Trivial Pursuits

Are Ya Chinese or Japanese?

As of today, Dr. Ms. TP is now a permanent resident of the U.S.A., one of the chief benefits of which, according to her, is that she may now stand with TP in the "Citizens/Permanent Residents" Line when returning to the U.S. from overseas.

She explains this as such: "It's just like finding a perfect parking place."

Sweet.

Reason # 457 Why I Love Ms. TP

I was telling Ms. TP about this story, of which the first paragraph reads

A spike in anti-Semitic hate crimes and vandalism across Houston in recent months has alarmed police and set the Jewish community on edge, investigators and activists said today.

After I mentioned it, she remarked, "Well, better hide your horns."

Almost fell off my chair laughing.

Reason No. 616 Why I Love My Wife

Contained in an email sent from Ms. TP:

"when is the U playing this weekend?"

She called it, "The U."  I'm just so proud . . . *sniffle*

Amazing

I've come to the conclusion that Tom Waits' masterpiece Alice is the best album of the last 5 years. It is the fullest, richest, most amazing music I've heard in so long. The gravelly, patient yet ferocious voice, the elegant jazz ballads, the smoky themes, the exquisite images. Consider this line from "Fish And Bird"

They bought a round for the sailor
And they heard his tale
Of a world that was so far away
And a song that we'd never heard
A song of a little bird
That fell in love with a whale

He said, 'You cannot live in the ocean'
And she said to him
'You never can live in the sky'
But the ocean is filled with tears
And the sea turns into a mirror
There's a whale in the moon when it's clear
And a bird on the tide

In particular, the second verse here affects me. The vastness of ocean and sky, the deepness of the folds of each, the undiscovered, the unknown, the infinite distances within and between. The figurative meanings are textured and manifold. The very definition of a rich metaphor. As if that were not enough as an allegory, Waits invokes the image of the ocean being filled "with [the] tears of the whale," becoming a mirror that reflects the whale's image on face of the ultimate image of love, the moon, for the bird and the world to see as the bird flies alone in the fastness. At the same time, the mirror that is the surface of the sea reflects the image of the bird on the tides, the effects of which rock the whale to and fro in the eddies and currents of the depths.

It's poetry, and it's pretty effing good. The words stand alone, but when combined with Waits' evocative, narrative voice, and the slow, elongated notes and chords, his music draws on the heart like a bowstring or a blade, and cuts just as deep.

I love this album.