(no subject)
How rubbish is Google Books? Very rubbish says Geoff Nunberg. To quote one of several examples:The first ten hits for Leaves of Grass are variously classified as "Poetry," "Juvenile Nonfiction," "Fiction," "Literary Criticism," "Biography & Autobiography," and mystifyingly, "Counterfeits and Counterfeiting."
Saw Ivo Pogorelich tonight, the Belgrade-born pianist.
Chopin - Nocturne Op 62 No 2 in E
Chopin - Sonata Op 58 in B minor
Liszt - Mephisto Waltz No 1
Sibelius - Valse Triste
Ravel - Gaspard de la Nuit
Astonishing virtuosity (many people seem to reckon him a genius); according to Wikipedia, Gaspard de la Nuit is the hardest work in the mainstream piano repertoire, and he produced an insane but brilliant range of keyboard banging. Equally, the Chopin Nocturne was very gentle and lyrical.
Poetry corner:I once loved.
I thought I would be loved,
But I wasn't loved.
I wasn't loved for the only reason that matters--
It was not to be.
I unbuttoned my white gloves and stripped each off.
I set aside my gold-knobbed cane.
I picked up this pen...
And thought how many other men
Had smelled the rose in the bud vase
And lifted a fountain pen,
And lifted a mountain...
And put the shotgun in their mouth,
And noticed that their hunting dog was pointing.
Homage to Pessoa by Frederick Seidel
Saw Ivo Pogorelich tonight, the Belgrade-born pianist.
Chopin - Nocturne Op 62 No 2 in E
Chopin - Sonata Op 58 in B minor
Liszt - Mephisto Waltz No 1
Sibelius - Valse Triste
Ravel - Gaspard de la Nuit
Astonishing virtuosity (many people seem to reckon him a genius); according to Wikipedia, Gaspard de la Nuit is the hardest work in the mainstream piano repertoire, and he produced an insane but brilliant range of keyboard banging. Equally, the Chopin Nocturne was very gentle and lyrical.
Poetry corner:I once loved.
I thought I would be loved,
But I wasn't loved.
I wasn't loved for the only reason that matters--
It was not to be.
I unbuttoned my white gloves and stripped each off.
I set aside my gold-knobbed cane.
I picked up this pen...
And thought how many other men
Had smelled the rose in the bud vase
And lifted a fountain pen,
And lifted a mountain...
And put the shotgun in their mouth,
And noticed that their hunting dog was pointing.
Homage to Pessoa by Frederick Seidel