![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Apology to Arthropods
Sep. 30th, 2012 03:53 amIt's gotten cold enough that all the spiders are coming inside. There's an old superstition that killing a spider is bad luck, but it can't be avoided in this house; it's a risk one has to take to insure one's more immediate safety. I suppose this is the origin of Halloween spiderweb decorations; so many perplexing national traditions seem to stem from a long-ago attempt to pretend everywhere is New England, which I didn't realize until I came to New England.
Ciro and I saw Porgy and Bess at the Boston Symphony Orchestra tonight. I continue to be impressed by the acoustic qualities of Symphony Hall; I don't think I've ever been better able to hear music, even from instruments I myself was playing. The sound clarity is extraordinary. It perfectly illustrates the principle that the best acoustical space is a rectangular box made of old wood. One can also see why hall-builders generally ignore this principle, as the hard, wooden, ruthlessly perpendicular chairs are not the height of comfort.
A woman stopped me in the lobby to note that she and I were the only two people with the chutzpah to wear hats, and I found she was right. If Porgy and Bess isn't a hat-wearing occasion, I don't know what is. Hers was small and black, with feathers. Mine was small and champagne, with netting.
Since I liked A Pale View of Hills very much, I have picked up a copy of Remains of the Day. I am only a few pages in, but have been stopped by several people who have only seen the movie, who wonder why I would choose to read something so sad. Having not seen the movie and being only just past the prologue, I can say that so far the book is very funny. I like this Ishiguro kid; he's got some talent as a writer. He's going places.
I suppose this means I have to further postpone seeing Never Let Me Go so I can track down the book first. I don't typically mind seeing the movie before reading the book, but in this case, I think I might.
I have looked up spider killing and bad luck, and it seems the rhyme is "Kill a spider, bad luck yours will be. Until of flies you've swatted fifty-three." Which scans terribly. This is why non-professionals should not strive to rhyme; it leads to this kind of tortured phrasing. However, I have swatted countless flies this year, so it seems I may wind up in the "win" column, so far as luck is concerned. Perhaps this is the year of my big break.
Ciro and I saw Porgy and Bess at the Boston Symphony Orchestra tonight. I continue to be impressed by the acoustic qualities of Symphony Hall; I don't think I've ever been better able to hear music, even from instruments I myself was playing. The sound clarity is extraordinary. It perfectly illustrates the principle that the best acoustical space is a rectangular box made of old wood. One can also see why hall-builders generally ignore this principle, as the hard, wooden, ruthlessly perpendicular chairs are not the height of comfort.
A woman stopped me in the lobby to note that she and I were the only two people with the chutzpah to wear hats, and I found she was right. If Porgy and Bess isn't a hat-wearing occasion, I don't know what is. Hers was small and black, with feathers. Mine was small and champagne, with netting.
Since I liked A Pale View of Hills very much, I have picked up a copy of Remains of the Day. I am only a few pages in, but have been stopped by several people who have only seen the movie, who wonder why I would choose to read something so sad. Having not seen the movie and being only just past the prologue, I can say that so far the book is very funny. I like this Ishiguro kid; he's got some talent as a writer. He's going places.
I suppose this means I have to further postpone seeing Never Let Me Go so I can track down the book first. I don't typically mind seeing the movie before reading the book, but in this case, I think I might.
I have looked up spider killing and bad luck, and it seems the rhyme is "Kill a spider, bad luck yours will be. Until of flies you've swatted fifty-three." Which scans terribly. This is why non-professionals should not strive to rhyme; it leads to this kind of tortured phrasing. However, I have swatted countless flies this year, so it seems I may wind up in the "win" column, so far as luck is concerned. Perhaps this is the year of my big break.
