תהילים פרק א

תהילים פרק א

Tehillim- Book One

Psalm One

א

אַשְׁרֵי הָאִישׁ-- אֲשֶׁר לֹא הָלַךְ, בַּעֲצַת רְשָׁעִים

1. ash.rei-ha.ish a.sher lo ha.lakh ba.a.tsat re.sha.im

וּבְדֶרֶךְ חַטָּאִים, לֹא עָמָד, וּבְמוֹשַׁב לֵצִים, לֹא יָשָׁב

u.ve.de.rekh kha.ta.im lo a.mad u.ve.mo.o.shav le.tsim lo ya.shav:

ב

כִּי אִם בְּתוֹרַת יְהוָה, חֶפְצוֹ; וּבְתוֹרָתוֹ יֶהְגֶּה, יוֹמָם וָלָיְלָה

2. ki im-be.to.rat a.do.nai khef.tso u.ve.to.ra.to yeh.ge yo.mam va.lai.la:

ג

וְהָיָה-- כְּעֵץ, שָׁתוּל עַל-פַּלְגֵי-מָיִם

3. ve.ha.ya ke.ets sha.tul al-pal.gei ma.yim

אֲשֶׁר פִּרְיוֹ, יִתֵּן בְּעִתּוֹ--וְעָלֵהוּ לֹא-יִבּוֹל; וְכֹל אֲשֶׁר-יַעֲשֶׂה יַצְלִיחַ

a.sher pir.yo yi.ten be.i.to ve.a.le.hu lo yi.bol ve.khol a.sher-ya.a.se yats.li.akh:

ד

לֹא-כֵן הָרְשָׁעִים: כִּי אִם-כַּמֹּץ, אֲשֶׁר-תִּדְּפֶנּוּ רוּחַ

4. lo-khen har.sha.im ki im-ka.mots a.sher-tid.fe.nu ru.akh:

ה

עַל-כֵּן, לֹא-יָקֻמוּ רְשָׁעִים--בַּמִּשְׁפָּט; וְחַטָּאִים, בַּעֲדַת צַדִּיקִים

5. al-ken lo-ya.ku.mu re.sha.im ba.mish.pat ve.kha.ta.im ba.a.dat tsa.di.kim:

ו

כִּי-יוֹדֵעַ יְהוָה, דֶּרֶךְ צַדִּיקִים; וְדֶרֶךְ רְשָׁעִים תֹּאבֵד

6. ki-yo.de.a ye.ho.va de.rekh tsa.di.kim ve.de.rekh re.sha.im to.ved:

1 How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,

Nor stand in the path of sinners,

Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!

2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD,

And in His law he meditates day and night.

3 He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,

Which yields its fruit in its season

And its leaf does not wither;

And in whatever he does, he prospers.

4 The wicked are not so,

But they are like chaff which the wind drives away.

5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,

Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

6 For the LORD knows the way of the righteous,

But the way of the wicked will perish.

Hairy Tails according to Grime

Disclaimer: Not for the Literal-minded, Fairy-tale illiterate and the Pro-Copyrightists.

Once upon a time, The Big Bad Wolf, Goldilocks and The Three Bears, while walking through the woods one day, came upon a little reunion of sorts by the Troll Bridge. The Pied Piper, Puss in Boots (pest control rivals), Snow White and Cinderella (having time out from balls, frisbees and other flying objects) were having a small celebration. Rapunzel was present as well. She had faithfully stuck to TallTower[tm] for many years now, but decided she needed a change of Perspective[tm], an otherwise very respectable line of shades. The Three Blind Mice, Tom Thumb and Thumbelina were nearby too, enjoying their mini party under the shade of the mushroom patch. Under an ancient ordinace protecting the disabled, the blind mice were spared by Piper and Puss, and they took their rights very seriously.

They were all celebrating the birthday of the Frog Prince. Presently, they'd just presented him a jar of the very best aged vintage flies. The party was catered courtesy of Dumpty Inc., purveyors of scrambly, creme brulee and french toast, the best in Enchanted Woods, Dark Forest and some say Thousand Acre Woods. Usually potluck sufficed, but this time, the Leprechauns were busy attending the annual CareBear trade show promoting their latest boutique rainbow designs that came with a complimentary pot of gold to go.

Wolf, hungry from the rigorous walk with Goldilocks and The Three Bears, sniffed the air greedily. Suddenly, he coughed, sneezed and straightened up with a pained expression.

"Fee Fai Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an English man!" Said the Big Bad Wolf in disgust. Nobody liked Wolf for his bad manners, but to be fair, Pied Piper did smell noxious after months without a decent shower; it didn't take a canine nose to realize that. Poor Piper had been busy handling pest problems all summer, and one does pick up a scent from handling one too many rodents.

"Ach, nein, vart Aye am noot Englische," denounced The Pied Piper with a thick Bavarian accent, "I'm von Hamlyn! You haf got ze wrong guy, ja?"

In a providential move (Fairy Godmother?), Mrs Robin Hood AKA Little Red Riding arrived with a picnic basket, diffusing the tension in the air you could cut with a knife.

"Gingerbread, hunny and porridge anyone?"

Goldilocks, the Three Bears and the Big Bad Wolf immediately looked up, licking their chops; It was too good to be true! The Bears were delirious at the mention of hunny, Gingerbread was the Big Bad Wolf's next favouritest food after Little Lamb and Little Pigs, while Goldilocks happened to be some sort of self-claimed porridge connoiseur and bed tester. Rapunzel, having changed Perspective, was determined to explore new fashion tastes.

"Ouch! Too hot!" said Goldilocks after tasting the first bowl of porridge fresh from a thermos, while the rest helped themselves to the rest of the basket.

"Eww, that's too cold. And it tastes kinda fermented to me too. I'm a teetotaler, you know." exclaimed Rapunzel primly, as she tried the second bowl that was in the pot, nine days old, which was exactly when Mrs Hood set off. It had taken quite a while for her to find the party, despite careful traveling instructions from Hansel and Gretel.

Old Hansel and Gretel were of course, the most famous explorers in the wood, having learnt first-rate trekking skills from Jack, whose mother habitually tossed beans around. That gets to you after living too long in a shoe with too many children, not knowing what to do. This was all before Jack and Jill sadly broke their crowns trying to fill some water from Wishing Well. You'd be wishing well too, afterall, if the King's men and horses couldn't put your crown back together again. In the end, they had to enlist the help of the Seven Dwarves and their dental cement to have those crowns fixed.

Just as Rapunzel was about to taste the third bowl, she heard a snarly voice yapping, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" It was Wolf, telling her to chill. Wolf was never approving of manners. Now, Rapunzel was a very prim and proper girl. Her stepped-sisters (spine problems) and Mother Goose brought her up as straight laced as lace could be straight. She could also crochet fairly well, earning her keep by selling knittings to the Shoemaker's Elves. You see, they had a sort of barter economy going on. Her ware was more sought after than Rumpelstilkskin's gold-threaded embroidery at any rate.

"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!" decried Rapunzel indignantly, now not a pleasant sight at all. She had a 5 o'clock shadow she was pretty proud of.

"Then I'll huff and I'll puff and blow YourHouse[tm] in!", referring to her delicate sunday hat.

"No, no, please don't!" chorused the rest of the guests. "You've had too much gingerbread! You need some mints!"

Ignoring their pleas, Wolf huffed and puffed like Thomas the Train. The guests scrambled for cover. As fumes settled, everyone coughed and wheezed, sneezed and cleared their throats, and wiped their bleary, rheumy eyes and runny noses.

"What big eyes you have grandma" observed Snow White, who was unfortunately related to Wolf, by way of Beauty and the Beast, Pinocchio and Little Mermaid. Hers was a complicated family filled with intrigue and confused identities, with lots of nooks and crannies filled with crooks and nannies. Wolf was evidently quite blown by the puffing and huffing.

"All the better to see you with!", Wolf replied wryly. Everyone was terribly upset at Wolf's belligerence and repugnance. The three blind mice took that last remark personally. They decided to sue Wolf for discrimination against the sight-impaired.

Not even Rapunzel's boutique shades can save Wolf now...

Say this ALOUD ten times!

more nonsensical seussly rubbish from the wee hours

Sorry, shy sallow shoeshine sirrah! Same cerebral serene surreal serendipity serenades sweet sorrow celebrity surreptitiously sipping sour syrah. Shush!

(i.e. We apologize, oh bashful yellow boot-polishing fellow! The identical unreal mental tranquil unsought beauty lulls a pleasant sad personage secretly drinking acerbic wine. Quiet!)

Need a long holiday...

excerpts from "A Long-expected Party", Book One, The Fellowship of the Ring
JRR Tolkien.

Inside Bag End, Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting at the open window of a small room looking out west on to the garden. The late afternoon was bright and peaceful. The flowers glowed red and golden: snap-dragons and sunflowers, and nasturtians trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in at the round windows.

'How bright your garden looks!' said Gandalf.
'Yes,' said Bilbo. 'I am very fond indeed of it, and of all the dear old Shire; but I think I need a holiday.'
'You mean to go on with your plan then?'
'I do. I made up my mind months ago, and I haven't changed it.'
'Very well. Its no good saying anymore. Stick to your plan- your whole plan, mind- and I hope it will turn out for the best, for you, and for all of us.'
'I hope so. Anyway I mean to enjoy myself on Thursday, and have my little joke.'
'Who will laugh, I wonder?' said Gandalf, shaking his head.
'We shall see,' said Bilbo...

...'And would spoil my joke. You are an interfering old busybody,' laughed Bilbo, 'but I expect you know best, as usual.'
'I do- when I know anything. But I don't feel too sure about this whole affair. It has now come to the final point. You have had your joke, and alarmed or offended most of your relations, and given the whole Shire something to talk about for nine days, or ninety-nine more likely. Are you going any further?'
'Yes, I am. I feel I need a holiday, a very long holiday, as I have told you before. Probably a permanent holiday: I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I don't mean to, and I have made all arrangements.
'I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed!' he snorted. 'Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or something.'

Gandalf looked curiously and closely at him. 'No, it does not seem right,' he said thoughtfully. 'No, after all I believe your plan is probably the best.'

'Well, I've made up my mind, anyway. I want to see mountains again, Gandalf- mountains; and then find somewhere where I can rest. In peace and quiet, without a lot of relatives prying around, and a string of confounded visitors hanging on the bell. I might find somewhere where I can finish my book. I have thought of a nice ending for it: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.'

Gandalf laughed. 'I hope he will. But nobody will read the book, however it ends.'

The Road goes ever on and on
   Down from the door where it began.
Nor far ahead the Road has gone,
   And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
   Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
   And wither then? I cannot say.

HOLY SONNETS.

X.
John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Heart of the Heavens

Sheila Davidson and Emily Davidson

Lonely desert below
Barren soil 'neath the sky
Only death in the wind
Every echo is dry
Hills and valleys on fire
Mere memories of life
Parched and thirsty by day
No relief in the night

Hunger cries in the heart
Groanings reach up touching heaven
Buried hopes start to tremble and breath again
Deep longing is heard, all waiting will cease
For the Heart of the heavens is love

They sky smiles on the earth
Releases living rains
Great clouds of mercy empty
One gives, one gains
And both are satisfied, the desert and the sky
For the Heart of the heavens is love

Such tears of grace pour
Streams swell into a river
Wonder of divine reflection
The needy and the Giver
And both are satisfied, the desert and the sky
For the Heart of the heavens
The God of the heavens
For the heart of the heavens is love

Fun Facts from my Research

I'm three weeks left to D-day... and H-hour...

in the mean time, did you know

1. our ears actually hear sound in a manner similar to fourier transform? we hear sound by breaking them down into frequency components, not as waves.

2. We have all been cheated- the chromatic scale is a sham; all western music (classical, pop, rock, whatever) is guilty. It is merely a jumble of compromised tunings, arbitrarily shared log-wise 12 times an octave. If we were to consider pure intervals (in pure mathematical relation), 12 sets of stacked perfect 5ths (3:2 frequency ratio) over 7 octaves would land us back to the beginning note, but overshoots by 1.3643265%... this is called the comma of pythagoras (derived below) which western tuning has tried to obliterate by compromise.


3. Pianos are always purposely tuned out of tune. The frequency ratios of octaves (doh-doh') is always larger than 2 to 1 (as high as 2.025 to 1). The octaves in a piano HAVE to be stretched (rather than to be in exact harmonic multiples) because having real strings with stiffness, the harmonic partials are slightly larger than they ought to be, and hence to avoid beating (when in octaves or 5ths), the octave tunings are stretched.

In a bizzare turn of events, this stretched octaves in real systems combined with the overshoot compromise ("comma of phythagoras" above) means the problems of the compromise is amplified.

4. Happilly, an "accurately" tuned piano actually sounds off, and colorless. (think cheap casiotone keyboard sound) We need the off-ness in tuning and high frequency beats and phase interactions for a sound to be musically pleasant.

5. it is IMPOSSIBLE to tune anything perfectly- because our ear/mind hears tuning as beats, the more in tune something is, the longer it takes to tell that its in tune; it would take an infinite amount of time to tell something is tuned perfectly. This is a consequence of heisenberg's uncertainty principle.

6. in many real musical string systems, the presence of the plectrum or hammer serves as a sort of band-pass filter. They cut off high-frequencies because of their shape (curve, not angular), as well offering some form of damping for high-frequency modes. (piano hammers pull away from the string NOT because of its mechanism, but rather, they bounce OFF reflected waves on the string, in the process damping energy from high-frequency modes, just because they reflect earlier)

7. I just realized to my slight horror, that among my sources, I have TWO authors sharing the same name- H. Fletcher, and N.H. Fletcher. The latter (Neville Horner) is a physicist who is still very much alive and kicking from Australia, while the earlier (Harvey) is a physicist from Utah that passed away in 1981. Amazingly, both are giants in physics, and both dabbled heavily with acoustics, and both have written extensively on the phenomena of inharmonicity. It was extremely befuddling to find extensive literature from Fletcher all the way through 1950's up to 2002... It seemed like it was ONE really really powerful and impressive fella, who's lived a really LONG and productive life. Although relieved to discover its two very different people, its still amazing. The living Fletcher has written an award winning book on the physics of musical instruments, and in it, he quotes extensively from the deceased Fletcher. It must be a strange feeling to do that.

8. the D in D-day for the normandy landing has no meaning- its merely an assigned term to denote the Unknown but Certain moment something happens, just as it happens at H-hour. (by extension M-minute and S-seconds?)