{ IN MEDIA RES }

Bakumatsu Kikansetsu Irohanihoheto

Posted in Reviews by netscheri on July 29, 2007

Iroha Title Screen

Bakumatsu Kikansetsu Irohanihoheto is set within the last days of the Shogunate, during the Bakumatsu era and is a mix of the historical, action, adventure and supernatural genres. It follows swordsman, ronin and once-bodyguard of Sakamoto Ryouma, Akidzuki Youjirou as he attempts to seal a (supernatural) item known as the Lord’s Head, with his story being played out against the backdrop of history.

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Désirée

Posted in Original, Prose, Writing by netscheri on July 28, 2007

“…You will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens…” – The Odyssey.

I remember there were three of them. It was the same, yet different every time; the same words and utterances of predefined ritual and ceremony, the same process, and every time my heart was ice. One of them I even knew as a friend, but even that did not stay my hand.He was the first. I heard the knock on the door of my apartment and thought nothing of it as I went to open it. But as soon as I did, I understood. I held the door open, wide open, to allow him passage. We didn’t speak, I’m don’t know if we would have been able to. His skin, when our hands briefly touched, was as cold as ice, as cold as my executioner’s mask. I can’t remember what we did before the water, shapes had started blurring into each other; I was too frozen to realize anything, but instinct must have guided my movements, my words or un-words. These are our laws, this is how we survive. At some point, both of us stood up, a kind of synchronization, a step in a dance.He walked. I followed.Water, water. For birth, for the ocean that we all come from. I remember that at that time I could see our reflections in the piano. The ritual, if it could be called that, began. It is nameless, it is timeless, a relentless machine that consumed me, consumed him. We became the queen and the pawn. The pawn standing before his queen while the enemy scuttles, besieging. The pawn standing before the queen, prepared to bow, willing to fall.

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Michael Ondaatje

Posted in Writing by netscheri on July 18, 2007

One of my favourite and most admired writers. What draws me to his work, is the lyricism of both his prose and poetry, the inventiveness of his imagery. Perhaps inventiveness is not the word.  The juxtapositioning in his imagery, of combining two elements that conventionally would seem strange together. A dream-like quality in his work.

 

The Distance of a Shout – Michael Ondaatje

We lived on the medieval coast
south of warrior kingdoms
during the ancient age of the winds
as they drove all things before them.

Monks from the north came
down our streams floating that was
the year no one ate river fish.

There was no book of the fores,
no book of the sea, but these
are the places people died.

Handwriting occurred on waves,
on leaves, the scripts of smoke,
a sign on a bridge along the Mahaweli River.

A gradual acceptance of this new language.

 

 

It reminds me of ‘A Different History’ by Sujata Bhatt.

Mundanity

Posted in Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on July 16, 2007

plastic scrapes my hand raw but leaves only white
(‘like the back of my hand’/’I feel so honoured’)
plastic scrapes my hand raw but leaves only white
slipping from my grasp
I let go
and everything slides tumbling but my hand is raw and my fingers empty-grasp-empty
‘I feel so honoured

Cleaning up on the floor kneeling
piles on piles, everything is organised but nothing is clean
The back of my hand stings but nothing is purged
Tidying, my fingers full –

Comments: Yes, the ending is intentional. Hmm, it’s very, very rough right now and I don’t suppose the ideas are very clear. The moment I wanted to express in this was just when after struggle, when someone decides to let go, but that moment and the emotions behind it are so quickly lost or overwhelmed afterwards, and what is left is that half-feeling of something more, something forgotten to be remembered.

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Todesfuge

Posted in Poetry, Writing by netscheri on July 15, 2007

Death Fugue (1944)

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening
we drink it at midday
and morning we drink it at night
we drink and we drink
we shovel a grave in the air
where you won’t lie too cramped
A man lives in the house
he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Marguerite
he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are all sparkling
he whistles his hounds to stay close
he whistles his Jews into rows has them shovel a grave in the ground
he commands us play up for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at morning and midday we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Marguerite
Your ashen hair Shulamith we shovel a grave in the air
there you won’t lie too cramped

He shouts dig this earth deeper you lot there you others sing up and play
he grabs for the rod in his belt he swings it his eyes are so blue
stick your spades deeper you lot there you others play on for the dancing
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday and morning we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Marguerite
your aschenes Haar Shulamith he plays with his vipers

He shouts play death more sweetly Death is a master from Deutschland
he shouts scrape your strings darker you’ll rise up as smoke to the sky
you’ll then have a grave in the clouds where you won’t lie too cramped

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday Death is a master aus Deutschland
we drink you at evening and morning we drink and we drink
this Death is ein Meister aus Deutschland his eye it is blue
he shoots you with shot made of lead shoots you level and true
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margarete
he looses his hounds on us grants us a grave in the air
he plays with his vipers and daydreams der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland

dein goldenes Haar Margarete
dein aschenes Haar Shulamith

 

– Paul Celan/Translation by Michael Hamburger

 

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Name your kid this someday

Posted in Uncategorized by netscheri on July 15, 2007

Belial: m worthless

– I actually like this name. The sound and the meaning are interesting.

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Music – Tibet

Posted in Music by netscheri on July 15, 2007

Somehow, this blog has become a music blog too. I first heard Tibetan singing during the movie Red River Valley and was immediately fascinated by it. There seemed to a certain quality in the singer’s voice that I had hardly, if ever, heard before, a sense of a great expanse. It seems to be particularly prominent when the singer reached the higher registers of her range. Wikipedia then provides this description – “the loud, projecting voice of traditional Tibetan singing” with “a wide vocal range and long phrases.” Though I can’t confirm this, it seems that this ‘projecting’ quality of Tibetan singing is related to the altitude of Tibet (approx. 3,000 metres above sea level), which in turn affects the capacity of the lungs, as well as affecting the vocal cords. Interesting, but so far, I haven’t been able to properly verify whether this is true or not.

And as a point of comparison, the same song sung but with a different style. Strangely enough, this singer, too, is Tibetan. This version of the song is sung in Mandarin Chinese, not Tibetan:

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Names of the moment

Posted in Miscellany by netscheri on July 15, 2007

Raphael: m From the Hebrew name רְפָאֵל (Refa’el) which meant “God has healed”. Raphael was one of the seven archangels in Hebrew tradition. In the Book of Tobit in the Old Testament it is told how he aided Tobias. This was also the name of a 16th-century Renaissance painter, the designer of several of the frescoes in the Vatican Palace in Rome.

– Apparently, there are quite a few variations of the pronunciation of this name with each language. I say it as either rahr-fie-EL or rah-fie-EL.

– And it could be shortened to ‘Rafe’.

Anaïs: f  Provençal and Catalan form of Anna (Latin version of the name Hannah. From the Hebrew name חַנָּה (Channah) which meant “favour” or “grace”.)

– It looks beautiful on paper, but perhaps not so well when spoken.

(Name meanings from www.behindthename.com)

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Pictures – Sneaky Sound System

Posted in Downloads, Music by netscheri on July 15, 2007

 

Sneaky Sound System

 

Pictures/Sneaky Sound System/Remix/Funk/Dance/Australia

 

 

Download the non-remix version here

 

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Un petit cadeau

Posted in Original, Prose, Writing by netscheri on July 14, 2007

The Sea of Quietude: A Study of Distance

1:46 am (a moth)

The impersonality of the room is like that of a hotel suite. There is something else as well. The space in the middle of the room seems too empty, the tabletop too tidy, the angles made by crisp books too sharp. There is something missing. The colour of the walls is indistinguishable in the dark, but they too feel white. No curtain is drawn across the glass doors leading onto the balcony. Only light from the city, subdued by distance, enters. Unlike the whiteness of the room, this murky, rounded darkness speaks.

The bulge created by a body near the left and right edges of the bed however, are anomalies, belonging to neither the inside room, or the outside night. The rise and fall of their chests interrupts the stillness of the dark, the composure of absence; creating wrinkles, indentations in the perfectly pressed linen. The narrow strip of bed between them is undisturbed, crease-free. It is an invisible line neither will cross by their own volition, a will that extends even to times when neither is conscious.

One bed. Separate sides. Separate dreams.

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