Friday, October 28, 2016
Thursday, October 27, 2016
The Bee’s Knees
Monday was warm, in the sun anyway. It's nearly Halloween and we haven’t seen a hard frost yet. I went out to see if any of my little buddies were still around. Sure enough, there were still a few hard at work, getting those last bits of pollen before winter sets in.
As I watched them, one landed on my sweater, probably to pick up a little warmth, before going back to his harvest on the last warm day of the year.
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Miracle on 36th
Merlin’s Pub, Minneapolis 22 October, 2016
The show must go on.
Even Batty, the homebody, needs to get out from time to time.
A little music, a little brew—it’s all right.
Rich and his band, down at the pub, playing the jukebox of my life.
Hitting it off with the person next to me, we even sing harmony on a few numbers.
Little Feat, Van, Bob, you know the drill.
Some other, lesser, lights, but still worthy: Prine, Clark, Hunter.
The accordion player is gone tonight—he needed his pacemaker changed.
It’s tough getting old.
A singer who was supposed to sit in sits in the E.R. with a broken wrist.
A call for volunteers, a woman comes up from the back of the room.
After a few words with the band they glide into Gershwin’s Summertime.
She begins to sing.
And the heavens open.
Monday, October 24, 2016
Mondays in Iceland - #82
the favorite trip
I just got a whizz-bang new phone that has a camera, so I can finally show off the rollerblading trip I do that renews my faith and love for this odd land. It starts along Snorrabraut, then towards the airport and down past the fake beach at Nauthólsvík. Then I wrap around the airport and make towards Vesturbær, where I pass the little fish embedded in the pavement and the fishing sheds left over from a previous incarnation of this part of Reykjavík.
Then it's a sneak through the path that ends near the KR football stadium, and out onto the path facing Esja, looking fabulous and snowy today. This bit's usually a battle with the wind that's sweeping in from the open sea beyond the mouth of the bay, and when it's low tide there's a good fresh smell of seaweed and other things. Today there was a trio of oystercatchers doing their goofy parade around in the water, and as always, plenty of gulls.
Further along is this shed which must be used for drying things because on peaceful afternoons it's a pretty stinky section of pavement. Carry on though, because just beyond it is Grótta, the lovely lighthouse that marks the tip of Seltjarnarnes. Today I came upon a photo shoot in the grass there, so I took a surreptitious photo of the action, and then turned towards the open expanse ahead. Further along this path, before turning at the golf course, the dunes get high so all that's visible of the sea is little snatches of blue between the grass.
On the other side of the road, heading back along the lower part of the peninsula, I look back towards the mountains, that today got engulfed in clouds, then inspect the bird life on the pond there. Three swans today and a lot of threatening clouds.
From here it's a sail through the yellowing grass along a more gentle shore, although today there was still quite a lot of kelp and loose sand on the path. I stopped for a drink of water at one of the conveniently placed water fountains. A little further on and I'm in the middle of Seltjarnarnes center, where the swimming pool is under major renovations. Turn right down a little skinny walking path and then its neighborhood streets for a while, where today the Saturday duvet-airing tradition was in full swing.
I come out again along the sea in Vesturbær, and retrace my tracks towards the airport, pass the soccer fields, past this sea wall that blooms with mustard-colored lichen. At Nauthólsvík again I have a moment of truth, whether to go down along Fossvogur a little further, and then knock myself out climbing up the full height of Öskjuhlíð, or to turn back to Hotel Loftleiðir. I took the second option today, and passed a wonderfully dilapidated suitcase that someone had ejected at the side of the path.
From there it's a short homestretch, and if the weather's not looking so scary like it was today, I sometimes continue to the other side again, where I cruise to the Sólfar sculpture and see what tourists are there inspecting it. If I could, I would do this trip every single day- the landscape is lovely, the air delicious, and the seasonal changes make the view different every time.
Posted by ECS 27 October 2007 at Reykjavík Harbour Watch
Reposted with permission
Friday, October 21, 2016
… are made for? There may be no article of clothing that has as many varied iconic associations.
Work boots; "are those steel toe?"
Thirsty Boots: 60s folk trivia
Jack boots: militarism
Gypsy Boots: now there's some early 60's trivia for you!
Boots of Spanish Leather: appropriate in light of a recent award.
Cowboy boots: originally work boots, but now a whole genre in itself
Beatle Boots: another genre
and, of course, (you didn't think I'd forget it, do you?):
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Jóhann Jóhannsson at the Cedar
My favorite Icelandic film composer was in town last night. I have more of his music than any Icelandic artist except Björk, so for me it was a "must-see." Although his live "performances" are somewhat static, his ideas are anything but. A perfect melding of electronica and classical, he can be challenging at times but can also be strangely uplifting. His soundtrack to "The Miners Hymns" is considered a modern classic, it has been performed live many times and a taste of it can be heard in the trailer for the film:
His list of awards and nominations continues to expand; he's scoring the upcoming Bladerunner 2049 remake as well. I'd seen him in person several times, both in Reykjavík and Minneapolis. Orphée, his latest opus, is based on the legend of Orpheus and is his first non-soundtrack album in six years, a "soundtrack without a movie" as it were:
The Cedar Cultural Center may be the best intimate venue in Minnesota, the performers usually play to the "short wall", so sight lines and closeness to the stage are very good. The minimal staging was effective, especially after the fog machine and the video projection began:
Jóhann came out and played piano with a string quintet and a reel to reel tape recorder that he used throughout the concert, even changing reels from time to time:
Jóhann sequenced his compositions in movements, seamlessly segueing between the sections (and tape changes); this was the best I've seen him in a classical setting. They played for a solid 100 minutes with no intermission.
For the last number, they played the song that started my infatuation with Jóhann:
Monday, October 17, 2016
Mondays in Iceland - #81
This cinematic offering from Icelandic director Grímur Hákonarson concerns itself with the struggles of two brothers who raise sheep in Iceland. It is a extremely well-crafted, if slow paced, film set in the present but has saga-like overtones. It gives a unflinching look at life in rural Iceland and their timeless struggle of trying to make a living on this inhospitable rock in the North Atlantic. It is almost unrelenting in its grimness, except for the love the brothers have for their sheep. Their flocks have become like an extended family to these alienated bachelors, making the film even more tragic. Hákonarson is a fine director who can work in a variety of genres. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more from him in the future. The DVD I got from my local library (!) also has the Hákonarson short film Bræðrabylta (Wrestling) which I found to be exceptional. The actors, as is usually the case in Icelandic cinema, are superb.
It is hard to make a general recommendation for a movie whose plot revolves around diseased sheep; I found it to be worthwhile but a bit of a slog at times.