Congartulations to her and happy birthday.emc wrote:Today is a good day...... my wife's birthday!
She's a long time Beatle fan. No accounting for taste.Click to play embedded YouTube video.
Happy Birthday, Ms. Ed!emc wrote:Today is a good day...... my wife's birthday!
and Happy Birthday, Ms. 123!BMAONE23 wrote:Congartulations to her and happy birthday.
Tomorrow is my wife's birthday.
Great women always seem to be born near the same day
Does she know about Carol Post?emc wrote:
Today is a good day...... my wife's birthday!
emc wrote:One of the things I enjoy about posting is linking to something someone else has done that expresses what I think or feel… [snip]
In my mind an artist is successful when he/she “speaks” to others through their work. If an artist strikes a chord residing in another’s cortex, there can be a connection deeper than surface tension. It is typically harder to put into words than it is to experience. A beautiful work of art highlights an experience between at least two people and communicates either a feeling or a memory that creates a virtual connection between the transmitter and receiver. So, how’s your day? Does anyone else express it for you?
Peter Gabriel – Solsbury Hill
Climbing up on Solsbury Hill
I could see the city light
Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night
He was something to observe
Came in close, I heard a voice
Standing stretching every nerve
I had to listen had no choice
I did not believe the information
Just had to trust imagination
My heart going boom boom, boom
"Son," he said, "Grab your things, I've come to take you home."
To keeping silence I resigned
My friends would think I was a nut
Turning water into wine
Open doors would soon be shut
So I went from day to day
Tho' my life was in a rut
'Till I thought of what I'd say
Which connection I should cut
I was feeling part of the scenery
I walked right out of the machinery
My heart going boom boom boom
"Hey," he said, "grab your things, I've come to take you home."
Yeah back home
When illusion spin her net
I'm never where I want to be
And liberty she pirouette
When I think that I am free
Watched by empty silhouettes
Who close their eyes, but still can see
No one taught them etiquette
I will show another me
Today I don't need a replacement
I'll tell them what the smile on my face meant
My heart going boom boom boom
"Hey," I said, "You can keep my things, they've come to take me home."
(And play it at least once a year! ) 
Better get at them chores though. 
). I like ABBA, and I often love when good flutists play their instruments, so here are Gheorghe Zamfir and Dana Dragomir playing ABBA's Chiquitita on pan flutes. Glad you liked the Bach. Owlice is broadening my musical perspective!Carpet Crawlers – Genesis
There is lambswool under my naked feet.
The wool is soft and warm,
- gives off some kind of heat.
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.
The fleas cling to the golden fleece,
Hoping they'll find peace.
Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid.
There's no hiding in my memory.
There's no room to avoid.
The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridor.
For my second sight of people, they've more lifeblood than before.
They're moving in time to a heavy wooden door,
Where the needles eye is winking, closing in on the poor.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
We’ve got to get in to get out
We’ve got to get in to get out
We’ve got to get in to get out.
There's only one direction in the faces that I see;
It's upward to the ceiling, where the chambers said to be.
Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree.
They are pulled up by the magnet, believing they're free.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out.
Mild mannered supermen are held in kryptonite,
And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing
Bright.
Through a door a harvest feast is lit by candlelight;
It's the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out.
The porcelain manikin with shattered skin fears attack.
The eager pack lift up their pitchers - they carry all they lack.
The liquid has congealed, which has seeped out through the crack,
And the tickler takes his stickleback.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out.
Hi Owlice,owlice wrote:Ed, she surely can play that there guitar! I don't know why I don't have a recording of these works on lute, though; I should get one.
Thanks for your kind words! Laundry update: one load in washer, one load in dryer, one completed load on top of dryer, as the tall child didn't take his last load out of the dryer when it was done! (He'll use the dryer as a closet if permitted to, keeping his clean clothes there and removing items as he needs something to wear.)
Bach under the stars -- that would be a lovely way to listen to Bach! Thanks for sharing that!
