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Dec. 16th, 2004 04:55 pm
Another not quite really random post
Thinking I'd like to post but without a clear idea of a topic, I decided to try plugging numbers from the Big Book of Random Numbers into WebDewy and seeing where it took me. They are conveniently broken into five-by-five digit blocks, so I grabbed the first one and here's what I got. (To the extent that I can tell with my limited knowledge of the system, not all represent valid Dewey numbers. "Superfluous" digits are left unbolded.)
Last night's unmitigated pleasure was Leoš Janáček's Příhody lišky Bystroušky (lit. "Tales of the vixen Sharp-Ears"; English title The cunning little vixen) at the Lyric Opera. Really so flawless, I'm reduced to minor cavils: The Vixen's husband (a trouser part and a substitution) was sung beautifully, but by a soprano with a higher voice than the Vixen herself. Some of the delightly and inventive choreography for the animals was a little out of the character (why are bunnies climbing a ladder?). The otherwise hunky Forester had skinny legs. But the music was gorgreous, interesting, and not the least bit sentimental. Incredibly, nothing in the opera is. The Vixen is shot and dies; it's a bitch, but that's life. Neither she nor her spouse has a tearful final aria, their kits are not reduced to piteous weeping, the music does not swell lugubriously. It does turn sombre, but soon enough we're into the next scene. Life moves on.
There was a woman on the el who could stand to learn that lesson. All the way from Washington to freakin' Belmont, her friend kept up a constant flow of reassuring, flattering, sympathetic patter as she sat and moped. I gathered that she'd just broken up with someone. Tough break kid; I been there and it sucks. But, c'mon, are you 14? No, you're nearly twenty. Is this the first time ever than an evil man has broken your heart? I wanted to be sympathetic, but the excessive hand-holding really disgusted me. Her friend kept listing all the wonderful people who thought she was all special and would be there for her no matter what, but who's going to be there for you if you won't be there for yourself?
- 100.97 Philosophy (General works)
- 375.42 Curricula, study of the English language
- 084.22 General collections of quotations in French, Catalan, Occitan.
- 990.19 History of other parts of world, of extraterrestrial worlds. Pacific Ocean islands.
- 128.07 Philosophical anthropology, philosophy of human life, etc., education, research, etc.
Last night's unmitigated pleasure was Leoš Janáček's Příhody lišky Bystroušky (lit. "Tales of the vixen Sharp-Ears"; English title The cunning little vixen) at the Lyric Opera. Really so flawless, I'm reduced to minor cavils: The Vixen's husband (a trouser part and a substitution) was sung beautifully, but by a soprano with a higher voice than the Vixen herself. Some of the delightly and inventive choreography for the animals was a little out of the character (why are bunnies climbing a ladder?). The otherwise hunky Forester had skinny legs. But the music was gorgreous, interesting, and not the least bit sentimental. Incredibly, nothing in the opera is. The Vixen is shot and dies; it's a bitch, but that's life. Neither she nor her spouse has a tearful final aria, their kits are not reduced to piteous weeping, the music does not swell lugubriously. It does turn sombre, but soon enough we're into the next scene. Life moves on.
There was a woman on the el who could stand to learn that lesson. All the way from Washington to freakin' Belmont, her friend kept up a constant flow of reassuring, flattering, sympathetic patter as she sat and moped. I gathered that she'd just broken up with someone. Tough break kid; I been there and it sucks. But, c'mon, are you 14? No, you're nearly twenty. Is this the first time ever than an evil man has broken your heart? I wanted to be sympathetic, but the excessive hand-holding really disgusted me. Her friend kept listing all the wonderful people who thought she was all special and would be there for her no matter what, but who's going to be there for you if you won't be there for yourself?