Tag: music

Words…

Published on by Grace13 Comments

Whenever I see, hear, say the word “words” immediately my brain starts playing that song by the BeeGees, and I don’t even like the BeeGees…Anyway moving on…

Homophones seem to be the most oft committed grammar error. I’ve been writing about this for years, wondering why people have problems with this. I never found an answer. Homophone errors are the ONE error that jumps out to me – I can be fuzzy on other grammatical matters but not this one.

In this morning print edition of The Washington Post there were two side-by-side articles in the Business Section regarding Eli Lilly dropping the price on insulin – from one article we have –

‘Vile’ instead of vial. Yet in the on-line version of the same article that error has been corrected. Raising two questions in my mind – why the homophone error and which came first – print edition or on-line edition. As a third question – who caught the error/who made the error.

Also – in an article reprinted from the Baltimore Sun, and not in the on-line edition of the Post, there is this awkward sentence “…which he has briefly remarked upon only briefly since…” What? Does that make you twitch as much as it does me?

Lest you say “Grace – get a life!” I must tell you my inner editor has been alive and well for as long as I can remember. For instance – back in the early 1990’s I read the book “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe” – twice – all 416 pages. The second time was to make notes of all the errors, which I then typed up and sent to the publisher. That was fairly recent I admit.

I can’t at the moment remember a specific incident from my childhood but I can tell you one funny story from my early 20’s when I worked at the Encyclopedia Americana.

For some reason I can’t recall I had the page proofs for a section that included an article on the novel “Don Quixote”.  Also you should know that page proofs are pulled from the permanent print plates. Reading the article I noted an error – “flying pan” instead of “frying pan”. I laughed and brought it to the attention of the production manager. He was not happy. The editor was not happy. The copy editors were not happy. It could not stand, had to be corrected, therefore the whole plate had to be re-done – an expensive proposition. I was jokingly (?) told to never read page proofs again.

And yet – so many errors in what I write – words left out – tho I will swear that’s my computer messing with me. And my almost nonexistent typing skills. But that’s another story.

Here’s My New Anthem

Published on by Grace8 Comments

Never Gonna Not Dance Again written and performed by Pink

If someone told me that the world would end tonight
You could take all that I got, for once I wouldn’t start a fight (Yeah, right)
You could have my liquor, take my dinner, take my fun
My birthday cake, my soul, my dog, take everything I love

But, oh, one thing I’m never gonna do
Is throw away my dancing shoes
And, oh, Lord, don’t try me, really, not tonight
I’ll lay down and die, I’ll scream and I’ll cry
We’ve already wasted enough time

[Chorus]
I’m never gonna not dance again
I’m never gonna not dance again
Oh, I just wanna pop and lock to my records
There go all of my clothes
Never gonna not dance again
D-d-d-dance, I’m gonna dance, bruh
D-d-d-dance, I’m gonna dance

I want my life to be a Whitney Houston song (I wanna dance)
I got all good luck and zero fucks, don’t care if I belong, no
If I could kill the thing that makes us all so dumb
We’re never getting younger, so I’m gonna have some fun

‘Cause, oh, one thing I’m never gonna do
Is throw away my dancing shoes
And, oh, Lord, don’t try me, really, not tonight
I’ll lay down and die (I’ll lay down and die)
I’ll scream and I’ll cry (I’ll scream and I’ll cry)
Know that I’m starting a fight

[Chorus]
I’m never gonna not dance again
I’m never gonna not dance again
Oh, I just wanna pop and lock to my records
There go all of my clothes
Never gonna not dance again
D-d-d-dance, I’m gonna dance, bruh
D-d-d-dance, I’m gonna dance
D-d-d-dance, I’m gonna dance, yeah, d-d-d-dance

I’ll lay down and die, I’ll scream and I’ll cry
You know that I’m starting a fight (Fight)
I’ll lay down and die, I’ll scream and I’ll cry
We’ve already wasted enough time
We’ve already wasted enough time

[Chorus]
I’m never gonna not dance again
I’m never gonna not dance again
Oh, I just wanna pop and lock to my records
There go all of my clothes
Never gonna not dance again (Hey, hey)

Never gonna not dance again (Never gonna not dance again)
Dance again (Let the music play ’til the end)
Dance again (Never gonna not dance again)
Dance again
Let the music play ’til the end (Hey)
I’m never gonna not dance again
Dance again (Let the music play ’til the end)
Let it play, yeah
Dance again (Never gonna not dance again)
Dance again (Let the music play ’til the end)
Come on, come on
(I’m never gonna not gonna dance again)
(So let the music play ’til the end)
Yeah, yeah
I’m never gonna not gonna dance again
So let the music play ’til the end
(Why’d it stop?)

 

Overwhelmed with gratitude and thankfulness (and a little glee)

Published on by Grace10 Comments

for having been born and brought up in New York City and having the father that I had.  New York City is the entire universe in 300.46 square miles. Thanks to my father I got to experience just about every square foot of it.

How do I keep this short and sweet? It all started this morning, with me being grumpy about some inconsequential shit on the internet that pissed me off and that I couldn’t let go of – ignorant yahoos.

But then I received a New York Times ‘newsletter’ in my email that featured a story about Marvin Gaye singing the national anthem. When I shared it with my husband his reaction was “meh” whereas I was blown away. This led to a discussion about music and the realization that because of where I grew up and with whom I grew up my views and tastes were more far ranging than my husband’s.

And that is due to my father.

I know of people who have lived for several generations in New York City and know jack-all about what’s there. So sad.

As soon as we were toilet trained and had acquired manners my father took us to every single museum in NYC.  Not just the art museums but the numismatic museum down on Wall Street, all sorts of museums covering every topic imaginable.  He took us to white-tablecloth restaurants; to the theater.

And yes to the zoo, the botanical gardens, the planetarium, the circus,the rodeo, the horse races, Yankee Stadium, Madison Square Garden – no type of sport was left out – we were introduced to it, if only as spectators.

At home we were surrounded by music of every form and format. And books – my father came from a family of readers – anything with print on it was perused.

Music? Oh my word – there was ALWAYS music. And NYC, being NYC, you could twirl your way around the radio dial and there was no music unrepresented. There was no culture unrepresented. There were radio stations that broadcast in languages other than English.

So much popular music originated in NYC – doo-wop, rap, beatbox, hip-hop – we heard it all first. Nothing was banned, nothing was off-limits. You only had to be curious enough to stop and listen.

Food? Oh hell do not tell me anything about food, just don’t. From the mundanity of mashed potatoes to haute cuisine – I ate it. And not the Americanized versions. The real deal.

It wasn’t just that you lived in a city with people of other cultures, you experienced their culture, and they yours because you were in and out of their homes. They were your friends and when we were young we took our differences for granted.

My parent’s friends – all my “Aunts” and “Uncles” – a veritable United Nations.

That’s how I grew up. As an adult my native curiosity took me farther and wider. I’m thinking I got my curiosity from my father –  it’s something people have commented on my whole life – my shrink said “You are the most curious person I have ever met”

How do you not wonder about the world that surrounds you especially when the world you live in is so diverse and strange and magical.

So, yes, right now feeling happy and bouncy and lucky and grateful that I had the father I had, growing up in the city I did and being blessed with a sense of curiosity that leads me down rabbit holes even Alice never dreamed of.

Am I blue…

Published on by Grace8 Comments

My husband switched out his dark green house hoodie for a navy blue one and I noticed that he looks very good in navy blue. Last year when I bought him new Winter and Summer t-shirts (LL Bean – marvelous quality) I bought him navy blue. He prefers light grey – too bad.

Then I thought – “Why do most men, when asked their favorite color say ‘blue?” Maybe that old blue for boys, pink for girls thing has an innate aspect to it.

Tho I, being a girl, HATE pink. Always have. I think it is a weak wussy color.  From the time I could distinguish color and voice an opinion red was my color. Did I ever tell you the story about my throwing a tantrum over a red snowsuit? I do not remember this, but the story as told to me goes like this –

I must have been two or three and my mother and father and I were in a store buying me a snowsuit.  A snowsuit of some color or other was put on me and I threw an epic temper tantrum. I guess I had indicated I wanted a red one but I was ignored.  The saleslady said “I wouldn’t let my kid get away with that” My father said “Well she’s not your kid, get that off of her and give her the red one”  Go Dad!

When I was 50-ish I developed an antipathy towards the color red and proceeded to purge it from my wardrobe and home decor, which was quite an undertaking I assure you. Nowadays I absolutely cannot abide the color red and won’t have it around me.

I think this post was just an excuse to share this song which has been playing in my head for the past several days –

But if there must be pink then let it be this Pink (watch the performance to the end, I saw this live on tv and it has stuck in my memory…brilliant)

And that’s what happens

Published on by Grace9 Comments

We do not watch any American tv shows . We subscribe to Acorn and BritBox and then there is always PBS…Occasionally you can pick up some on Netflix or Hulu.

As an aside, I discovered that I had Apple+ tv, free for a year, from T-Mobile, my cell phone provider. So far nothing there to watch, glad I’m not paying for it. We tried an episode and a half of “Ted Lasso” because we both had read how it was supposed to be all that and a bag of chips and our reaction? Why, God, Why?

Back to my first thought –

After years (and years) of British, Australian and Canadian tv we’ve naturally acquired a lot of ‘foreign’ language quirks. As in –

I was reading a blog the other day, and I was going to comment with my first reaction – “Now you are just taking the piss…” That’s British slang. My second thought was – “Nope, don’t write that they might not know what it means” I was being funny and the guy might think I was being rude; don’t wanna be rude. I said nothing but the phrase is still rolling around my brain.

Don’t get me wrong about non-American tv – every country has its share of crap but for the last few years the Brits, Aussies and Canadians just have been keeping us entertained and American tv has not.

We’ve even become fans of a French-language tv show.  I didn’t think my husband would like it because – subtitles. But he surprised me and really got into it. Plus my French improved tremendously. Well, understanding it anyway. I wouldn’t dare open my mouth and actually try to speak French. (Can you hear me? French spoken with a New Yawk accent? The mind boggles.)

And now for something completely different…

I didn’t sleep well or much last night. I’m not much of a napper but after lunch I zonked out for about an half hour. I was awakened by this song playing in my head –

Isn't that interesting

Published on by Grace8 Comments

We have 6 streaming channels  and nothing to watch. Oddly, my husband and I, being 75 years old ,have little to no interest in shows/movies about teenagers. Imagine that!  I avoid anything violent while my husband seemed to enjoy “The Vikings” – I didn’t watch it. 

Summer is slow in the mindless entertainment business, but by the middle of September Brit Box and Acorn will have restocked themselves. Until then – 

We’ve started watching The History of Country Music, a Ken Burns productions, on PBS. I didn’t get to watch the first 3 episodes because they covered the years 1933-1953. My husband wasn’t interested in those episodes. We started with Episode 4: 1953-1963.

What I found interesting was I remember all those songs and artists – experienced in real time. Where the heck was I listening to this music? I don’t recall country music (or country-western music as it was often referred to in those day) being big in NYC. Yet – I remember listening to this music when I was a kid back in the 1950’s. I do recall that late in the evening we could pick up radio stations from the South and the Mid-West – maybe we were listening to this music that way? 

I suppose I could do some rabbit hole diving and research radio stations in NYC in the 50’s but I’m not all that interested in where I first heard country music. At any rate tonight we are up to Episode 7: 1973-1983.

I like pierogies. A ravioli is a pierogi is a Chinese dumpling – it’s all good. Take some dough stuff it with something edible, boil it, saute it, cover in sauce – all good. 
I bought Mrs. T’s pierogies the other week. I hadn’t had them in decades! The box says it contains 12 pierogies but – and here’s the interesting part – there are 13 pierogies in every box.  At least there were 13 in the two boxes I bought. I’m going to buy them again just to see if I get more than is advertised. I think it’s kinda interesting. 

I haven’t spent much time online or even on my computer lately – too busy reading. I’m just whipping through books. Whipping is actually a great adjective because someone should be whipped for publishing this crap.  Luckily I’ve got some good books on my iPad and on my shelf and I shall soon be back to a happy book world.

Books that should whipped out of existence – okay, that’s extreme – how about the books I didn’t finish because I thought they were crap? How’s that? And the list is:
The Paris Apartment by Lucy Foley
The Book of Cold Cases by Simone St. James
Book Lovers by Emily Henry
Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood
An Island Wedding by Jenny Colgan

Understand these books came highly touted and well reviewed. I think much like current tv and movie entertainment, I am outside the norm for what’s considered good, or entertaining. 

Sigh.