Morning Music with Julie - John Tavener, Funeral Canticle

Osda sunalei. It's 9:29 AM and this is Morning Music.

I'm not sure how long it's been since I've featured this, but going through what remains of my memory I can't see it being recent, and YouTube recommended it today, so I'll go with the automagic algorithm and use this.

Sir John Kenneth Tavener (28 January 1944 – 12 November 2013) was a British composer, known for his extensive output of religious works, including The Protecting Veil, Song for Athene and The Lamb.

Tavener first came to prominence with his cantata The Whale, premiered in 1968. Then aged 24, he was described by The Guardian as "the musical discovery of the year", while The Times said he was "among the very best creative talents of his generation." During his career he became one of the best known and popular composers of his generation, most particularly for The Protecting Veil, which as recorded by cellist Steven Isserlis became a bestselling album, and Song for Athene which was sung at the funeral of Princess Diana. The Lamb featured in the soundtrack for Paolo Sorrentino's film The Great Beauty. Tavener was knighted in 2000 for his services to music and won an Ivor Novello Award.

Tavener converted to the Russian Orthodox Church in 1977. Orthodox theology and liturgical traditions became a major influence on his work.

He suffered from considerable health problems throughout his life. He had a stroke in his thirties, heart surgery and the removal of a tumour in his forties, and suffered two successive heart attacks which left him very frail.

John Rutter describes Tavener as having the "very rare gift" of being able to "bring an audience to a deep silence." According to Steven Isserlis, "he had his own voice. He wasn't writing to be popular – he was writing the music he had to write."

The Academy of Ancient Music, George Mosley, Paul Goodwin, Andrew Manze and The Choir of the AAM are our performers.

Afterimage

You never talk to me anymore.

We used to be close to each other.  We shared a lot of the same friends, we did things together online, like movie and tv show watchalongs.  I shared a lot of myself to you long before I had the courage to come out to the rest of the world.

And then, you were gone.

I remember 
How we talked and drank into the misty dawn
I hear the voices

I could see you, of course...out on the periphery, doing your thing.  I don't know what happened.  Was it something I said, or did, or did we just...grow in separate directions?  I thought certain things might bridge some of that distance...and it did, for a few days, before you gradually shifted away again, to that orbit far enough away that your presence became little more than faint ripples on an otherwise still pond.

And I don't know why.  I tried reaching out, repeatedly, but...

One of my faults is that I want to know why about everything.  I want to try and understand everything, and even though I know it is not realistic to think I could possibly know everything, there is a part of me that longs to.  And I want to know why.  I don't know if or that it would change anything...and it is not the kind of question one casually tosses as an opener to communication with someone who barely seems to acknowledge your presence, or their presence in your life.

As I write this it's 10:43 PM on 2 November 2015.  I've been listening to Time by Hans Zimmer for an hour and 8 minutes straight.  It's become a kind of mantra or koan that I am resonating to.  I've been considering the things in my life that hurt...

the loss of my BFF
a friend who is inpatiented right now because they reached a point where it was necessary
a friend who is having problems with their soon to be ex
a friend who is dealing with long term effects from a catastrophic injury
the keeper of my heart, going through their own hardships and me unable to aid at this point properly

I'm overwhelmed...and that's not even getting into the baseline things like my depression, PTSD, anxiety, dysphoria.  Nor is it adding in the things that I fight against, like transmisogyny, transphobia, racism against blacks/First People/Asians of any ancestry/Latino/Latina, the stupidity of men's rights activists, white genocide believers, TERFs, and so on.

And in the midst of this maelstrom, I wonder about a friend.

And why you don't talk to me anymore.

Evening Music with Julie - Hans Zimmer, Time

Osda svhiyeyi, sidanelvhi. It's 9:31 pm, and this is Evening Music with Julie.

I'm picking something very different for tonight's closing piece, for which I hope you'll forgive me. But I have a thing for film scores (many are the closest to modern symphonic we'll get anymore), and this particular piece is just...it holds a special place for me, with memories both good and sad inducing. So there's a melancholy there, and that melancholy suits the piece, I think.

We're allowed to have melancholy feelings, I think. It's part of the grand assemblage of emotion that makes those of us who are aware, who feel, who sense the music in every day life...I think it's part of that grand assemblage that makes us most human. That makes us the most alive. We understand...and in the saying and the telling, we allow our understanding to spread to others, in the hopes that they can feel what we feel, know what we know, understand as we do.

Enough from me.

This is Time, by Hans Zimmer, from the film Inception.

Dodadagohvi, osda svnoi.

Ayv gvgeyui nihi, sidanelvhi ♥

Ayv gvgeyui nihi, adageyudi ♥ ♥ ♥

Rainy Days and Mondays...a Threnody (Op. 9)

Mondays are, by far, the worst say of the week.  I'm certain it's been scientifically proven, and if it hasn't yet, funding needs to be allocated for it to prove it so my opening sentence has the ring of truth to it, not just subjective opinion.

Mondays are even worse when they fall the day after the clock changes, because I'm already off kilter from th time change and now I don't even know what time it is and I have to wake up for work and why does it feel like a time it isn't please help me.

Add in the fact that Julie had to voluntarily drive to see a bunch of vampires to get drained (OK, it was only one vial) and decided to get it done today so she could possibly sleep in tomorrow, and I'm waking up at 'For the love of all that is holy, what time did you set your alarm for?' o'clock, which would shock some by the fact that I did it and others because that's not early at all.

You see, Julie has a 3 word vocabulary when she wakes up in the morning...

Ugh.

Mmm.

Meh.

I can't do coffee because of the caffeine.  I shouldn't do hot tea for the same reason, but you'll get my cup of Darjeeling when you pry it from my cold dead hands.

And work was a misery.  Up till the end, when I got a few computers in, and that helped a little.  But otherwise it was slow, and my boss was a jerk like he always is.  My mum is finally getting into it, though, so where it used to be just a few of my friends who'd say 'So when are you wearing a dress to work?  When are you wearing a skirt to work?' today my mum said 'You're going to give your boss a heart attack when you show up in one of your wigs.'

Maybe he needs a good heart attack, I don't know.  I mean, I already wear makeup to work (and I need to get back to that now that I'm feeling more up), so...

To top it off, the multicoloured light bulb in my floor lamp blew.  This makes Julie a really sad camper.  And the badge I mailed to a friend because her daughter really deserved it never made it there...but the envelope and letter did.  And that makes Julie a very upset Julie, and I hope I never find out who did it, because I have a spork waiting for them.

So that's Monday.

~~~~~

I'm looking through past essays and reviews I can post here, and trying to wonder about things I can do that might be interesting on the geeky side of the arena...like X-Files marathons, roundtable reviews with some of my friends about episodes or movies or whatever, talking about authors I dig, etc.  I know I write a lot about me and my transness and my journey, and that will always be a major part of what I write about here.  But I don't want to ignore the other things that make me me, and this is a perfect outlet for all of that.  I'll play around with things, and ideas, and other things, and see what sticks.  I'm still furnishing and getting the feng shui right, so be patient with me, ok?

~~~~~

I'll check my sidebar later...I think it's been a bit since I posted a story, and I've got a few new poems in the can that deserve the light of day.  So there's that tonight.

Also, a workout.  Because I have to get back to that.

And maybe early bed.  We'll see.

Haircut tomorrow, as I've finally given in and decided to not attempt the assault on the Russian front, and I am pulling my troops back to France.

And in the interim, care for everybody in the known universe, try to find time to write my own fiction, read more of a friend's novel in progress, et cetera et cetera.

Speaking of artifice...

...let's talk about architecture.

That sounds like an odd opening line.

Let me give you some context.

I am, as header image so nicely tells us, a transgirl on the go.  Hoopla!

What.  Does.  This.  Mean?

It means, because of my age, I probably should be saying transwoman.  But damnit, there's nothing diminishing about calling myself a girl, even if I'm a grown woman.  My age means that there are some nasty hormones inside me that do some crap things until I get them shut down...among them (and I can blame genetics here too, as well as chemotherapy) causing the hair on my head to make a general retreat away from the Russian front.  Never fight a war on two fronts...Napoleon didn't learn that, and neither did Germany.

So, yeah...not so much on top.

So we rely on artifice and architecture to help us feel more confident, more ourselves, or both.  For me it's more the second, but go with me here, OK?

It means my dresser is covered in equal parts medicine bottles, makeup, and comic books.  I'd have more makeup, but I have a budget, you know, and tacos have to fit in there occasionally.  I'm not too bad with eyeshadow, I love mascara like a really loving thing, and I can do amazing things with lipstain.  I have to learn about the wonders of lipliner though, I am told.  Eyeshadow and I do NOT get along.  And I've not played with concealer, foundation or blush yet.  A half dozen things at a time, please.

Here's the thing about makeup...for some of us, it's the very first thing we can do that gives us some kind of control over how we look, and how we present ourselves to the world. It's the first thing we do that shows the world us, rather than the mask we've been wearing all our lives.  It can be lifesaving, or sanity saving.  It was for me...the first time I was confident enough to wear makeup out in public to meet with a friend, it was noticed and the cause for smiles.

It also means I get to rely on the wonder of artificial hair to bolster my otherwise thinning locks.  This could be weaves, but I went the route of wigs.

Now, I say that in the plural because I got three, with the idea that at the very least I could play with them and get a feel for how they work, how to style them, how to place them, now to keep them on, et cetera.

I didn't realise when I put the first one on that I'd be sitting looking at myself in the mirror with my hands over my mouth practically crying because OMG I HAVE HAIR AND IT LOOKS LIKE MINE AND THAT'S JULIE IN THE MIRROR *thud*

Hi, I'm Julie.  Nice to meet you finally :-)

So yeah, kinda revelatory.  And awesome.  And moving myself, and a bunch of other people, to tears.  It's not MY hair, of course, but it makes me so happy that I don't care.

As evidenced by a friend's Twitter feed.  Names, IDs and User Pix redacted for privacy.

And it's artifice.  Architecture.  Just as the makeup is paint on the walls of my architecture.

But here's the thing...

I do this for myself.  Not because someone tells me I have to.  Not because someone said 'you'd look prettier with this and that and that.'  Not to impress a partner.  I do it because it makes me feel good.  Yes, it draws attention to areas I want people to look...like my eyes and my mouth, because I want them to pay attention when I talk.  And I personally want to feel good when I walk around, feeling hair bounce on my head, brushing it away from my eyes (BANGS!), and all that.

It helps me feel good, and in the end, that's what matters.

So it may be artifice and architecture, but I like it.

Now, I just need to find room for some wig forms...though it will make my plushies sad to lose their locks :-)

You left us with an impossible situation, Doctor...The Zygon Invasion (Series 9 Episode 7)

Hello and welcome to my weekly review for the most recent episode of Doctor Who.  I watch 'em, and then I watch 'em again and tell you what I think.  I've been doing this since series 3, maybe?  Definitely all of series 4, that's for sure.  A lot of you have been along for the whole ride, but if you're new, here are Julie's ground rules.

1) Julie never lies.
2) However, this is opinion, and opinion is always subjective.
3) This is spoiler-filled, obviously.  If you haven't watched, best not to read.
4) Don't let Julie have dairy.  She's lactose intolerant.
5) However, she will eat pizza and ice cream without you needing to ask.
6) Also tacos.
7) I use different forms for the reviews, depending on the week.
8) Much like regeneration, you never know what you'll get.
9) Also, I'm not ginger.

This week we get the first part of another 2-part story (which essentially makes 4 2-parters in a row, which I LOVE), titled The Zygon Invasion.  You would not be surprised, then, to find out it has Zygons in it.  It also has Kate Lethbridge Stewart.  Surprise surprise, it has an Osgood, only we're not sure which one, because one was killed my Missy in last year's 2-part finale.

What you may be surprised by is just how current events-esque the episode is.

Now, for my money, Doctor Who has always had a political, social justice side.  It's had its share of problematic episodes as well, don't get me wrong.  But it's also tackled some serious issues in its time, all the way back to the first Dalek serial and concepts of xenophobia.  A Zygon story, with it's themes of identity, would be a perfect setting for some heavy discussion, and in an era where even Batman comics are dealing with Black Lives Matter, economic and racial inequality, and other issues of similar ilk, Peter Harness does a very good job juggling those heavy themes without slowing down the action one iota.

You know, Ragnaros, I'd like you more if your dropped your ^&*(ing mount...

Trigger Warning: WoW Content.

I collect mounts in game. Mounts and pets are probably more important to me than raiding current content. Yeah, I'm a filthy casual, but kinda like FB, I play the game to hang out with and talk to friends...and collect my mounts and pets.

Several years ago...2012 to be exact...I got the Raven Lord mount out of Sethekk Halls after something like 198 runs...that's nearly 7 months of daily excursions into that place to get one attempt per day. It was more like a year, because I'd take breaks, but...

Last night, on my 70th kill of Ragnaros in Firelands, he finally deigned me worthy of a Smoldering Egg of Millagazor, which when learned gives me the Pureblood Firehawk mount.

On Halloween.

I'll take it.

Wait...WHAT dropped?

I can fly!  (Admittedly I've been able to, but now in fiery style!)