Thursday, January 14, 2016

You’re thought of all year Much more than you know

You’re thought of all year
Much more than you know,
And now it is the best day
For telling you so!

Happy Birthday Dhyal ...

John Hatton and his jazz loving Kim encouraged these set of local librarians to dig deep into bohemian rhapsody

PS: Almost 80,000 homes and business in Sydney were left without power as a result of storm damage, the ABC reports.
chipmunk links
Speaking of birthdays, brilliant blogger and jazz lover, Terry TeachOut, will be celebrating his birthday next month and probably with Pavol aka Paul Moravec. Terry and like MEdia Dragons he has ways of  lingering among ghosts  TT pigeons on the grass:

"I’m not going anywhere with this: I’m just rambling. It’s the privilege of a blogger with a long memory who turns fifty next Monday. Believe it or not, I don’t live in the past. No working journalist does, especially one with so many young friends. Even so, I do enjoy rummaging around in my well-stocked memory, and I don’t mind admitting that there are times when I prefer communing with the increasingly distant past to grappling with the uncomfortably proximate present. Ben Gazzara, Clifford Odets, Aaron Copland, Robert Warshow, even Jerry Lewis: today they all seem far more real to me than the pretty people I’d be reading about in Entertainment Weekly if I read Entertainment Weekly. No doubt this has something to do with my recent brush with mortality. To borrow a line from Patrick O’Brian, I’ve been a bar or two behind ever since I got out of the hospital, and though I’m sure I’ll catch up sooner or later, I find it oddly pleasant to linger among ghosts.
I reread Brideshead Revisited last week, and found that Evelyn Waugh had once again summed up my mood better than I could myself:
'My theme is memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of war-time.
These memories, which are my life–for we possess nothing certainly except the past–were always with me. Like the pigeons of St Mark’s (not those of Darling Point fame), they were everywhere, under my feet, single, in pairs, in little honey-voiced congregations, nodding, strutting, winking, rolling the tender feathers of their necks, perching sometimes, if I stood still, on my shoulder; until, suddenly, the noon gun boomed and in a moment, with a flutter and sweep of wings, the pavement was bare and the whole sky above dark with a tumult of fowl.'

I, too, am surrounded by pigeons this morning, and I’ll be sorry when the noon gun booms."

Winnipeg’s McNally Robinson Booksellers became Canada’s largest independent bookstore by offering a fun, stimulating place for booklovers Winnipeg Free Press

Other Brilliant bloggers who linger with Ghosts of Cold River are ....