Amy H. Sturgis (eldritchhobbit) wrote,
Amy H. Sturgis

  • Music:

"let us taste thy morn and evening breath"

* First of all, you can help st_crispins' son with his math class project by answering a one-question poll about your favorite color. He needs 100 responses, so please add your vote!

* Second, I am pleased with myself that I have seen fourteen of TechnoBlog's Fifteen Geek Movies to See Before You Die. (I still need to see Repo Man.) I would add others titles to the ranks, from Blade Runner and Invasion of the Body Snatchers to Free Enterprise and Galaxy Quest, but I certainly agree with many of the choices listed, the big exception being The Fifth Element. Which movies would you add to the list?

* Though I have lived in or around Nashville for some years now, most of my experience with city is bound up in Belmont University, Vanderbilt University, or organizations that first sprang up from them. One of the things I've enjoyed most about Nashville beyond these, however, is the historic Ryman Auditorium. I'm told it is second in the nation only to the Salt Lake Tabernacle, where the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performs, in acoustic design. (I've had the good fortune to hear a concert at the Salt Lake Tabernacle, and I can say that while its acoustics are undeniably spectacular, it lacks the intimacy and warmth that I like about the Ryman.) I have seen some wonderful performers play the Ryman - Tori Amos (twice), Emmylou Harris, Sarah McLachlan, Rufus Wainright, Nanci Griffith, Iris DeMent, and Jeffrey Gaines come immediately to mind - and I have been hoping to attend one more concert there before we move. So I am doubly excited about seeing Loreena McKennitt, one of my very favorite artists, perform there tonight. It should be a fantastic show, and an ideal way for me to remember the Ryman.

* Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!

O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

The hills tell each other, and the listening
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

- William Blake, "To Spring," 1820

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