(as a compulsive sourcer, i feel compelled to note that this is apparently the chapel choir of pembroke college, cambridge, conducted by anna lapwood, and that in 2020 they released an album called 'all things are quite silent' which includes this track and also a bunch of other really gorgeous pieces like elizabeth poston's setting of 'jesus christ the apple tree' my eternally beloved <3)
happy sunday. may I offer you this absurdly beautiful piece of music about it.
like, okay, this clearly would have been a better post with excellent hires photos to illustrate it, but like. i'm still thinking about the beautiful rich black-tipped chestnut of the (huge!!) tail feathers and the bronze-and-verdigris of the breast and the way the down trailed up the back of its mostly-naked little neck and head like a tiny turkey mohawk, and the smooth sudden grace with which it flew up to perch on the railing, like a cat gathering itself and then in one smooth sudden motion: transit! only the creature is a zeppelin; and how facing away from me with the wind ruffling its feathers up in great soft ridges it looked like nothing so much as an enormous, astonishing pinecone…
holy shit turkey on the deck. god they’re SO beautiful and SO shockingly large. junoesque
gotta say tumblr's little pro-cursive revival has really reactivated early middle school memories of being forced to write up assignments in crabbed horrible cursive and hating it more with every letter whose setup i failed to properly anticipate far enough in advance to connect it smoothly (possibly bc adhd but like. hashtag guy who's only ever had adhd so what do i know.)
somehow this is not an onion article.
(god my brain is just like. yowling sad! sad!! sad!!! at me incessantly today and i gotta say: it's really unhelpful???
i'm trying to do things thru it but. oof lol)
on principle opposed to describing art i dislike as ‘masturbatory’ because even though it’s an alluringly contemptuous word to sneer it’s impossible to reconcile with my pro-masturbation stance
it really is true, i think, that no matter where you fall on a moral spectrum you'll be shocked at some things other people are willing to condone, and will seem sanctimonious to them if you disclose as much; and that in turn other people will be shocked at some things you're willing to condone, and will seem sanctimonious to you ditto…
for context this post is brought to you by my genuine (and unexpressed, ftr, except here!) startlement at seeing a blogger i've historically considered conscientious admit to not recycling their cat food cans
Eurasian Red Squirrel/ekorre. Värmland, Sweden (April 25, 2021).
saw a family tree template were you marked family members as male, female, or deceased. so glad we're finally recognizing a third gender (corpse)
The Crown (Diu Crône) by Heinrich von dem Türlin translated by J. W. Thomas
Daniel von dem Blühenden Tal translated by Michael Resler
Erec by Hartmann von Aue translated by Cyril Edwards
Iwein Knight with the Lion by Hartmann von Aue translated by Cyril Edwards
Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikhoven translated by Thomas Kerth
Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach translated by Jessie Weston
Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach translated by Edwin Zeydel
Tristan and Iseult Vol. I by Gottfriend von Straßberg translated by Jessie Weston
Tristan and Iseult Vol. II by Gottfriend von Straßberg translated by Jessie Weston
Wigalois Knight of Fortune’s Wheel by Wirnt von Grafenberg translated by J. W. Thomas
Wigalois Knight of Fortune’s Wheel by Wirnt von Grafenberg (in German)
Wigamur translated by Joseph M. Sullivan
look, was this towel ““worth mending””? debatable. did i however have fun applying my silly little patches to the hole in it? yes. :)