Even more vocabulary with even more James Joyce

I am a liar, but I do not have anyplace else to put these for now.  So, in honor of my third reading of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, LET US DO THIS.  Here are most of the words, names, and phrases I did not know or understand.

lemon platt: lemon candy

Michael Davitt: an "Irish republican and nationalist agrarian agitator," contemporary to Parnell

cachou: a lozenge eaten to sweeten the breath

soutane: a cassock [Joyce uses this a lot, particularly in reference to its swishing]

catafalque: an ornamental structure sometimes used in funerals to support the casket/body.  Can also be used as a stand-in for the body after burial

dewlap: a fold of loose skin hanging from the neck of certain animals, including some humans

"That's the real Ally Daly": [as I suspected] a much better way of saying something's "the real deal"

"Billy with the lip": William J. Walsh, archbishop of Dublin; he worked in league with Parnell for land reform but refused to give Parnell vocal or political support when the O'Shea scandal broke.

Kitty O'Shea: married English woman with whom Parnell had an affair, eventually leading to his political downfall

esplanade: a level open stretch of paved or grassy ground; especially : one designed for walking or driving along a shore [just remembered this is in a Sufjan Stevens' song title]

Terence Bellew MacManus: a radical Irish rebel who participated in the 1848 Young Irelander Rebellion.  Was sentenced to death and escaped to America, where he died in 1861

scut: to scamper away

ferulae: a strike from a cane, as in punishment

mare: Latin for "sea"

Peter Parley's Tales: a series of books for young children, embracing geography, biography, history, and science, written in the mid-19th century

"Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam": meaning "for the greater glory of God," it is the motto for the Society of Jesus and many Jesuit schools (often abbreviated AMDG)

salubrious: favorable to or promoting health or well-being

mollify: to soothe in temper or disposition

hale: free from defect, disease, or infirmity; of sound and/or healthy condition

trellis: a frame of latticework used as a screen or as a support for climbing plants

japan (v): to cover with or as if with a coat of japan, a varnish yielding a brilliant hard finish; to give a high gloss to

ringletted: having long, spirally curled hair

hillock: a small hill [whodathunk]

pedagogue: a teacher or schoolmaster, particularly a dull, formal, or pedantic one

salaam (v): to greet or pay homage to with a salaam--bowing very low and placing the right palm on the forehead.  From the Arabic word meaning "peace"

rout: a crowd of people; OR a disturbance/fuss

Confiteor: a general confession of sin recited at the beginning of the Roman Catholic Mass [I am a terrible ex-Catholic]

Cardinal Newman: a 19th century religious and literary figure, as well as leader of the Oxford movement, which strove to re-Catholicize the Anglican church, before he converted to Catholicism.  He was beatified last week by Benedict XVI

mummery: a ridiculous, hypocritical, or pretentious ceremony or performance

drisheen: a type of Irish sausage made from pigs' blood, suet, and salt; an Irish version of black pudding

garrulous: given to prosy, rambling, or tedious loquacity : pointlessly or annoyingly talkative 

bedad: substitution for "by God"

jackeen: Irish slang for a slick self-assertive lower-class Dubliner

curvetting: leaping/frisking around

  

"Tempora mutantur nos et mutamur in illis": Latin for "Times change, and we change with them"

colonnade: a long sequence of columns joined by their entablature, often free-standing, or part of a building

desuetude: discontinuance from use or exercise; disuse

languor: weakness or weariness of body or mind; listless indolence or inertia

iniquitous: characterized by gross injustice or wickedness

stultify: to cause to appear or be stupid, foolish, or absurdly illogical; to have a dulling or inhibiting effect on 

"Shelley's fragment upon the moon": referring to the unfinished poem "To the Moon" by Percy Bysshe Shelley (Mary's husband)

surd: an irrational number; a voiceless sound

sodality: an organized society or fellowship; specifically a devotional or charitable association of Roman Catholic laity

cultus: a more Latin way of saying "cult"

tawny: of a warm sandy color

simoom: a hot dry violent dust-laden wind from Asian and African deserts

rheum: a watery discharge from the mucous membranes especially of the eyes or nose; archaic for tears

sepulchre: a place of burial, i.e. tomb; a receptacle for religious relics especially in an altar

gibbet: gallows

offal: the waste or by-product of a process; rubbish

conflagration: fire; conflict; war

execration: the act of cursing or denouncing; an object of curses; the curse itself

corolla: the part of a flower that consists of the separate or fused petals and constitutes the inner whorl of the perianth

abjection: a low or downcast state; degradation; humbling; rejection

admixture: the action of mixing; the fact of being mixed; something added by mixing; a product of mixing [pretty much anything to do with mixing]

mete: to measure; to dole out by measure

plenipotentiary: invested with full power

rictus: the gape of a bird's mouth; the mouth orifice; a gaping grin or grimace

frowsy: having a slovenly or uncared-for appearance; musty; stale

capuchin: a member of the Order of Friars Minor Capuchin forming since 1529 an austere branch of the first order of St. Francis of Assisi engaged in missionary work and preaching; a hooded cloak for women

supererogation: the act of performing more than is required by duty, obligation, or need 

Paraclete: Holy Spirit [wow, I am a terrible ex-Catholic]

"Inter ubera mea commorabitur": from the Song of Solomon, means "My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh that lies between my breasts" [of course, right?]

Les jupes: French for "the skirts," which makes the joke about Franciscan monks a lot funnier now

dalmatic: a wide-sleeved overgarment with slit sides worn by a deacon or prelate

Melchisedec: a priest-king of Jerusalem who prepared a ritual meal for Abraham and received tithes from him 

novena: a Roman Catholic period of prayer lasting nine consecutive days 

novitiate: a house where novices are trained; a novice

loth: variant of "loath"

sunder: to break apart or in two; separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space [it is in a Casey Dienel song, stupid]

commiseration: expression of sympathy; condolence; sorrow

arras: a tapestry of Flemish origin used especially for wall hangings and curtains; a wall hanging or screen of tapestry

thingmote: a raised mound, 40 foot high and 240 foot in circumference, where the Norsemen assembled and made their laws. It stood on the south of the river, adjacent to Dublin Castle, until 1685 [cannot see myself using this in my writing anytime soon]

"Bous Stephanoumenos! Bous Stephaneforos": appears to refer to an ancient rite where a bull/cow was adorned with a wreath and sacrificed

seawrack: detached seaweed thrown up by the sea [never heard it referred to as such, but it is a good word]

sandknoll: a small hill of sand

interstice: a space that intervenes between things; especially : one between closely spaced things

Gerhart Hauptmann: a German dramatist and novelist who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1912

Guido Cavalcanti: a Florentine poet and friend of Dante Alighieri

Firbolg: a tribe from Irish mythology said to have once inhabited the island

Milesians: another tribe from Irish mythology, said to be the final inhabitants of Ireland

hurling: an Irish game resembling field hockey played between two teams of 15 players each 

camaun: a piece of equipment in the sport of hurling; the stick used to hurl the ball

hoydenish: saucy, boisterous, or carefree, especially pertaining to a girl or woman

Wolfe Tone: a leading figure in the United Irishmen Irish independence movement; regarded as the father of Irish republicanism

ephod: a linen apron worn in ancient Hebrew rites; especially : a vestment for the high priest; an ancient Hebrew instrument of priestly divination

Cliffs of Moher: really fucking gorgeous cliffs in Ireland

somnolent: of a kind likely to induce sleep; inclined to or heavy with sleep; drowsy

querulous: habitually complaining; whining

matric: short for matriculation [and I actually know what that means!]

fianna: in early Ireland, they were small, semi-independent warrior bands who lived apart from society in the forests as mercenaries, bandits and hunters, but could be called upon by kings in times of war

farrow: a litter of pigs 

wainscot: a fine grade of oak imported for woodwork; a usually paneled wooden lining of an interior wall; the lower three or four feet (about one meter) of an interior wall when finished differently from the remainder of the wall

augury: divination from auspices or omens; an omen; a portent

osier: any of various willows (especially Salix viminalis) whose pliable twigs are used for furniture and basketry; a willow rod used in basketry

frontispiece: an illustration preceding and usually facing the title page of a book or magazine

pavan: a stately court dance by couples that was introduced from southern Europe into England in the 16th century; music for the pavan, often having a slow duple rhythm

perambulator: a baby carriage [fuck, I knew that]

proparoxyton: a word with stress on the third-to-last syllable

What a nice word with which to end!  I had originally intended to translate all of the Latin in the fifth section, but if I had done that this entry would have to be at least twice as long.  It is time to stuff my mouth with Snickers.

Books, books, books

Choosing to read James Joyce at this point in my life is proving to be a horrible idea.  I am almost through A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and all I can think about while reading it is how good it is and how I should be in a foreign country studying literature right now.  Technically, this is my third time reading through the book in its entirety (once for Perrett's class, once at LBI two summers ago, and now), but this is the first time I feel like I somewhat adequately am attending to the prose and internalizing some of the ideas.  The end of the fourth section set my heart racing.  I think the last time I had so physiological a response to text was whilst reading the last few pages of the second section of The Sound and the Fury.  Maybe these things mean something.  More likely, I have damned myself to a life of perpetual dissatisfaction, because the alternative is absolutely abhorrent to me.  If I ever were to lay in bed, my body moonlit and sweetsmelling, it would be the death of me.

Having prepped first with Dubliners and now with Portrait, I am going to attempt to tackle Ulysses next.  I tried this past summer, with the intention of enlightening myself of every word and reference which flew over my head.  A half hour later, I was three pages into the book.  This time, I just want to get through it.  I have accepted that I will not be the first person in history to grasp the entirety of the book in a first reading.  I'll make a note of what I do not understand and move on.  If that still goes too sluggishly, I have Yukio Mishima's Sea of Fertility tetralogy to begin, Lolita to re-read, Absalom, Absalom to read, and Sum as a recommendation, if I can find a copy.  Also, I have Richard Yates by Tao Lin arriving in the mail soon, which if nothing else should be unfamiliar.

Also, The Age of Adz leaked, and it is kind of blowing my mind.

What could have been my first

About a month ago, I posted a rather glowing review of my current shower situation.  I still do enjoy the presence of the window quite a bit, but, as I recently have ascertained, it does have its other less pleasant attributes.

I was taking my morning shower, which is every bit an effort in awakening as it is in cleanliness.  I was dreamstanding and basking in the pleasantness of the warm water and the warm sunlight shining on my navel.  In the midst of my lathering, I noticed a small and black splotch fluttering about between my feet.  Without my glasses, I could not make out the details of the object, but I assumed it to be a moth that had found its way through the window, as they often have done.  Crouching down, so that the water stream was now hitting my head, I further inspected the insect and immediately noticed some blurry black and yellow stripes, along with the pronounced wings and sleek body indicative of a wasp.  In fact, it was a wasp.

I was still too blurryminded by the morning to provide an appropriate response of jumping aside or shouting a choice expletive, so I instead stepped to the back of the tub.  The full brunt of the water stream was now applied to the wasp.  I was hoping for it to become waterlogged and sink down into the drain, but it defiantly kept its wings buzzing.  It was never able to get more than an inch or so off the porcelain, but it also was showing no signs of acquiescing for the sake of my peaceful shower.  I could feel a mote of respect for the wasp coalescing in my chest, which made crushing it under the wet slap of a shampoo bottle all the more difficult.  After a minute of silent observation, I lifted the bottle, and the small and black splotch floated hesitantly along the white porcelain and disappeared into the dark drain.

As I stood there, wet and naked, my hands wrapped around a shampoo bottle, I realized that this moment had not been my proudest.  Placing the bottle back on the windowsill, I nevertheless was comforted in the fact that at least I had avoided getting stung in the dick.

You do not beat Final Fantasy; Final Fantasy beats you

Not a whole lotta blag postan lately.  This is because I have been playing Final Fantasy III for the DS, and everything not related to Final Fantasy III for the DS has been reduced in priority, because those things do not help me beat Final Fantasy III for the DS.  I just finished it tonight, however, so I thankfully am free of that obligation and may once again pursue things that have a better chance of bettering my life.

Also, I am beyond grateful that my ROM of Final Fantasy Tactics A2 is not working for some reason, because otherwise I probably would set the record for "least amount of time spent as a Biochemistry grad student at CU Boulder."

I do not have too much to say at the moment, but I will share this video, which is masterful:

Of fire and fauna

I do not know how much of a national news item it was, but there was a pretty sizable wildfire that broke out quite close to Boulder last Monday morning (the 6th).  Fortunately, the city escaped unscathed, although, at the start of last weekend, some areas of northern Boulder were placed on watch for possible evacuation, due to some pretty strong winds.  I am about as far on the southern edge of the city as one can get; I never really had to worry, then, but it was still a pretty unreal experience, to have such a large and odd disaster occur so close to where I live.

The surreality of it was never stronger than it was on the day the fire started, though.  It was around noontime when I heard about it.  I went outside and literally the entire northern horizon was covered in a grey cloud.  I took this picture from my yard around that time.

I snapped a couple pictures, but in most of them it just looks like the sky is overcast.  Here, you can have somewhat of a sense of the scope of this thing.  That huge grey cloud is all smoke, and I spent a decent amount of time just watching it slowly eat away at the sky.  Sure enough, by that evening, the smoke covered the entire city.  I could smell it too.  All through that night and Tuesday, the air smelled constantly of a campfire.  It is a smell I enjoy, but in this context there was a sickening sweetness to it.  The smoke was everywhere Tuesday, inside and outside of every building and body.  Walking to class, I saw the morning sun shine through the trees and the rays scatter off the slowly swirling mass of fine ash.  Parts of the city apparently experienced little rains of ash on Monday afternoon.

Here also is a satellite photograph taken by NASA about a day after the outbreak.

While on the subject of photographs, one of the unexpected things I am enjoying about this new home is the variety of fauna I have never seen before.  With insects especially it is interesting to see the unfamiliar species that live here.  There are a few paths that run around the houses here, and the one I take to the bus stop was flanked by two fields of tall grass until a few days ago when the resident-side grass was cut down.  I mention this because these fields were home to some ridiculously awesome grasshoppers.  And I mean these really were grass hoppers, often leaping across the path from one tall stalk to another.  Early afternoons were the best, when the grasshoppers were out in full force, and walking along the path would prompt an explosion of hopping.  Like a water fountain, the multitude grasshoppers would arch across the air in front of me, as if in greeting.  Now that the grass is gone, most of these grasshoppers seem to have moved to another area, and I would be lying if I said I did not miss them.

I also caught this dude crawling on my window this afternoon.

I have no idea what kind of bug this is, and for all I know it could be the Colorado Most Deadly Fucking Beetle, but it sure was a cool looking not-so-little guy.

Full of Seven Idiots!

Man, I do not know why I was complaining/getting masochistic in the previous entry, because World's End Girlfriend's new album Seven Idiots just arrived in the mail today.  I am so impressed--this is only a day after its official release.  Even most albums I pre-order within the states never arrive this fast.  Looking at the postage, I see that Katsuhiko Maeda was kind enough to mail it on September 9, ensuring that it would arrive on time, and I cannot express enough how much I appreciate that.

This peculiarity may be particular to me, but, when ordering albums from independent labels or persons, what I love just as much as the record itself is its packaging.  I am not referring to the extras that may come with the disc, although those are cool too, but the envelope or box in which everything was delivered.  For instance, when I ordered Unfair/Funfair directly from Simon Bookish, I found it neat to see his handwriting on the package, in addition to the fact that he had used his Christian name, Leo Chadburn.  I have heard tales of personalized drawings on envelopes, but I have yet to be so lucky to receive an example.  Seven Idiots came in an entirely black envelope, which is something I have never seen before, i.e. it is awesome.  It also has a stamp reading "Hachioji Japon," the Virgin Babylon Records insignia and address printed on the bottom, and a signature by Katsuhiko Maeda himself (assuming it is actually him, but I would be willing to be it is).  All in all, cool stuff.  The CD also was covered generously with bubble wrap, which is much appreciated, considering how many jewel cases I have received cracked en route.

Alright, I am listening to this fucking album now.

Short of Seven Idiots

World's End Girlfriend's new album is out today, meaning it was out yesterday in Japan, meaning it has leaked to the interwebs, meaning I normally would be listening to it by now.  I am waiting, however, because I actually ordered the CD this time.  I figure I owe at least that to Katsuhiko Maeda for the shameless piracy of each of his past albums, not to mention the fact that he just started his own label, Virgin Babylon Records, and I would love for it to see success.  It is not a feeling I allow myself often enough, the exhilaration of opening a new CD brimming with new music.

That is not to say that I do not have plenty of music to keep me occupied in the meantime.  Sometimes, I appraise new artists and albums as soon as I download them; more often, I establish a significant backlog of unlistened files on my hard drive, which is already at capacity, until I reach the point where I need to figure out what to keep on SalieriII and what to store on my external lest I have nary enough room to save a .txt file.  I am in the middle of the latter situation right now, and the majority of what I have so far is quite good.  Some will warrant further writing.

Here is a brief summary of the past week using only nouns, in roughly chronological order:

fire

fluorescence

powerpoint

jacket

TA

nine

Expedition

pass

lodge

martini

presentations

posters

Polaris

keg

party

cigarette

police

dissolution

biscuits

gravy

presentations

presentations

presentations

pizza

presentations

poster

Zion I

parents

Franziskaner

critique

E. coli

artichoke

incubation

I love credits

I do not like skipping ending credits.  If I have just finished a good movie or video game, there is nothing I enjoy more than sitting in repose and reflection for five minutes while white letters scroll slowly across the black screen.  I think I can blame my parents foremost for this habit; as a family, we used to play a game at the end of every movie by counting the number of times our respective names would appear in the credits.  Whoever had the most popular name won, and, by virtue of having the most commonplace name, I usually did.  Of course, it was one of those wonderful games where the winner did not "win" anything, but it was fun to be the last people in the theater, pointing at the projection and keeping a tally.

I do not remember the last time I played that game.  My credit-watching may have started habitually, then, but there are other reasons too why I still indulge in them.  Depending on the intensity of a movie or video game, sometimes a cooldown period is necessary to slow the beating of a heart or the racing of a mind.  If it is something I particularly enjoyed and appreciated, then I feel obligated to give the creators their due with a silent vigil over their names.  In cases like these, the notion of the afterglow is also relevant--the credits provide an opportunity to relax and bask in the fantastic experience of what I have just witnessed, or of which I have been a part.  Even for films and games I have not liked as much, the credits are a good place to collect my thoughts and analyze what was executed poorly and executed well.  There is just nothing quite like being allowed the quiet feeling of sitting in the dark, being allowed the rare opportunity to do nothing but appreciate.

It has become a trend for films to include extra material into their credits sequences, whether it be outtakes, animation, or extra "postscript" scenes, and I do not like these as much.  They too easily distract from what I like to be a quiet and reflective experience.  Video games can suffer from this too, but games also can have credits sequences more dynamic than the white-text-on-black classic which I feel do work quite well as meditative facilitators.  Majora's Mask immediately comes to mind, with an ending credits sequence that changes depending upon how many masks the player has collected.  If a player has a particular mask, then the credits will play over a short scene involving the characters whom you had to help in order to get that mask.  It provides the player with a small coda, revealing how the acquisition of the mask has enabled the characters to live more happily in a world now free from apocalypse.  Without the mask, the credits will be shown over a blank screen.  These dynamic sequences work perfectly for Majora's Mask, a game whose focus was to create a living, breathing world of people with whom the player could interact on a personal level.  Rather than ending simply on the cliche of saving the world, you actually feel like you have made a difference in the lives of others.  It is one of the many reasons why Majora's Mask is my favorite Zelda game.

The early Spyro the Dragon games also had good credits, seen below:

The camera simply pans over the past levels, but it works as a technique to remind you of everything you have explored, and it facilitates fond reflection quite well.

Finally, the ending credits can be a great source of great music.  Stewart Copeland's contribution above is noteworthy, as are the rest of his compositions for the original Spyro trilogy.  Twilight Princess's credits also have some gorgeous music, regardless of the synthesized orchestra, particularly following the heart-wrenching final scene.  What I want to highlight, though, is music for the end of a game I have yet to play: Skies of Arcadia.

This is a game I have wanted to play for about a decade, because, honestly, who would not want to play an RPG about sky pirates?  And, after hearing this piece, I do not think I can hesitate any longer in getting it.  Absolutely beautiful.

On a very related note, happy 11th birthday to the Sega Dreamcast (9/9/99).  You are gone, but certainly not forgotten.

Re:Turnage

Listen to this before reading the rest of the entry.  It is an piece by composer Mark Anthony Turnage entitled "Hammered Out," which just premiered over a week ago at the 2010 BBC Proms.  Pay attention to the melody when it starts at ~0:30 especially, but you should hear the whole piece too, to appreciate it fully.

Yes, you heard correctly: that just quoted/arranged the entirety of "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" by Beyoncé.  It was completely intentional: Turnage is the same guy who is writing an opera based on the life of Anna Nicole Smith.  According to this source, he apparently included the reference for his son, Milo, who loves dancing to "Single Ladies," although Turnage is an admitted fan of jazz, soul, and R&B.

Of course, one easily can imagine a knee-jerk reaction from the audience which is less than pleased.  Actually, it is easier to imagine an immediate state of disbelief, as the audience doubts that they are hearing what they think they are hearing.  Indeed, it appears many critics writing immediately following the performance did not mention "Single Ladies" at all (see here, here, and here).  On one hand, it is entirely possible that these people were not aware of Beyoncé and thus could not have established the connection, but it is hard to believe that was the case for every reviewer, and it is even harder to imagine that they all would have been deaf to the comments of their more pop-knowledgeable peers.  So why is there no mention of this blatant continuity?

I do not think it is unfair to say that there is a sense of elitism which pervades the contemporary classical community--a sense that someone who listens to John Adams is a better appreciator of music than someone who listens to John Mayer.  I do not mean to single out contemporary classical people, however; a same superiority complex can be found in the "indie" community, which can perceive itself as intrinsically "better" and more "about the art" than "money-grubbing" major labels pumping out pop stars.  In fact, music elitism is a trend that far too ubiquitously spans all genres and tastes, and it is a hugely worthless thing.  Even a mild example such as the concept of the "guilty pleasure" implies a shame which should be associated with the appreciation of a certain band or song.  Likewise, liking a band also can be nested safely in the generous bosom of irony.  It is ridiculous!  I am far from the paradigm of confidence, and my insecurities have prompted similar elitist defenses from me in the past, but, if we cannot be honest about our opinions of music, then about what can we be honest?

The reason I am singling out the contemporary classical community (and I wish I had a less bulky phrase for them) is because I do not think they can afford elitism right now.  Elitism is wonderful for group solidarity, but it is rubbish for recruiting new members, and anyone who has attended a recent orchestral or chamber music concert can tell that the mean age is towards the end of the spectrum which is not "fresh from the womb."  Twentieth century modern compositions also, for the most part, do not have the advantage of being immediately appreciable, unlike the majority of rock or pop music.  We can sit back and listen to I-IV-V easily, because it is familiar to us, but, as a culture, our ears are not as attuned to dissonance, atonality, polyrhythm, and other hallmarks of modern composition.  In short, modern composers are not likely to attract new audience members by virtue of their music alone, and, unless they want dwindling appreciation and resources, some changes are going to have to be made.

I do not think the answer is to change their style of composition, first of all.  I honestly think it can be done without "pandering," and I think "Hammered Out" is a perfect example.  Turnage had a style of composition which already incorporated jazzy sounds and influences, and he used his own personal techniques to turn the relative simplicity of "Single Ladies" into an over 10 minute long flurry of brass and orchestra, which I think succeeds both as a new piece of music and as a way to recruit some new ears.  New listeners can be drawn in by the familiarity of the "Single Ladies" melody, while at the same time they can hear sounds which they may not have heard before.  Not everybody is going to like it, but some undoubtedly will find some intrigue that inspires further exploration of modern compositions.

And, really, quoting popular music in orchestral compositions is nothing new--it has been happening since the Baroque period, and likely before that too.  From Bach to Bartok, composers have drawn inspiration from folk music, and, in the twenty-first century, there is no reason why it cannot happen now.  Indeed, the opposite happens often as well--popular music will quote or reference classical works, which can be another way of recruiting new listeners to the modern classical scene.  I am sure, for example, that there are plenty of people who have started listening to Chopin or Rachmaninoff because of Muse, and there is nothing wrong with that.  Researching a band's influences can be a fantastic way to discover new music.

On a slightly related note, I think that smart programs can do a lot for broadening an audience's musical exposure.  A program of just George Crumb material is not going to be as hot a ticket as a program of just Beethoven music.  However, a night of Beethoven alone can become a rather boring one, so more concert halls should focus on programs that include well-known and established baroque, classical, and romantic material coupled with material from twentieth century and/or newer composers.  Draw audiences in with the familiar, but also give them a taste of something alien and exciting.

I will conclude by saying that I really do like this piece, and I think more modern composers should take a note from Turnage.  I am not saying that everybody should start rearranging Lady Gaga, but people should recognize that modern compositions do not exist in a vacuum, nor can they.  Even Turnage's comment on his inspiration, that he wrote the piece because his son likes "Single Ladies," sounds like he is dodging the truth to save face.  If he is going to go through the trouble of writing an entire piece around this song, then obviously he has some appreciation of it himself, and it would have been so much more powerful for him to say outright "I like Beyoncé."  Everyone, even a fifty-year-old white British guy, has every entitlement in the world to say "I like Beyoncé" without a hint of shame.

Learning vocabulary with James Joyce: another installment

Sometimes you are writing an entry and you like the subject and you cannot wait to finish and then you realize everything you have written may as well be the phrase "horse's rear end" repeated ad nauseum, only if it were written as such you actually might have conveyed an idea.

When that happens, it is sometimes better to return to basics.  I finished Dubliners yesterday, so here are more words and phrases which I was unable to define on the spot, as revealed by my sun-warmed book.

snug (n): a small private room or compartment in a pub, short for snuggery

execrate: to declare to be evil or detestable; to detest utterly

eclogue: a poem in which shepherds converse

peony: in the context of the story, Joyce appeared to referring to the bright pink color of the flowers

barmbrack: a yeasted bread with added sultanas and raisins--a staple of Irish Halloween custom

sup: a mouthful especially of liquor or broth; a small quantity of liquid

coal scuttle: a domestic metal container for coal

astrakhan: a cloth with a usually wool, curled, and looped pile resembling karakul, a breed of central Asian sheep

timorous: of a timid disposition [duh, Steve]

impresario: the promoter, manager, or conductor of an opera or concert company; a person who puts on or sponsors an entertainment

obsequious: marked by or exhibiting a fawning attentiveness

ignominy: deep personal humiliation and disgrace; disgraceful or dishonorable conduct, quality, or action

bowsy: slang for a fool [I remember having to look this up for Ulysses too]

denuded: deprived of something important; stripped of all covering or surface layers

spondulics: slang for money

fenian: a member of a legendary band of warriors defending Ireland in the second and third centuries a.d.; a member of a secret 19th century Irish and Irish-American organization dedicated to the overthrow of British rule in Ireland [the latter definition is probably the more relevant one to the story]

serge: a durable twilled fabric having a smooth clear face and a pronounced diagonal rib on the front and the back

charmeuse: a fine semilustrous crepe in satin weave

Feis Ceoil: an annual Irish cultural festival of music and dance first organized in 1897 [James Joyce competed as a singer in one of them]

opulence: wealth; abundance

magniloquent: speaking in or characterized by a high-flown often bombastic style or manner

inundated: flooded; overwhelmed

tessellated: having a checkered appearance

incipient: beginning to come into being or to become apparent [see also this]

insuperable: incapable of being surmounted, overcome, passed over, or solved [again, duh, Steve]

usury: an unconscionable or exorbitant rate or amount of interest

peloothered: slang for drunk

valise: suitcase

bostooms: slang for rogues/bumpkins?

omadhaun: a fool, someone who is out of their senses, simpleton [this and the previous three words were all on the same page.  What the hell, Joyce?]

oxter: chiefly Scottish and Irish word for armpit/arm

trumpery: worthless nonsense; trivial or useless articles

balustrade: a row of balusters [an object or vertical member (as the leg of a table, a round in a chair back, or the stem of a glass) having a vaselike or turned outline] topped by a rail; a low parapet or barrier 

surplice: a loose white outer ecclesiastical vestment usually of knee length with large open sleeves

palaver: idle talk; misleading or beguiling speech

scintillate: to emit sparks; to emit quick flashes as if throwing off sparks

stirabout: a porridge of Irish origin consisting of oatmeal or cornmeal boiled in water or milk and stirred

solicitude: the state of being concerned and anxious; attentive care and protectiveness

guttapercha: A rubbery substance derived from the latex of any of several tropical trees of the genera Palaquium and Payena

swarthy: of a dark color, complexion, or cast

viand: an item of food; a choice or tasty dish

quadrille: a square dance for four couples made up of five or six figures chiefly in ⁶⁄₈ and ²⁄₄ time; also : music for this dance

tumid: marked by swelling; bombastic

imprecation: a curse

tabinet: a material made from wool and silk, used for clothes

pierglass: a large high mirror; especially : one designed to occupy the wall space between windows

rankle: to cause anger, irritation, or deep bitterness; to feel anger and irritation

"I have a crow to pluck with you.": a much funnier way of saying "I have a bone to pick with you"

embrasure: an opening with sides flaring outward in a wall or parapet of a fortification usually for allowing the firing of cannon

Beannacht libh: Irish for "blessings to you," approximately

blancmange: a usually sweetened and flavored dessert made from gelatinous or starchy ingredients and milk [sounds delicious!]

lugubrious: exaggeratedly or affectedly mournfu; dismal

invidious: tending to cause discontent, animosity, or envy

impetuous: marked by impulsive vehemence or passion; marked by force and violence of movement or action

cheval glass: a full-length mirror in a frame in which it may be tilted

I promise this is the last time I will do this kind of thing for a long while, for I imagine it is as tedious to read as it is embarrassing for me.  As a reward for your fortitude, here is "The Lass of Aughrim", a traditional Irish song which plays a very vital part in "The Dead."  I have a bad habit of skipping past songs when they are included in stories, but I am glad to be able to hear this one.

Learning vocabulary with James Joyce: an installment

I continue to have a terrible vocabulary.  It was always my worst section on the Iowa tests throughout grade school, and it was is in what I lost the most points when I took the SAT or the GRE.  I am in the process of reading through the entirety of James Joyce's Dubliners, which is something I have not done before.  In order to expand my literary prowess, when I come across an unfamiliar word or phrase, I am double-underlining it so as to remind myself to look it up later.  Dubliners is not so challenging in its verbiage, and I am not finished with it yet, but here is what I have so far:

simony: the buying or selling of a church office or ecclesiastical preferment 

Rosicrucian: an adherent of a 17th and 18th century movement professing esoteric and occult wisdom with emphasis on mysticism and spiritual enlightenment

breviary: a book of the prayers, hymns, psalms, and readings for the canonical hour

miching: Hiding; skulking; cowardly

Dodder: any of a genus (Cuscuta) of wiry twining vines of the morning-glory family that are highly deficient in chlorophyll, are parasitic on other plants, and have tiny scales instead of leaves 

jerry hat: a stiff, felt hat [this must be a really old term, because I cannot find a picture of one anywhere, and even Joyce wrote that "jerry hat" was what they "used to call" it]

cretonne: a strong cotton or linen cloth used especially for curtains and upholstery  

Poppens: appears to be a term of endearment modeled after one of Joyce's sisters, who was called "Poppie."  Also, Google searching the term alone will come up almost exclusively with hits for the porn star "Cherry Poppens"

Derevaun Seraun: seems to be a corrupted Gaelic phrase, which is very good reason for why I did not recognize it

madrigal: a medieval short lyrical poem in a strict poetic form OR a complex polyphonic unaccompanied vocal piece on a secular text developed especially in the 16th and 17th centuries

Stephen's Green: a public park in Dublin [note to self: go there]

recherché: Sought out with care; choice. Hence: of rare quality, elegance, or attractiveness; peculiar and refined in kind — especially with an artificial or pretentious effect

adroitness: : having or showing skill, cleverness, or resourcefulness in handling situations 

equipoise: a state of equilibrium; counterbalance

To conclude, here is an example of how my ego usually finds a way to stay in equipoise:  On Monday, while she was ringing up my cookie, the cute girl at the library café complimented my glasses.  Later that day, I learned that James Joyce wrote all of the stories in Dubliners between the ages of 22 and 25.