Rilkekind's dancer

A dancer in time

More music news

The other day I had a hankering to listen to Schubert's beautiful D940 Fantasia in F Minor for piano four hands, so I dug it up from the bottom of the bottom box of classical music awaiting a set of shelves somewhere in our house. The cd also had the much less interesting Marches Militaires - during one Rilkekind looked up from his toys and said, "This is march music". Or something not unbelievably precocious which sounds similar, though I can't figure out what.

Music news

The other day Rilkekind said, "Daddy, sing 'Oh My Darling' with bananas".

I was listening to Hindemith's _Mathis Der Maler_ recently and he remarked, "Big dustbuster [i.e., vacuum cleaner] music". I'll have to try him on the solo viola music, which I love.

The first movement (segment?) of _Mathis Der Maler_ ends as excitingly as any work I can think of. But the balance of the whole work is thereby thrown off for me. For that matter I've always wondered about e.g. Brahms putting the weightiest movement of say the 4th symphony first - it sometimes seems backwards.

There's a note in the first movement of the Brahms Violin Concerto that seems wrong to me - it's rhythmically awkward. I wonder if a century of violinists and conductors have triple-checked the score there. But surely there's a good reason for everything in the piece. Sadly googling "wrong note in Brahms violin concerto" doesn't yield much of obvious use.

Listening to Messiaen's Turangalîla Symphony recently I was reminded by what turns out to be the "statue theme" of the phrase in measure 16 of Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor for organ. A quick google doesn't reveal a link - guess I should sit down at a piano and figure out all those accidentals.

Frank Black's reading of the line "God willing I won’t put you in the ground" from "California Bound" off _Black Letter Days_ is great - he has an awful but expressive voice and he undersings the threat or prayer perfectly. Compare to Paul Hillier's reading of "That the wolf ate" from "Song for a Sea Tower" off bitter ballads - he uncharacteristically overemphasizes the line by putting a sort of chuckle into his wonderful voice. The two albums, which make an interesting pair, have taught me a lot about what one can do singing songs in a mode closer to speech than what one might call the usual Liederstimme.

Not learning about cryo stuff

I need a small non-feedthrough linear actuator (with say a 1 cm stroke) or rotary stepper motor or just a stupid shutter that operates in a moderate vacuum at cryo temperature. Google is not helping. Guess I have to resort to the old remedy of finding an actual engineer.

(Being sick and having been woken up by rilkekind at 5 AM because, so he claimed, he needed a fingernail clipped might be as much to blame as google.)

I'm cute too

Rilkekind

says, Daddy, I'm cute too!


As usual, click image for larger view.

A room lit from two sides

Somewhere I read that people prefer to be in rooms lit from two sides. Recently Rilkekind got his long-awaited surgery to fix his insides, and everything went as well as could be hoped. Still, he wasn't very happy for several days. We were in a two-crib hospital room and were separated from the window by the curtain giving the other family privacy. Rilkekind spent a lot of time pointing out the door toward a glass door opening on an outdoor patio. Then on the second day there the other family went home, the curtain was drawn back, and the room was lit by the window and the door - and Rilkekind started looking happy.

I'm not grumpy (for dutchmarbel)

(as usual click for larger image)

Also

Rilkekind at one

As usual, click for a larger version.

Despair at Longs Drugs

There's a poster in the window at Longs Drugs showing a street sign with three indicators - Live Happy, Live Healthy, Live Longs - each pointing in a different direction.



Rilkekind was diagnosed by a new doctor (who actually talked to us) and his problem seems more likely to require surgery but less likely to be of concern to him later in life. Also, we feel much better informed and in control of the situation. He seems to be on the verge of crawling so that sense of control may not last.

And the pediatrician says he ought to put on a bit of weight - as she described all the foods we should try, and in particular suggested putting butter on some, I thought of Hansel.

Is nobody going to pick me up ever again?

World's cutest felon

As usual, click to enlarge; the claimed cuteness may be difficult to perceive due to my continued struggle with baby photography.

A new verse, free

I learned a song somewhere or other - it's Rilkekind's favorite:

Up in the forest in a nest in a tree
Lived an old mother robin and her little chicks three.
"Chirp!" said the mother; "we chirp!" said the three;
And they chirped and were glad in their nest in the tree.

Out in the city in a cage in a zoo
Lived an old mother lion and her little cubs two.
"Roar!" said the mother; "we roar!" said the two;
And they roared and were glad in their cage in the zoo.

Down by the river on a bank in the sun
Lived an old mother toad and her little toad one.
"Croak!" said the mother; "I croak!" said the one;
And they croaked and were glad on their bank in the sun.

Well, the above is how I sing it, anyway. Rilkekind especially likes it when I roll the "r"s and do the first "chirp" etc. in a chest voice and the second in a head voice. No doubt I'll find a link to the melody one of these days.

Here's another verse I've started adding:

Out in the vacuum far away from the sun
Lived an old mother nothing and her little not none.
"Don't!" said the mother; "I won't!" said the none;
And they didn't and were glad far away from the sun.

Along with the hair issue

Rilkekind has an issue with his insides. Nothing too terrible, but he has to drink some yucky medicine and may need surgery in a year or two. To quote Bacon: He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune.

(As usual, click image to expand.)

Magical thinking, pewter

The other day I was doing the jumble puzzle in the paper because it was there, and unscrambled one entry into "pewter". I laughed, because Nancy Willard uses it either obsessively or perhaps out of an odd strategy to link poems by random words. Then a few days later Mrs. R's mother remarked about the door handles and other fixtures in the house we moved into a month ago that they had a pewter finish.

Rilkekind spends some time in a bouncer seat which reacts when he moves - fishes bubble and swim, melodies or sounds play. Lately though he seems to find the spectacle rather tiresome. He has not yet tired of the mobile on his crib. It plays Brahms's (slightly terrifying) "Lullaby" and rotates a small zoo of animals - but only for a short while, since it's wind-up. Rilkekind I think makes the same movements he uses in the bouncer seat when he's enjoying the mobile.


We make connections - sometimes that leads to strange results, sometimes not.

And the fish was this long

Click image for a longer fish.

Virus

Rilkekind is fine now, but last week he got an infection and spent several days in the hospital. The various tests and procedures were upsetting to the three of us, and I spent a fair amount of time during them trying to calm him with all the songs I usually sing him. I read some of Park's _A Princess of Roumania_ while sitting by his elaborate hospital crib and was reminded by the text of the "Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird" song. Having gotten tired of everything else, and rather concerned he was going to associate "La belle est au jardin d'amour" with being poked with needles, I started singing him a version of the mockingbird song. Now I find myself walking around compulsively generating new verses, which I promptly forget.

Hush little baby, don't say a word
Daddy's going to buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird don't sing
Daddy's going to buy you an elven ring
And if that elven ring don't shine
Daddy's going to buy you a popcorn mine
And if that popcorn mine don't yield
Daddy's going to buy you a poppy field
And if that poppy field don't bloom
Daddy's going to buy you a Chinese room
And if that Chinese room don't talk
Daddy's going to buy you a cliff of chalk
And if that cliff of chalk don't write
Daddy's going to buy you some dynamite
And if that dynamite should smoulder
Daddy's going to buy you the town of Boulder
And if that town should raise its fees
Daddy's going to buy you the seven seas
And if those seven seas don't part
Daddy's going to buy you a tell-tale heart
And if tell-tale heart don't beat
Daddy's going to buy you a fishing fleet
And if that fishing fleet don't catch lobster
Daddy's going to buy you a job as a mobster
And if the mafia don goes to jail
Daddy's going to buy you a plastic pail
And if that pail is full of sand
Daddy's going to buy you a marching band
And if that marching band's too loud
Daddy's going to buy you a fluffy cloud
And if that cloud should get hurricaney
Daddy's going to buy you the soul of Cheney
And if that soul does not exist
Daddy's going to buy you a hawk for your wrist
And if that hawk should fly away
Daddy's going to buy you a sunny day
And if that sunny day gets cloudy
Daddy's going to buy you a church by Gaudi
And if that church is too moderne
Daddy's going to buy you a ring at Cern
And if that ring don't 'celerate
Daddy's going to buy you a pearly gate
And if that gate should be too squeaky
Daddy's going to buy you the bones of Leakey
And if you find that too absurd
Daddy's going to buy you a mockingbird

En garde, monde!

Let's see if the bear is carnivorous

(click as usual to expand)

Stylin'

Rilkekind developed a (frightening but entirely transitory) case of jaundice, requiring a long tan (and a long separation - oops, duty yells: