Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Great American Graffiti Race
You will never have the fun our generation had with cars, because they are different today. Boys could take the old cars apart, and cut them, put them back piece meal, and tailor them to fit their own taste. This is not available anymore unless you can find an old car that has not been chopped. These were called "chop cars" or "hot rods".
More American Graffiti 2-LP Soundtrack 1979 - Intros: Wolfman Jack
This has to be part of our history!
Goodnight My Love
I heard this song over and over, and always forgot the name of it....Finally I captured it and bought the album, love to listen to it!
The Doors - Riders on the Storm (original album version) - Music Video
What potential, what a waste to lose him so early!
Sound and Space in Renaissance Venice
Interesting thought....it appears that art and music do mimic each other. So....with this thought in mind....I read the description of this book.....
While composers of sacred music in 16th-century Venice were devising increasingly complex choral polyphony, Venetian architects began to develop new configurations of sacred space. This fascinating book explores the direct relationship between architectural design and sacred music in Renaissance Venice. Deborah Howard and Laura Moretti combine historical research into the architectural and liturgical traditions of a dozen Venetian churches with the results of a parallel series of scientific surveys and live choral experiments of the acoustic properties of the chosen buildings.
I then recalled a two hour ride last week from Maine to Mass., with the "grands" in the 20 year old's car. The music was not really music, because there was no melody, just an incessant cacophony of noise, whether drum beats, or chants of the street , that we now call music. It this is the music that is the mode of the coming society, what is the architecture of this generation going to spawn? Will we lose the grace and beauty of arches, vaulted ceilings and flowing parts, and face a revolution of angles, odd shapes and mismatches that mirrors the lack of melody, the lack of flowing sound that teases the ear to hear more?
Here is something to browse, see if you can hear the street chants and drums in the visions we are creating! Just browsing can be interesting.
While composers of sacred music in 16th-century Venice were devising increasingly complex choral polyphony, Venetian architects began to develop new configurations of sacred space. This fascinating book explores the direct relationship between architectural design and sacred music in Renaissance Venice. Deborah Howard and Laura Moretti combine historical research into the architectural and liturgical traditions of a dozen Venetian churches with the results of a parallel series of scientific surveys and live choral experiments of the acoustic properties of the chosen buildings.
I then recalled a two hour ride last week from Maine to Mass., with the "grands" in the 20 year old's car. The music was not really music, because there was no melody, just an incessant cacophony of noise, whether drum beats, or chants of the street , that we now call music. It this is the music that is the mode of the coming society, what is the architecture of this generation going to spawn? Will we lose the grace and beauty of arches, vaulted ceilings and flowing parts, and face a revolution of angles, odd shapes and mismatches that mirrors the lack of melody, the lack of flowing sound that teases the ear to hear more?
Here is something to browse, see if you can hear the street chants and drums in the visions we are creating! Just browsing can be interesting.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Scientists Take Quantum Steps Toward Teleportation : NPR
Scientists Take Quantum Steps Toward Teleportation : NPR
This ties in with a new energy healing called Matrix Engergetics
This is very surprising! Read it and follow the directions.!
This ties in with a new energy healing called Matrix Engergetics
This is very surprising! Read it and follow the directions.!
Teleportation Is Real – But Don't Try It at Home - TIME
Teleportation Is Real – But Don't Try It at Home - TIME
This should get your "kids" interested in science. Nothing is impossible in this world.
Years ago, I said out of the blue, nothing to back it up...."someday we will be able to do
what they do on Star Trek, we will be able to....say "Beam me up,Scottie" and it will happen
My friend who was much smarter than me said, "You can tell you do not know much
about science." I was really sad, to think that my imagination was shot down.
This should get your "kids" interested in science. Nothing is impossible in this world.
Years ago, I said out of the blue, nothing to back it up...."someday we will be able to do
what they do on Star Trek, we will be able to....say "Beam me up,Scottie" and it will happen
My friend who was much smarter than me said, "You can tell you do not know much
about science." I was really sad, to think that my imagination was shot down.
IBM Research: Sometimes Nature is the Best Medicine
IBM Research: Sometimes Nature is the Best Medicine: "Written by guest bloggers Prof. Marcel Jaspars and Prof. Rainer Ebel, from the University of Aberdeen At the University of Aberdeen we have ..."
The True Story of the Philadelphia Experiment 1
Here is some of what I was watching, there is more on You Tube...
The UnMuseum - The Philadelphia Experiment
http://www.unmuseum.org/philex.htm
The other night, I watched this fascinating story , on The History Channel, I think, and I could not stop watching it, as I wonder if it was possible to experiment with the Unified field theory. It appears that there are a number of unseen dimensions, so why couldn't it be possible to enter other dimensions with the right conditions. Of course death is the right condition to enter another dimension.
Now, Steven Hawking is saying that there is not a God, because there is too much redundancy in the Universe. I wonder if that reason is the right reason to believe that there is no God. It appears that redundancy is common in the universe and maybe that is God's Plan, who are we to know. Perhaps there are a number of people that exist as you, in different regions, and in different life styles, as there are other universes where we exist in other worlds...and on and on.
The other night, I watched this fascinating story , on The History Channel, I think, and I could not stop watching it, as I wonder if it was possible to experiment with the Unified field theory. It appears that there are a number of unseen dimensions, so why couldn't it be possible to enter other dimensions with the right conditions. Of course death is the right condition to enter another dimension.
Now, Steven Hawking is saying that there is not a God, because there is too much redundancy in the Universe. I wonder if that reason is the right reason to believe that there is no God. It appears that redundancy is common in the universe and maybe that is God's Plan, who are we to know. Perhaps there are a number of people that exist as you, in different regions, and in different life styles, as there are other universes where we exist in other worlds...and on and on.
The Sounds of Stars: Ringing Like a Bell : Discovery News#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1
The Sounds of Stars: Ringing Like a Bell : Discovery News#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1#mkcpgn=rssnws1
Interesting news about our far away world. Wonder how we can connect space sound with sound and space in renaissance Venice.???
Interesting news about our far away world. Wonder how we can connect space sound with sound and space in renaissance Venice.???
Secrets of the Heart
A novel about growing up in a New England town from the point of view of love, and how it affected the people born between the first world war and the second world war.
We were the pre- baby boomers, we got none of the credit for what came to be, but we were the ones who learned how propaganda can influence the world, from our growing up during the seond world war. It was our generation, that brought tv broadcasting to what it became by the time the baby boomers were even watching it. We were the first of the teenage cult! Sevnteen Magazine grew up with us!
We were a lost, overlooked generation that became the most powerful generation in the world, those born between the two wars. A small novel that just touches on the core of the generation, personalized by love stories.
We were the pre- baby boomers, we got none of the credit for what came to be, but we were the ones who learned how propaganda can influence the world, from our growing up during the seond world war. It was our generation, that brought tv broadcasting to what it became by the time the baby boomers were even watching it. We were the first of the teenage cult! Sevnteen Magazine grew up with us!
We were a lost, overlooked generation that became the most powerful generation in the world, those born between the two wars. A small novel that just touches on the core of the generation, personalized by love stories.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Drill Down: Going Deep With NYC’s Second Avenue Subway Project | Wired Science | Wired.com
Drill Down: Going Deep With NYC’s Second Avenue Subway Project Wired Science Wired.com
this is where my grandson Alex is working! He graduated from Wentworth and has chosen
to accept a job on this project deep underground in New York City
this is where my grandson Alex is working! He graduated from Wentworth and has chosen
to accept a job on this project deep underground in New York City
The Real Story: The Hunt for Red October: Sneak Peek - Smithsonian Channel
The Real Story: The Hunt for Red October: Sneak Peek - Smithsonian Channel This is a diversion on a rainy day,we are going to have two of them, Friday, Saturday . So, let the hurricane run by and sit back, enjoy the sneak peek.
This was a fabulous book, if you know someone that never saw the movie or read the book, they will really love it for a gift.
This was a fabulous book, if you know someone that never saw the movie or read the book, they will really love it for a gift.
Secrets of the Heart
Meggie Pitter grows up in Framingham, Mass., and tells her story as she lies dying, wandering between the worlds, engaged in conversation with her friends, as they too, tell her about their lives and loves
This is part of Meggie's story...remembering Christmas as a child.
Chapter 3
The Years of the Family
In the beginning, there was no big world around us. We were infants
toddlers, and then just kids. At about age four, we began to have memory.
We were under the spell of goodness until December 7, 1941.
Until that date, we knew of only one worldly event, the birth of the
Christ child in Bethlehem. Often I thought, Bethlehem sounds like “birth of
Him.” We children could relate to that far away event because Christ too,
was a child. I saw him only in that manner, when we said our prayers at
night. We loved to celebrate his birthday. Looking back, it seems that in our
innocence, we came closer than we ever would to the divine.
In those days, I imagined that everyone had a home like we did, with
a mom and dad, a family car, a dog, our own bedrooms, and an extended
family who visited at least weekly. Yes, all that and the magic of Christmas.
As we reached for the divine, Christmas fueled our imagination.
Christmas morning was spectacular. It was heralded the night before by
listening and singing along with Christmas carolers on the radio, and we
learned that it was a treasured evening. Then as we settled into the quiet of
our bedrooms, my brother and I could close our eyes and imagine where
Santa might be on his journey around the world. In this small way, we
learned to dream of the future, to meditate on something that brought love
to the children of the world.
Our home smelled like a wonderful forest. The six-foot fir, decorated and
exciting to us, nestled between the twin chairs of mom and dad. We were
lucky if it snowed so we could be transported into a world of snowy vistas
where snowflakes looked like precious lace and ice sparkled like diamonds
in a fairy kingdom bustling with Santa’s toy makers. Mom wove the stories
for us as we sat under the tree, lost in the dream she created, and our eyes
grew large with the wonders of the world.
We learned that Santa was really St. Nicolas, and he helped make all the
children of the world happy on the birthday of baby Jesus! Mom told us the
story, popular during the Depression, of “The Poor Little Match Girl.” I
wanted to hear it again and again, how she had suffered to save her mother
from starvation, but in the end had lost her own life. I cried in disbelief.
It was the beginning of learning that we had to make our own goodness
in the world. We believed in love as we hurried to bed with all the love we
had in our little hearts!
Christmas morn always dawned with the feeling of a spectacular event
about to unfold. Dad had gone to take care of the furnace. We could hear
the steam starting to ping and bang the radiators. Maybe this woke us?
Or was it the luscious smell of turkey that was wafting through the early
morning hours since mom had placed it in the oven before she went to bed?
Ah, Christmas was and always will be for children!
The magic of Christmas was even greater if Santa ate the cookies and
drank the milk we left on the kitchen table as softly falling snow blanketed
the ground around us. I thought that Santa was always better off to have
snow for his sleigh to slide on before he rose into the air.
Christmas morning, we checked the kitchen table first for crumbs then
rushed to the tree to identify our presents. In the night, frost had crept in
and left its mark on the windows. It grew almost all the way up the thin
glass to the sash. As the house began to grow warm, mom, in her special
way, captained the day, always steering a strong course through the mishaps
of conversation, interaction, and childishness.
Are we the same people who celebrated the birth of Christ by creating
the spirit of a magical time on that special day? How many times did we
recite “The Night before Christmas “with wonder and awe before that fateful
December day in 1941?
The scene melts away with the melting window frost as the steam heat
rises under the windows, blending all into the mists of the past. The water
on the windowsills is all that remains of the magical frost. Did the crying
windows know the future and begin the mourning for those special days that
would be lost forever when our small family shared an experience of love
with the world? Is family still strong enough to do that in this new world?
Movie scenes of my life flicker in my head as I recall moments in time
that never truly leave us. I first saw the jitterbug (swing) in my Aunt Mary’s
farm house kitchen. My cousin Bob was getting ready to leave for the service.
“Java Jive” blasted out of the phonograph, and Bob grabbed his girl, Beverly,
to take over the small kitchen in the most fabulous dance I had ever seen.
I could not wait to learn it!
Music was everywhere in our lives. Mom played the piano, dad, the
accordion, my brother Frank, the clarinet. I played piano and accordion.
We played and sang the songs of the time. At the end of the war, songs
with abandon became popular, like “Let it Snow, Let it Snow” by Vaughn
Monroe, and I especially remember, “Five Minutes More” by Frank Sinatra.
Love was back in the world, and we could finish growing up!
This is part of Meggie's story...remembering Christmas as a child.
Chapter 3
The Years of the Family
In the beginning, there was no big world around us. We were infants
toddlers, and then just kids. At about age four, we began to have memory.
We were under the spell of goodness until December 7, 1941.
Until that date, we knew of only one worldly event, the birth of the
Christ child in Bethlehem. Often I thought, Bethlehem sounds like “birth of
Him.” We children could relate to that far away event because Christ too,
was a child. I saw him only in that manner, when we said our prayers at
night. We loved to celebrate his birthday. Looking back, it seems that in our
innocence, we came closer than we ever would to the divine.
In those days, I imagined that everyone had a home like we did, with
a mom and dad, a family car, a dog, our own bedrooms, and an extended
family who visited at least weekly. Yes, all that and the magic of Christmas.
As we reached for the divine, Christmas fueled our imagination.
Christmas morning was spectacular. It was heralded the night before by
listening and singing along with Christmas carolers on the radio, and we
learned that it was a treasured evening. Then as we settled into the quiet of
our bedrooms, my brother and I could close our eyes and imagine where
Santa might be on his journey around the world. In this small way, we
learned to dream of the future, to meditate on something that brought love
to the children of the world.
Our home smelled like a wonderful forest. The six-foot fir, decorated and
exciting to us, nestled between the twin chairs of mom and dad. We were
lucky if it snowed so we could be transported into a world of snowy vistas
where snowflakes looked like precious lace and ice sparkled like diamonds
in a fairy kingdom bustling with Santa’s toy makers. Mom wove the stories
for us as we sat under the tree, lost in the dream she created, and our eyes
grew large with the wonders of the world.
We learned that Santa was really St. Nicolas, and he helped make all the
children of the world happy on the birthday of baby Jesus! Mom told us the
story, popular during the Depression, of “The Poor Little Match Girl.” I
wanted to hear it again and again, how she had suffered to save her mother
from starvation, but in the end had lost her own life. I cried in disbelief.
It was the beginning of learning that we had to make our own goodness
in the world. We believed in love as we hurried to bed with all the love we
had in our little hearts!
Christmas morn always dawned with the feeling of a spectacular event
about to unfold. Dad had gone to take care of the furnace. We could hear
the steam starting to ping and bang the radiators. Maybe this woke us?
Or was it the luscious smell of turkey that was wafting through the early
morning hours since mom had placed it in the oven before she went to bed?
Ah, Christmas was and always will be for children!
The magic of Christmas was even greater if Santa ate the cookies and
drank the milk we left on the kitchen table as softly falling snow blanketed
the ground around us. I thought that Santa was always better off to have
snow for his sleigh to slide on before he rose into the air.
Christmas morning, we checked the kitchen table first for crumbs then
rushed to the tree to identify our presents. In the night, frost had crept in
and left its mark on the windows. It grew almost all the way up the thin
glass to the sash. As the house began to grow warm, mom, in her special
way, captained the day, always steering a strong course through the mishaps
of conversation, interaction, and childishness.
Are we the same people who celebrated the birth of Christ by creating
the spirit of a magical time on that special day? How many times did we
recite “The Night before Christmas “with wonder and awe before that fateful
December day in 1941?
The scene melts away with the melting window frost as the steam heat
rises under the windows, blending all into the mists of the past. The water
on the windowsills is all that remains of the magical frost. Did the crying
windows know the future and begin the mourning for those special days that
would be lost forever when our small family shared an experience of love
with the world? Is family still strong enough to do that in this new world?
Movie scenes of my life flicker in my head as I recall moments in time
that never truly leave us. I first saw the jitterbug (swing) in my Aunt Mary’s
farm house kitchen. My cousin Bob was getting ready to leave for the service.
“Java Jive” blasted out of the phonograph, and Bob grabbed his girl, Beverly,
to take over the small kitchen in the most fabulous dance I had ever seen.
I could not wait to learn it!
Music was everywhere in our lives. Mom played the piano, dad, the
accordion, my brother Frank, the clarinet. I played piano and accordion.
We played and sang the songs of the time. At the end of the war, songs
with abandon became popular, like “Let it Snow, Let it Snow” by Vaughn
Monroe, and I especially remember, “Five Minutes More” by Frank Sinatra.
Love was back in the world, and we could finish growing up!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Blue Man Group | About Charles Playhouse
Blue Man Group About Charles Playhouse This is the old Storyland that was part of Boston nightclubs scene.
Earl Bostic great sax player
We went to see him at Storyland, in Boston, when we were teens! Between Storyland and The Totem Pole, we had music. I remember going on a date to Storyland to see Gene Krupa, and Ella Fitzgerald , too!
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