music of the ellipses

More than one focus. (Rationalist-adjacent. Terrible sense of humor. Prone to occasional lawyersplaining.)

[jaiwithani]

“Is your refrigerator running?”

“Yeah, fucker already has three field offices in Iowa.”

[sasstastic-turtles]

‪Essays I've written that had absolutely no business scoring as high as they did‬

- A literary analysis claiming that Jekyll was gay and strongly insinuating that Hyde was his drag persona‬ ‪- 500 words on how Despacito has changed the American music industry (in Spanish)‬ ‪- Literally didn’t even write an essay just turned in a picture of that scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the cartoon angels are playing the trumpet w their asses - We were supposed to make a ‘diary’ from the pov of a character in Romeo and Juliet. I chose to write as a gay servant who was hopelessly in love w Romeo and plotting to murder Juliet. It’s entirely handwritten w my left hand and stg every single word is spelled wrong. One page just says ‘today I saw a geese’. There are no fewer than 6 thinly veiled sexual innuendos.

[suburbanwildernessdeity]

Sorry to be the person to add unsolicited personal stories to posts, but I do very similar things with essays that I’m quite proud of and wanted to share, so here are a few of mine in chronological order:

- the assignment (freshman year) was to write an instructional essay about a mathematical concept we had used that year, “preferably the quadratic formula.” I wrote a 5 paragraph instructional essay on how to add single digit numbers. I received a grade of 105 for creativity and accuracy.

- the assignment was to write a summary of the uber-important grade-wide government simulation as a reporter from a mainstream newspaper. I chose the onion and wrote about the European Union changing its name to the European Disunion because they felt bad about all the anti-brexit voters who got let down

- we were supposed to watch a historical movie and write a compare/contrast essay on how accurate it was to actual historical events. I chose Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter and did not mention vampires AT ALL until the last sentence of the essay.

- in health class we were assigned to write a “letter” essay convincing a teenager not to try drugs. I wrote an impressively sinister 6 paragraphs posing as the FBI agent stalking the teenager filled with lines like “they’re trying to hurt you. don’t ask me how I know- I always know. I’m here even when you can’t sense me. Drugs kill more effectively than the yakuza- and I would know.”

[sasstastic-turtles]

These are incredible

[xiaq]

Freshman year of high school, for my Bible class (private school Christian education, whattup) we had to write a diary entry from an Egyptian’s pov during the period when Moses came to free the Israelites and the whole 10 plagues bit happened. I turned in three pages of hand-drawn hieroglyphics. 100.

Sophomore year of high school we had to write a poem in the style of a poet we had covered that year. I chose Alfred Noyes (he wrote “The Highwayman”) and, being that I was fully obsessed with Avatar the Last Airbender, I wrote “The Cabbage Man.” 100. Junior year of high school we had to write a persuasive essay about Hamlet. I wrote mine arguing that Hamlet was very poor-sighted (he thinks Polonius is a fishmonger, he doesn’t recognize Ophelia, he literally thinks Rosencrantz is a sponge, etc.). It was complete bullshit, but I provided textual evidence for every claim and ended with the assertion that, had Hamlet a good Ophthalmologist, a good amount of nonsense could have been avoided. I got a 100 and the teacher read it out loud to the class Senior year of high school, for my college admissions essay, I was supposed to write a letter to someone who changed my life. I wrote it to the monster who lived under my bed as a child. I got into every college I applied to.

[madgastronomer]

I was taking a bullshit lit class with a super bad teacher whom I hated (but who, for some reason, adored me), and we were doing A Clockwork Orange. We were supposed to read it in three sections and take notes to turn in. I had done the first two sections normally and turned them in on time, then went back to read the last third, and was trying to figure out how I felt about the ending, so I turned to the introduction and read that (I read introductions last). It talked about the “lost” last chapter of the American edition and the numerology of having 21 chapters, and suddenly I was writing a whole paper charting the book as The Fool’s Journey, just sticking each Major Arcana, in order, in each chapter, and going with it. I turned that in, and he fucking loved it.

[musicoftheellipses]

My college admissions essay was a meta-essay about the weirdness of writing college admissions essays (sorry, lost to the mists of time). Sometime around my junior year I saw a packet given to prospective students which included some example admissions essays and mine was in it.

[hybridzizi]

A few years ago, I was telling my sister a story from my biology class. We had a bunch of chicks, and every morning we would come to find another one dead. Finally, we figured out that one of the chicks had been murdering the others in the night.

She stopped me partway through the story so she could tell me, very annoyed, to “just say girls!” 

“What? No. Chicks. Like, baby chickens.”

“Oh.”

“You thought I was telling you that a girl in the class was murdering all the others and you weren’t concerned?”

[shitpostinguniverse]

[streetdogmillionaires]

"Okay I know how to take meat away from a dog. How do I take a dog away from meat. This is not, unfortunately, a joke. They're inside of it. They crawled inside, and now I have a giant incredibly heavy piece of carcass in my yard, with 2 dogs inside of it, and they are NOT getting bored of it and coming out. One of them is snoring."

A first-hand account (originally from a Salon.com message board circa 1999) of a woman whose two primitive-type dogs – a Basenji and a New Guinea Singing Dog – found an elk carcass, holed up inside it, and refused to leave it.

An assorted list of my favorite excerpts:

“It’s way too primal in my yard right now.”

“If ever they come out, catching them and returning them to a condition where they can be considered house pets is not going to be, shall we say, pleasant.”

“What if you stand the ribcage on end, wait for them to look out, grab them when they do and pull?” “They wedge their toes between the ribs. And scream.”

“Sometimes, sleep is a mistake, no matter how tired you are. And especially if you are very very tired, and some of your dogs are outside, inside some elks.”

in a follow-up story about a basenji who got his head stuck inside a Thanksgiving turkey, while his two basenji friends gnawed on the outside. “I sent it in to one of the dog magazines but they did not print it, they said it was ‘too contrived.’ Obviously they did not know anything about basenjis.’

“My mother has gotten multiple copies [of this story] from friends, asking if my dogs are *really* that out of control.”

It’s brilliant, and I am so glad it exists on the internet. 

[knerdy-knitter]

@why-animals-do-the-thing please tell me I can laugh at this

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Yes, yes you can. Sometimes living with dogs is not graceful - this is a great example. 

[once-a-polecat]

I hadn’t read this one in YEARS! Still hilarious!

[redshoesnblueskies]

Since reading old message board archive format is more than most people want to wade through, here is 1) just the main story without message board clutter and 2) her letter of validation, in a format easier to read.  I have eliminated the comment thread which, while funny, is nowhere near this funny - you can read it at the link above.

AnneV -  Okay - I know how to take meat away from a dog. How do I take a dog away from meat? This is not, unfortunately, a joke.

AmyC -  Um, can you give us a few more specifics here?

AnneV -  They’re inside of it. They crawled inside, and now I have a giant incredibly heavy piece of carcass in my yard, with 2 dogs inside of it, and they are NOT getting bored of it and coming out. One of them is snoring. I have company arriving in three hours, and my current plan is to 1. put up a tent over said carcass and 2. hang thousands of fly strips inside it. This has been going on since about 6:40 this morning.

AmyC -  Oh. My. God. What sort of carcass is big enough to hold a couple of dogs inside? Given the situation, I’m afraid you’re not going to be create enough of a diversion to get the dogs out of the carrion, unless they like greeting company as much as they like rolling around in dead stuff. Which seems unlikely. Can you turn a hose on the festivities?

Ase Innes-Ker -  I’m sorry Anne. I know this is a problem (and it would have driven me crazy), but it is also incredibly funny.

AnneV -  Elk. Elk are very big this year, because of the rain and good grazing and so forth. They aren’t rolling. They are alternately napping and eating. They each have a ribcage. Other dogs are working on them from the outside. It’s all way too primal in my yard right now. We tried the hose trick. At someone elses house, which is where they climbed in and began to refuse to come out. Many hours ago. I think that the hose mostly helps keep them cool and dislodges little moist snacks for them. hose failed. My new hope is that if they all continue to eat at this rate, they will be finished before the houseguests arrive. The very urban houseguests. Oh, god - I know it’s funny. It’s appalling, and funny, and completely entirely representative of life with dogs.

Kristen R. -  I’m so glad I read this thread, dogless as I am. Dogs in elk. Dogs in elk.

AnneV -  It’s like that childrens book out there - dogs in elk, dogs on elk, dogs around elk, dogs outside elk. And there is some elk inside of, as well as on, each dog at this point.

Elizabeth K -  Anne, aren’t you in Arizona or Nevada? There are elk there? I’m so confused! We definately need to see pics of Gus Pong and Jake in the elk carcass.

AnneV -  I am in New Mexico, but there are elk in both arizona and nevada, yes. There are elk all over the da*n place. They don’t look out very often. If you stand the ribcage on end they scramble to the top and look out, all red. Otherwise, you kinda have to get in there a little bit yourself to really see them. So I think there will not be pictures.

CoseyMo - “all red;” I’m not sure the deeper horror of all this was fully borne in upon me till I saw that little phrase.

AnneV - Well, you know, the Basenji (that would be Jake) is a desert dog, naturally, and infamous for it’s aversion to water. And then, Gus Pong (who is coming to us, live, unamplified and with a terrific reverb which is making me a little dizzy) really doesn’t mind water, but hates to be cold. Or soapy. And both of them can really run. Sprints of up to 35 mph have been clocked. So. If ever they come out, catching them and returning them to a condition where they can be considered house pets is not going to be, shall we say, pleasant.

CoseyMo - What if you stand the ribcage on end, wait for them to look out, grab them when they do and pull?

AnneV - They wedge their toes between the ribs. And scream. We tried that before we brought the elk home from the mountain with dogs inside. Jake nearly took my friends arm off. He’s already short a toe, so he cherishes the 15 that remain.

Linda Hewitt - Have you thought about calling your friendly vet and paying him to come pick up the dogs, elk and letting the dogs stay at the vets overnight. If anyone would know what to do, it would be your vet. It might cost some money, but it would solve the immediate crisis. Keep us posted.

ChristiPeters - Yikes! My sympathy! When I lived in New Mexico, my best friend’s dog (the escape artist) was continually bringing home road kill. When there was no road kill convenient, he would visit the neighbor’s house. Said neighbor slaughtered his own beef. The dog found all kinds of impossibly gross toys in the neighbor’s trash pit. I have always had medium to large dogs. The smallest dog I ever had was a mutt from the SPCA who matured out at just above knee high and about 55 pounds. Our current dog (daughter’s choice) is a Pomeranian. A very small Pomeranian. She’s 8 months old now and not quite 4 pounds. I’m afraid I’ll break her.

Lori Shiraishi - Bet you could fit a whole lot of Pomeranians in that there elk carcass! Anne - my condolences on what must be an unbelievable situation!

AnneV - I did call my vet. He laughed until he was gagging and breathless. He says a lot of things, which can be summed as *what did you expect?* and *no, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog.* He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home. Thanks, Lori. I am almost surrendered to the absurdity of it.

Lori Shiraishi - “He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home.” So he can fall down laughing in person?

AnneV - Basically, yeah. That would be about it.

AmyC - “No, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog.“ Oh, sweet lo*d, Anne. You have my deepest sympathies in this, perhaps the most peculiar of the Gus Pong Adventures. You are truly a woman of superhuman patience. wait – you carried the carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside?

AnneV - “The carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside?” no, well, sort of. My part in the whole thing was to get really stressed about a meeting that I had to go to, and say *yeah, ok, whatever* when it was suggested that the ribcages, since we couldn’t get the dogs out of them and the dogs couldn’t be left there, be brought to my house. Because, you know - I just thought they would get bored of it sooner or later. But it appears to be later, in the misty uncertain future, that they will get bored. Now, they are still interested. And very loud, one singing, one snoring.

Lori Shiraishi - “And very loud, one singing, one snoring.” wow. I can’t even begin to imagine the acoustics involved with singing from the inside of an elk.

AnneV - reverb. lots and lots of reverb.

AnneV - I’ll tell you the thing that is causing me to lose it again and again, and then I have to go back outside and stay there for a while. After the meeting, I said to my (extraordinary) boss, “look, I’ve gotta go home for the rest of the day, I think. Jake and Gus Pong are inside some elk ribcages, and my dad is coming tonight, so I’ve got to get them out somehow.” And he said, pale and huge-eyed, “Annie, how did you explain the elk to the clients?” The poor, poor man thought I had the carcasses brought to work with me. For some reason, I find this deeply funny. (weekend pause)

AnneV - So what we did was put the ribcages (containing dogs) on tarps and drag them around to the side yard, where I figured they would at least be harder to see, and then opened my bedroom window so that the dogs could let me know when they were ready to be plunged into a de-elking solution and let in the house. Then I went to the airport. Came home, no visible elk, no visible dogs. Peeked around the shrubs, and there they were, still in the elk. By this time, they had gnawed out some little portholes between some of the ribs, and you got the occasional very frightening glimpse of something moving around in there if you watched long enough. After a lot of agonizing, I went to bed. I closed the back door, made sure my window was open, talked to the dogs out of it until I as sure they knew it was open, and then I fell asleep. Sometimes, sleep is a mistake, no matter how tired you are. And especially if you are very very tired, and some of your dogs are outside, inside some elks. Because when you are that tired, you sleep through bumping kind of noises, or you kind of think that it’s just the house guests. It wasn’t the house guests. It was my dogs, having an attack of teamwork unprecedented in our domestic history. When I finally woke all the way up, it was to a horrible vision. Somehow, 3 dogs with a combined weight of about 90 pounds, managed to hoist one of the ribcages (the meatier one, of course) up 3 feet to rest on top of the swamp cooler outside the window, and push out the screen. What woke me was Gus Pong, howling in frustration from inside the ribcage, very close to my head, combined with feverish little grunts from Jake, who was standing on the nightstand, bracing himself against the curtains with remarkably bloody little feet. Here are some things I have learned, this Rosh Hashanah weekend: 1. almond milk removes elk blood from curtains and pillowcases, 2. We can all exercise superhuman strength when it comes to getting elk carcasses out of our yard, 3. The sight of elk ribcages hurtling over the fence really frightens the nice deputy sheriff who lives across the street, and 4. the dogs can pop the screens out of the windows, without damaging them, from either side.

AnneV - What I am is really grateful that they didn’t actually get the damn thing in the window, which is clearly the direction they were going in. And that the nice deputy didn’t arrest me for terrifying her with elk parts before dawn.

AmyC - Imagine waking up with a gnawed elk carcass in your bed, like a real-life “Godfather” with an all-dog cast.

AnneV - There is not enough almond milk in the world to solve an event of that kind.

.

Authentication:

The Validity of the Dogs in Elk Story

From http://xenia.media.mit.edu/~solan/dogsinelk/validity.htm

[Rob]: Since publishing the pumpkin version of the Dogs in Elk story, I’ve received dozens of e-mails from people curious about the story’s validity. I’ve also received e-mail from AnneVerchick, owner of the “real” dogs in elk.

I’ve never seen the dogs myself, and I’ve as yet to see a picture of the actual event, but here are some snippets of what Annie had to say. She sent me this 10/28/99:

Hi, Rob - This is AnneVerchick, owner of the dogs in elk. The pumpkin carving is lovely, and, on a smaller, more vegetative scale, really pretty faithful to what was one of the messier experiences of my recent life.

Thanks, and take care. Annie

.

After a couple of e-mail volleys, I finally mustered up the nerve to ask Annie to attest to the validity of the story. She wrote back:

Rob,

Sure, I can attest. I mean, I can tell you that it really did happen. I can ask a couple of people who stopped by to admire the whole scene to get in touch with you, or give you their email addresses and phone numbers.

Does that help at all? I think that it’s easy for me to lose track of how atypical my dog experiences are, in some ways, because like everyone else, what I compare the world to is my experience.

The thing about the dogs in elk thing is this - with the dogs I have, especially Gus Pong, who is a New Guinea Singing Dog, and a complete freak of primitive dogdom, dogs in elk is in some ways a fairly minor event, in that it involved fewer people than usual. Sharing a house with a very primitive, deeply attached and wildly inspired animal has led me into all sorts of situations I never anticipated as a pet owner.

How dogs in elk began is a little odd, without considerable history - ignore now, if you’re not interested. Gus Pong is a New Guinea Singing Dog - currently, they are classified as a subspecies of Dingo, but what they look like is a cross between a German Shepherd and a Shiba Inu. And he is an incredibly fussy eater. In the highlands, they live as semi-pariah dogs in the villages, and their primary use is for hunting. So, after being unable to find a commercial dog food that he would eat at all, I contacted local game processors and butchers. I lucked out. I found a really nice guy who was willing to give me (since game can’t be sold) trim and bones, which turned out to be something Gus Pong (and my other two dogs, Jake and Stella) thought was just fine. You can see, I am sure, where this is going. They had a rich texan come in, and shoot his tags, and not want the meat. So they did a really rough field dress, and called and asked if I wanted to come pick up about 100 lbs of slabcut elk and so forth. I said sure, and mistakenly put Jake and Gus in the car before driving up. Well, they got out of the car (One of slider windows was cracked, which I didn’t realize) and you know the rest.

The original chain of posts begins here: http://tabletalk.salon.com/webx?14@@.ee90352/1317 which is in TableTalk, a forum at Salon, an ezine that added a webcrossing forum to it. That’s why I am so astonished that it made it all over the web - and really all over. My mother has gotten multiple copies from friends, asking if my dogs are *really* that out of control.

Take care, and let me know if you’d like to speak to someone other than me who was there.

Annie

[musicoftheellipses]

I first read this in its original location (probably in 1999, yes) and occasionally make reference to it, so naturally I have to reblog.

[aplpaca]

if youre ever feeling bad just look at pictures of albatross chicks bc theyre adorable but also fucking hilarious like the parents look like they go to pta meetings in full makeup carrying gucci handbags and the babies look like funky little muppets and i love them

[urbanism]

dont speak to me or my versace dress or my son ever again

[catasters]

[musicoftheellipses]

The Purrsistence of Memory?

[33v0]

what is it about capybaras that attracts groups of small animals to them? Its not just mammals either its like birds and turtles and frogs too

[33v0]

look at this shit

They radiate peace

[lizardsister]

capybaras are friend shaped

[gaylor-moon]

I love this post

[cantavier]

This is actually a cool thing I know about!

In the wild capybaras live in large groups so naturally a female capybara will take care of not only her own offspring, but all of the other offspring in the group. So capybaras are super great mothers who will adopt pretty much anything and take care of it.

Lots of places that rescue different animals will give a group of baby animals to a capybara to raise if they have one.

Like puppies

Ducks

Deer

Emus

They are just super calm animals so they’re naturally great at mothering or just existing in a group!

[screambirdscreaming]

mom shaped

[offtherecordsarahc]

One thing I’m learning from being a “boss” is that I should be way more willing to give direct, explicit instructions to people. Decisions never, ever, emerge naturally from unstructured conversation. I have to actually make the calls, and assign people tasks. Even in collaborations with people who don’t “work for me”, if a project is my idea, I have to tell everyone how I want it to work.

Giving instructions feels from the inside like i’m being way too bossy and arrogant, but I’m getting more and more evidence that people don’t read it as “asshole” behavior, and that in fact they’re more likely to feel confused or abandoned due to me not being hands-on *enough* about giving instructions.

I’ve also known other people who have the dysfunctional management style of going “what? I thought you were going to handle it. What do you mean you wanted guidance from me?!” and their projects flounder due to that failure to actually give instructions. I don’t want to make the same mistake.

Telling people what to do: it’s actually prosocial behavior in a leader!

[musicoftheellipses]

I agree with this. And I’ve found it to be true in musical ensembles too, where “being the boss” (sometimes a nebulous concept, in small groups) has felt particularly awkward because 1) who am I to tell people what to do anyway, in any context, and 2) the thing I am trying to make people do is often not anything I can say is objectively better, but just my artistic opinion. But when I’m supposed to lead (and especially if I’m the composer) being explicit about what I’m looking for is a kindness rather than an imposition: the musicians want to do what I want them to, and by not saying it I was making them guess.

From the other side I’ve usually found it easy to work with people who will say exactly what they want, as long as they’re open to a reasonable conversation if what they’re asking isn’t something I can do.

[fer1972]

[gildedgravestone]

Vintage Porcelain Covered With Hand-Painted Ants

This would stress me out

[thedesertmother]

I showed this to my friend and all she said was “they did an excellent job. I do not like this at all” and that really summed it up

[musicoftheellipses]

I think this is delightful.

(My six-year-old self would hate it. I used to have a nature book that had a huge picture of ants eating a citrus fruit and I would always skip that page because i Did Not Want To Look at the swarming pile of ants.)

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Mystery surrounds humpback whale found dead in depths of Brazil’s Amazon jungle

Wildlife experts only found huge mammal after following birds of prey scavenging on carcass

Brazilian wildlife experts have been left baffled after discovering a dead humpback whale in the Amazon rainforest.

The 10-ton mammal was found in the jungle undergrowth on the island of Marajo, which sits at the mouth of the Amazon River.

Although scientists presume the enormous creature was hurled onshore during a storm, they do not understand how it came so far inland or why it was swimming off the coast in the first place.

Officials from Para state’s health, sanitation and environment department said they only found the 11m-long whale after following the birds of prey which were scavenging on its huge carcass.

The remains were deposited in such a remote part of the mangrove swamp in the Amazonian delta that it took two trips for the wildlife experts to reach the site.

Marine specialists from the Bicho D’agua Institute, a conservation group based on Marajo, are part of the team examining the whale, which is thought to have died several days before it was found.

Continue reading.

[africanaquarian]

this that crazy shit that start happening right before the world ends

[a-melior-ate]

Not to be african. But this is some witchcraft.

[musicoftheellipses]

“What’s this thing suddenly coming towards me very fast? Very very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like … ow … ound … round … ground! That’s it! That’s a good name – ground! I wonder if it will be friends with me?”

[sameoldsin]

people should just embrace jewel tones already if I see one more house entirely decorated in washed out neutral colours I’m gonna sue someone

[sameoldsin]

hell is not a fiery demon pit its a never ending white and cream minimalist apartment, every time someone paints a room entirely white and adds a pale blue throw cushion for “a splash of colour” they are carrying out the work of the devil

[quasi-normalcy]

Revolt against the tyranny of beige!

[musicoftheellipses]

Reblogging because 1) yes and 2) I have thought about making basically this post but for clothing.

[violinfemmes]

[musicoftheellipses]

Called out.

[glumshoe]

Clarification: is there a set, standard amount of time, such as “one second”, that a “measure” of music lasts…? I understand that “4/4 time” means “four beats per measure”, but unless the length of time a “measure” lasts is consistent between songs, how does that make sense?

[queenofthefae]

absolutely not; timing in music is not dependent on measure length, but instead based entirely on tempo. there ARE certain time signatures that are typically faster, such as 6/8, but there is no true standard and even 6/8 can be slower than 4/4, depending on the tempo. hope that helps!

[glumshoe]

who is responsible for this

[executeness]

Larghissimo — very, very slow (20 bpm and below) Translation*: plenty of time to get distracted between measures. Or notes.

Grave — slow and solemn (20–40 bpm) Translation: just serious enough for nervous laughter during rests. Avoid eye contact with anyone.

Lento — slowly (40–60 bpm) Translation: it is actually possible to fall asleep while playing an instrument, to the confusion and horror of your teacher.

Largo — broadly (40–60 bpm) Translation: dramatic grand gestures while sober. Think sweeping.

Larghetto — rather broadly (60–66 bpm) Translation: dramatic grand gestures while drunk. Slightly more manic or erratic

Adagio — slow and stately (literally, “at ease”) (66–76 bpm) Translation: Julie Andrews, Queen of Genovia, is entering the room. Plenty of time to focus on hitting the right notes b/c u cannot fuck this up.

Adagietto — rather slow (70–80 bpm) Translation: the high school graduating class of 2018 is entering the room. 40% elated 70% bored. Mostly restrained by the staff, still want this over with.

Andante moderato — a bit slower than andante. Translation: a steady meander in the woods. Fast enough to be interesting, slow enough to savor.

Andante — at a walking pace (76–108 bpm) Translation: CPR speed! Do you have Stayin Alive or Another One Bites the Dust in your head? Either way good luck remembering your melody now.

Andantino – slightly faster than andante. Translation: Just saw someone you do NOT want to talk to but you don’t want to draw attention. Always feels slightly forced. That’s fine.

Moderato — moderately (108–120 bpm) Translation: Marching is the tenuous balance between comfortable speed for walking and comfortable speed for music. Much easier when not in a parade.

Allegretto — moderately fast (but less so than allegro). Translation: the piece is probably in moderato but you’re having fun! You totally got this! Everything’s a bit fast but you’re still hitting all the notes! Go you!

Allegro moderato — moderately quick (112–124 bpm) Translation: Approximately dancing speed, depending on your confidence and the degree to which you know where all your limbs are at any given time. Jam a little in your seat. It’s okay.

Allegro — fast, quickly and bright (120–168 bpm). Playful, for flirting without words. Wink as needed without losing your place.

Vivace — lively and fast (≈140 bpm) (quicker than allegro) Translation: That was probably too much coffee but it’s FINE. It’s probably not physically possible for your heart to beat out of your chest.

Vivacissimo — very fast and lively. Translation: Either you’re showing off or the composer wanted you to suffer. Probably the former.

Allegrissimo — very fast. Translation: You’re not one of those aerobic respirators are you? You can breathe when we finish this piece. Hold on for the ride.

Presto — very fast (168–200 bpm) Translation: use popcorn popping as your metronome. Doesn’t actually have a regular beat but at this speed neither do you.

Prestissimo — extremely fast (more than 200bpm) Translation: you don’t know what’s happening and neither does your conductor if you have one. Reeds are splitting, strings are snapping, wind instruments can’t feel their tongues. Flail your fingers and prey.*.

(http://www.classicalmusiccity.com/search/article.php?vars=446/Basic-Tempo-Markings.html)

*I haven’t touched my flute in four years

**Yes I meant prey I’m a godless carnivore

[starfoozle]

#is this the schmidt pain index of tempo #did you personally allow different tempos to bite you

[the-legend-orpheus]

We musicians take the phrase “time is relative” to a new and painful level.

[musicoftheellipses]

Extremely accurate tempo descriptions.

[tastefullyoffensive]

[prismatic-bell]

HERE’S THE THING THOUGH

I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click

And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”

So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is

“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”

I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:

“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”

I accidentally called the director of the FBI.

My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.

[kuroba101]

This is my new favourite story.

[therobotmonster]

When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.

There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server. 

The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors. 

During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”

So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound. 

I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.

So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…

“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”

It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.

There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.

The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring. 

[composerinprogress]

dynamics yo

Okay soooooooo I know how I want this quintet to sound in my head, but there’s a section where neither mf nor mp will cut it. SO, I kinda did this

Will performers take this seriously? Is this allowed? I figured that we’re in the contemporary era, and modern composers vomit all sorts of arbitrary markings in their own scores, so why not?

[flutejesus]

Tbh if I saw this I’d just aim for between mp and mf so

[maddogmp3]

The true middle we all needed, but didn’t know we needed

[sunflowers-and-bullshit]

I…..I…..I…..don’t know what to say. I’m almost satisfied by this since I’ve always wondered about the middle of mp and mf…..

[composerinprogress]

okay, but if m means blatantly in the middle, then what would this dynamic marking mean? 

[apolloboe]

more middle

[you-had-me-at-e-flat-major]

same energy as sibelius writing “molto moderato”

[handageddon]

[musicoftheellipses]

If I saw “mm” my first thought would be that the intent is to play it at the level that causes me to make little satisfied noises to myself. Which is probably the correct volume.

[sixpenceee]

An extremely rare set of 16th century knives, engraved with musical scores which allowed guests to sing at the end of the meal. (Photo by Johan Osterman)

[musicoftheellipses]

Wouldn’t you worry about everyone going sharp?