorry about Aunt Eileen.โ Eileen was my mother. She died on June 9 of this year of lung cancer. An interesting thing is that I could never remember her birthday. I forced myself to recall it last year, thank god, but even to this day I have no idea what I gave her as a present. 11:00 PM: departure from Susanโs. Before heading to my grandmotherโs empty apartment, we stock up at the WaWa Market at West Avenue and 18th Street. There we purchase: string cheese, beef jerky (brand: cannot recall, but there is an American Indian on the label), eggs, milk, scrapple, and other staples. Then we buy gas. I offer twenty dollars to Dad for food and gas, and he attempts to refuse it. My grandmotherโs apartment is dark and musty. Before going to sleep, I make eggs and scrapple for K, which we eat in front of the television. Dad goes to bed in the front bedroom. We go to bed in the back bedroom. It is cool and breezy: unseasonably so. Before falling asleep, I read twelve pages of the book BRAIN FITNESS by Dr. Robert Goldman, which is about exceptional super mind power and the benefit of making lists from memory, to train the mind against forgetfulness and stimulate neural growth. Today it is Sunday, 20 August, 2000. My motherโs birthday is 27 November, 1941. I am training myself against forgetfulness. John
__________________
If you read this far, you might also enjoy his slightly more upbeat but still right onย Open Letter on The Slingshot; itโs also part of This American Life, episode # 243.
For what itโs worth, I found this because of a piece about how Star Wars: The Phantom Menace basically ruined everything (transcript) (listen).
โKRB
์์ํ๊ณ , ๋ฐ๋ปํ๊ณ , ์ํธ ๊ฐ๋ํ ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์ ๋ง๋๋ย Subin Yang๋์ ์๊ฐํฉ๋๋ค.
์ง๊ธ์ ์ผ๋ฌ์คํธ๋ ์ด์ ์ค๋ ฅ์ด ์๊ธฐ๊น์ง ๊ฐ์ฅ ํฐ ๋์์ด ๋๋ ๋ฐฉ๋ฒ์ด ์๋ค๋ฉด์?
๊ฐ์ฅ ํฐ ๋์์ด ๋ ๊ฑด ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์ ์ฆ๊ธธ ์ ์์๊ธฐ ๋๋ฌธ์ธ ๊ฒ ๊ฐ์์! ์ ๊ฐ ์ข์ํ๋ ๊ฑธ ์ง์งํด์ฃผ์ ๋ถ๋ชจ๋ ๋์ธ์ง ์ด๋ฆด ์ ๋ถํฐ ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์ ๊ทธ๋ ค์๊ณ ํ ๋ฒ๋ ๋ฉ์ถ ์ ์ด ์์ด์. ํ๊ตญ์ด๋ ์ธ๋์์ ์ด ๋๋ ๋ฏธ์ ์์ ์ ์ข์ํ๊ณ , ๊ทธ๋ณด๋ค ๋ ์ด๋ ธ์ ๋ ์ธ์ผ๋ฌ๋ฌธ์ด๋ ๋ค๋ฅธ ๋งํ ์ํ ํฌ์ํธ๋ฅผ ๊ทธ๋ ธ์ด์. ํญ์ ๋ญ๊ฐ ๊พธ๋ฏธ๊ณ , ์ค๋ฆฌ๊ณ , ๋ถ์น๊ณ , ๋ง๋ค์๊ณ ์. ๊ทธ๋ ๊ฒ ๋ณ์๊ฐ ์์ด ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์ ์ทจ๋ฏธ์ฒ๋ผ ํด ์ค๋ค๊ฐ ๊ณ ๋ฑํ์์ด ๋ผ์ ์ผ๋ฌ์คํธ๋ ์ดํฐ๋ผ๋ ์ง์ ์ ๊ดํด ์๊ฐํ๊ฒ ๋์์ฃ . ๋ฏธ์ ๋ํ์์ ๋ค์ํ ์คํ์ผ๊ณผ ์๊ฐ์ ๋๋๋ฉฐ ์์ ์ ๊ดํด ๊ณ ๋ฏผํ๊ณ ํ ๋ก ํ๋ฉด์ ์ ์์ ์ ๋ํ ์ด์ ์ด ํ ์ปค์ก๋ ๊ฒ ๊ฐ์์. ์์ ์ ๊ทธ๋ฆผ์ด๋ ์์ ์ ์์ ํ ๋ฏธ์ ๊ฐ๊ฐ, ์ทจํฅ, ์ค๋ก์ง ๋๋ฅผ ์ํ ๊ฒ์ด์๋ค๋ฉด, ๋ํ์ ์กธ์ ํ ์ง๊ธ ์ ์ฝํ๋ค์ ํ๋์ ์ธ์ด์ด๊ณ ์ฌ๋๋ค์ ๋๋ณํ ์ ์๋ ์๋จ์ด๋ผ ์๊ฐํด์. ๋ฌผ๋ก ํญ์ ๊ทธ๋ ๊ฒ ์ง์งํ๊ฒ๋ง ๊ทธ๋ฆฌ์ง๋ ์์ง๋ง์.
ํ๊ตญ๊ณผ ๋ฏธ๊ตญ์ ๊ต์ก ๋ฐฉ์์ ๊ดํด ๋ง์ํด์ฃผ์ ๋ค๋ฉด์?
ํ๊ตญ์์์ ๊ต์ก์ ๋ํ ๊ธฐ์ต์ ๋ณ๋ก ์๋ค์. ์์นจ์ ํ์์ด ๋ฐ์ ์ ๊ณ ํ๊ต ๋๋๋ฉด ์น๊ตฌ ํ ๋ช ๊ณผ ๋ฌธ๋ฐฉ๊ตฌ ๋ฐฉ๋ฌธ์ ์ฆ๊ฒผ๋ ๊ฑฐ ๋ง๊ณ ๋ ์ด๋ฑํ๊ต์ ๋ํ ๊ธฐ์ต์ด ์์ด์. ๊ฐ์กฑ๊ณผ ํจ๊ป ์ธ๋๋ก ๊ฐ๊ฒ ๋๋ฉด์ ํ๊ต์ํ์ด 180๋ ๋ฐ๋์๊ณ , ๊ทธ ํ ๊ณ์ ๋ฏธ๊ตญ์ ๊ต์ก์ ๋ฐ์์์ด์. ์ด๋ ธ์ ๋ ์ ์ผ ์ ์ํ๊ธฐ ํ๋ค์๋ ๊ฑด ์ธ์ด ์์ฒด๋ณด๋ค๋ ๋ด ์๊ฐ์ ๋ง๋ก ํํํ๋ ์ต๊ด์ด์์ด์. ์ธ๋์์ ํ๊ต ํ ๋ก ์๊ฐ์ด ๋๋ฉด ๋จธ๋ฆฌ๊ฐ ํ ๋น ์ ๋๋ก ๋นํฉํ์ด์. ์ง๊ธ ์๊ฐํด๋ณด๋ฉด ์ ๋ง ์ข์ ์ฐ์ต์ ํ๋ ๊ฒ ๊ฐ์์. ๋ด ์๊ฐ์ ๋จ์๊ฒ ์กฐ๋ฆฌ ์๊ฒ ์ค๋ช ํ๊ณ ํ์ด์ผ ํ๋ ์ ์ง์ ์ ์ข์ ๊ฒฝํ์ด์๋ ๊ฑฐ์ฃ !
์ง๊ธ ์ด ์๊ฐ ์๊ฐ๋๋, ์ข์ํ๋ ๊ธ์ด๋ ์ํ, ์์ , ๊ด์ฌ์ฌ๊ฐ ์๋ค๋ฉด์?
์ต๊ทผ์ ์ฌ๋ฐ๊ฒ ์ฝ์ ๊ฑด ๊น์จํฌ ์๊ฐ์ ใ๋จน๊ณ ๋ง์๊ณ ๊ทธ๋ฆํ๋คใ๋ผ๋ ์ฑ ์ด์์. ์ฑ ์ ์ฝ์ผ๋ฉด์ ํผ์ ์ ํํ๊ณ ์์ทจํ๋ฉฐ ๋๋ผ๋ ๊ฒฝํ๊ณผ ์๊ฐ์ด ์ดํด๋ฐ๋ ๊ธฐ๋ถ์ด์์ด์. ์ต๊ทผ ๋ณธ ์ํ ์ค์ ์จ์ค ์ค๋์จ์ ใ๊ฐ๋ค์ ์ฌใ์ด์! ์จ์ค ์ค๋์จ ์ํ๋ ๋ค ์ ์ทจํฅ ์ ๊ฒฉ ์ํ์ ๋๋ค. ์์ ์ ์์ฆ ์ผํ ๋ ์ ํ๋ธ ์ถ์ฒ์ ๋ง์ด ๋จ๋ ์ผ๋ณธ 80๋ ๋ city pop ๋ ธ๋๋ค๊ณผ Phum Viphurit๋ผ๋ ๊ฐ์์ ๋ ธ๋์. ์์ ๊ด์ฌ์ฌ๋ ์ง์ด์์. ํ๊ตญ ๋ฌธํ์ ์ญ์ฌ์๋ ๊ด์ฌ์ด ๋ง์ด ๊ฐ์!
๊ทํ ์๊ฐ ๋ด์ฃผ์ ์๋น ๋, ๊ฐ์ฌํฉ๋๋ค!
์ฌ์ง: @yangsubinie
I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we canโt go through another of those terrible times. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you.
Virgnia Woolf
Feed the breeze ใฐ
๐see-through top
Daily sketch October 27, 2017. #bourbon #tuesday
...Iโve been here for years.
Print by Paper Jam Press.
โDress Like a Womanโ by Amber Vittoria for 20x200
Kristin Rogers Brown (Portland, Oregon)
Bitch magazine covers
Keep reading
swim pup swim
Girl blobs that donโt care what you think of their lipstick choices.
I am bombarded yet ย ย ย ย I stand I have been standing all my life in the ย direct path of a battery of signals the most accurately transmitted most ย untranslatable language in the universe I am a galactic cloud so deep ย ย ย so invo- luted that a light wave could take 15 ย years to travel through me ย ย ย And has ย taken ย ย ย I am an instrument in the shape ย of a woman trying to translate pulsations ย into images ย ย for the relief of the body ย and the reconstruction of the mind.
Adrienne Rich, via https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/46568