Cave of Forgotten Dreams

This is a documentary worth seeing, if for the sole reason that you'll never be able to visit the Chauvet cave and see the images for yourself.

The film tells the story of Chauvet cave in France that has the oldest prehistoric art, preserved well for 37,000 years because it was inaccessible for tens of thousands of years. It was discovered in the mid 1990's by accident, and soon after closed for the public for ever.
There are about 350 caves in France and Spain with similar art, but none as old.
Werner Hertzog was given permission to visit and shoot in there for 4 hours only. The cave is only open one week in a year for scientist and researchers.
He talks throughout the film, we hear his ruminations about the meaning of the drawings and his feelings as he walks in this ancient, deserted place of human worship. Sometimes his questions are completely out of the scope of the scientists he is interviewing, but they are kind and try to answer his inquiries with a sense of humour to the best of their abilities.
What is striking, what stays with us after seeing this, is the effective way those people were able to represent their appreciation of the natural environment in which they lived, how well they used the minimal means they had at their disposal to leave traces of their minds and way of life for us.
They are referred to as primitive people, but when you look at a galloping beautiful horse or a hunting lion which no longer exists, there is nothing primitive about it, only sublime, delicate beauty.

Summer Reads - Ian Rankin

I've been on a roll with Ian Rankin. We've devoted this summer to him, almost exclusively.
Not terribly challenging to read, the plots unfold themselves at a slow pace, slow enough to allow me to figure them out before I get to the end and make me feel pleased with my clever self.
The main detectives are usually misfits, with vices which only hurt themselves, their lives devoted to making life in Edinborough a little tougher for the wicked. They don't always succeed in their endeavours. I suppose that's why they are so widely liked.
I've read a few of Rebus's adventures, if you can call them that. He is a fine fellow to spend a summer with. Smart, relentless, unruly with a great mistrust of authorities and criminals alike. He drinks his way around the crimes he is investigating, even when told to stop both activities.
The new guy in my current book "The Complaints", Foxy, or Malcolm Fox, is even better than Rebus. I hope he is a recurrent player, but I haven't explored the list to know if he ever comes back or not.

To compliment the books we've watched a few episodes of the TV series Rebus, only to discover their resemblance to the books that bear the same names is completely non existent. You'd think it's not important, but it is. The TV plots are not as well developed, they are shallow and not as compelling as the ones in the book. Still, not a bad way to spend an evening at home during a thundering summer rainstorm.

Positives

Despite difficulties and challenges, this summer has been, continues to be, warm and pleasant and just fine. I believe in weather, even when the night sky is alight with lightning and fat warm rain pours down.

* Warm nights, playing tennis as the sun goes down, albeit not well enough to be seen in public, but fun nonetheless. A good excuse for wearing short shorts and run around like kids in the park.

*Last days of rising whenever one desires, not having to rush anyone out of bed for school.

*Flowers of a Rose of Sharon staring at me through my kitchen window as I sip my tasty coffee.

For the Love of Coffee

Coffee is a simple pleasure, yet so important.
Can you imagine not having any when you want some? must be so difficult. I remember episodes in movies about WW2 where desperate people did all kinds of things for a little bit of coffee grinds, and how far they went to get every bit of flavour out of it. It's always in my mind when I empty a filter into the trash and think myself lucky.
The Marriage of Maria Brown comes to mind - has anyone in this country ever seen this movie?

So, I bought an espresso machine. Second hand, of course. I am the queen of second hand. Cragslist has become a habit.

I LOVE my new machine. I take care of it, I clean it like you clean a weapon. I make a great cup of whatever every morning and I say to myself - I don't need to go to another coffee shop as long as this machine is alive.

I think it was a good investment.

Come Fly Away

Those who pay attention may remember a post a while ago with a youtube old video of Baryshnikov dancing a Twyla Tharp duet set to Frank Sinatra songs. Well, as it turns out this old dance piece has been turned into a full blown Broadway show called Come Fly Away and this afternoon I took my dancer boy to watch it at the Four Season center - rush tickets, naturally.
We had fun, despite my usual criticisms. The voice was Sinatra's, with a live band on stage. The choreography and staging could have been better. I liked the Baryshnikov version better, I admit. Broadway is not my thing. Still, the big band was fantastic, and the dancers very vibrant and sexy.
All in all, a nice way to spend an afternoon. We then went home and rented the old Guys and Dolls movie to give the young man some perspective on Sinatra. I still think it's the best musical ever to be produced.

A Poem by Adrienne Rich

From an Atlas of the Difficult World by Adrienne Rich
I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains' enormous spaces around you.
I know you are reading this poem
in a room where too much has happened for you to bear
where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed
and the open valise speaks of flight
but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem
as the underground train loses momentum and before running
up the stairs
toward a new kind of love
your life has never allowed.
I know you are reading this poem by the light
of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide
while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.
I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room
of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.
I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light
in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,
count themselves out, at too early an age. I know
you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick
lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on
because even the alphabet is precious.
I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your
hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty.
I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language
guessing at some words while others keep you reading
and I want to know which words they are.
I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn
between bitterness and hope
turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.
I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else
left to read
there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

Positives

Because the negatives (and there are some) are too depressing:

* Giving testimony for hours while your opponents have no choice but listen, the clock is ticking their money away as their hired entourage is paid by the hour.

* getting help from an old friend which money couldn't possibly buy.

* Gentle rustle of a summer rain in the trees, and a city house as quiet on a Monday like a country estate.

* kitchen mayhem slowly coming to a close, cooking is pleasant again, knickknacks go back on the walls, it feels like home again.

* nothing more precious than a hug from your big boy, and a kiss from a little one. And I didn't even have to beg, they were completely voluntary.

More of the same

We should look for inspiration here, where mayors have their priorities right.