Ma Cher Pauline...

After much thought, I have chosen to share my meditation on Pauline Marois with the world.  

First she plucks us of our rights.

Then we remind her of who and what she is.

I'm not sure how La Marseillaise found its way into the mix.  Are you Pauline?

(Not that it much matters since so few read my lonely little blog anyway.)

For those who may not know, Alouette is a song about a sweet lark having its feathers plucked out, bit by bit, as Pauline proposes to do with the rights of the people of Quebec.  A lovely children's song.
Here is a translation.

  Lark, nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark
I will pluck you
I will pluck you the head
I will pluck you the head
And the head, and the head Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Lark,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you
I will pluck you the nose
I will pluck you the nose
And the nose, and the nose Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Lark,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you
I will pluck you the eyes
I will pluck you the eyes
And the eyes, and the eyes Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Lark,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you
I will pluck you the neck
I will pluck you the neck
And the neck, and the neck Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Lark,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you
I will pluck you the wings
I will pluck you the wings
And the wings, and the wings Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you Lark,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you
Alouette, nice Alouette Lark
I will pluck you
I will pluck you the back
I will pluck you the back
And the back, and the back Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark
I will pluck you Lark,
nice Alouette Lark
I will pluck you Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark
I will pluck you
I will pluck you the legs
I will pluck you the legs
And the legs, and the legs Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark
I will pluck you Lark,
nice Alouette Lark
I will pluck you Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you
I will pluck you the tail
I will pluck you the tail
And the tail, and the tail Alouette,
Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette,
nice Alouette Lark I will pluck you

Read more: Children - Alouette (english Translation) Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

DESTINY: NO SHEEP NEED APPLY

The sound needs more work.  I know.  A couple of you wanted to see it now, so here it is nin the director's preliminary cut.

With Our Brothers, We Will Share

I have had a week now to think about the killings in Wisconsin and I still have nothing profound or moving to say, only the image of  Bhenji Paramjit Kaur matha teking to Shri Guru Granth Sahib ji and rising to find herself at the feet of Satguru.

We have six new shaheeds.  When we mourn, we do not mourn for them.  They died well and they are fine.  We mourn instead for ourselves who have lost their sweet presence on our planet and in our lives.

The futility of these needless killings brings to mind a song from an old 1970s movie, Billy Jack.  We Sikhs are, after all, willing to freely give what we have.

"With our brothers we will share

All the secrets of our mountain, 

All the treasures buried there. 

Those of my generation will probably remember it.  I hope the rest of you listen and understand its message 



For those unfamiliar with the movie, I should explain that the man being arrested in the video is the hero who has been unjustly accused and the people standing and raising their fists in salute are his supporters, many of them Native American children from the school he was trying to save.  .

Nanak naam chardi kala
Tere bhane sarbat da bhala

(Inter) National Brotherhood(/Sisterhood) Week

This is a song by the USA's master parodist, Tom Lehrer. This song needs an introduction by me, as well as Tom's intro.

First let me pontificate a bit, then listen to the song.

National Brotherhood Week is now National Brotherhood/Sisterhood Week to reflect, I suppose, the changing social climate.  I think National Siblinghood Week would be better, saving a total of three syllables that could be used more profitably elsewhere.    According the Wikipedia, the authoritative source of just about everything except for school papers, it is held on the third week of February.  (February, of course, is Black History Month.)  I guess it came and went without much, if any, notice this year.

I sort of wonder what the people behind it, National Conference for Community and Justice, expect to accomplish?  Of course, they want us all to realise that we are sisters and brothers (or brothers and sisters) and end all our prejudices based on race, colour, creed, socioeconomic class and country of national origin.  I think the prejudice based on gender, disability and sexual orientation must have been added in recent years.  If India had such a week, caste would have to be included.  Although my high caste friends assure me that caste is no longer relevant in India, my friends who are not high caste assure me otherwise.  Who should I believe?  I won't get into such oddities as manual scavenging here;  I don't want to make you uncomfortable, now, do I?

I think very little is accomplished by it personally.  Those who consider themselves unprejudiced will give each other  self-congratulatory slaps on the back, not understanding or not willing to admit or not caring  that we all have nasty prejudices lurking in us and rooting them out would be more profitable than denying them.  The bigots will remain bigots and, I suspect, ignore the whole thing, as it seems the entire country (USA) does every year except, I suspect a few kids in liberal and Montessori Schools.

My prejudices?  I was hoping you wouldn't ask.  I find racial and ethnic differences more interesting than distasteful.  I tend to be more prejudiced against those on top than those on the bottom, you know, the 1%, but that's socially acceptable, so I suppose it doesn't count.  Stupid people.  I find them insufferable.  I know they can't help being stupid, but I dislike them and I know that isn't very nice.

A bit of explanation for my readers from countries outside of North America and those too young to remember what these references are.

Sheriff Clark was Sheriff Jim Clark of Selma, Alabama, the quintessential segregationist, [Racial segregation, also called Jim Crow,  was the USA form of apartheid enshrined in the laws of the South.  The Northerners were less honest and pretended that they believed in equality of the races, ignoring the squalid ghettoes of the Northern cities. All segregation laws have either been repealed or declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court.]   Sheriff Clark died, unrepentant,  in 2007.
Lena Horne was a great Black (now African American) singer, actress. dancer and activist, among other things.  She died in 2010.

I think everyone should be able to follow the rest of the song.

For those of you in other countries (mostly India, among my readers), feel free to replace Mr. Lehrer's words with your own local prejudices in place of the U S of A ones as written.

Tom Lehrer's Introduction:

One week of every year is designated National Brotherhood Week. This is just one of many such weeks honoring various worthy causes...During National Brotherhood Week various special events are arranged to drive home the message of brotherhood. This year, for example, on the first day of the week Malcolm X was killed which gives you an idea of how effective the whole thing is. I'm sure we all agree that we ought to love one another and I know there are people in the world that do not love their fellow human beings and I hate people like that. Here's a song about National Brotherhood Week.

THE SONG:
Oh, the white folks hate the black folks,
And the black folks hate the white folks.
To hate all but the right folks
Is an old established rule.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,
Lena Horne and Sheriff Clarke are dancing cheek to cheek.
It's fun to eulogize
The people you despise,
As long as you don't let 'em in your school.

Oh, the poor folks hate the rich folks,
And the rich folks hate the poor folks.
All of my folks hate all of your folks,
It's American as apple pie.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,
New Yorkers love the Puerto Ricans 'cause it's very chic.
Step up and shake the hand
Of someone you can't stand.
You can tolerate him if you try.

Oh, the Protestants hate the Catholics,
And the Catholics hate the Protestants,
And the Hindus hate the Moslems,
And everybody hates the Jews.

But during National Brotherhood Week, National Brotherhood Week,
It's National Everyone-smile-at-one-another-hood Week.
Be nice to people who
Are inferior to you.
It's only for a week, so have no fear.
Be grateful that it doesn't last all year!
***********************************************************************************




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAOwYDlEQXo&feature=related

References


Sheriff Jim Clark:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Clark_%28sheriff%29

Lena Horne:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lena_Horne

Tom Lehrer:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Lehrer

Segregation:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Racial_segregation_in_the_United_States

 National Conference for Community and Justice:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Conference_for_Community_and_Justice

I AM GRIZABELLA

Some time ago, I promised my friend, Harry, that I would tell him the story of me as Grizabella.  With my usual humility, I am thinking that my other reader might like to hear the story, as well.

It is well-known to everyone who knows me that I cannot sing.  I do not use the word "cannot" lightly.  I have tried.  I nearly drove 3 voice teachers to suicide with my attempts before I decided to give the music world a break, and took up playing the guitar while others sang.

When a small group of us decided we wanted to do the musical, Cats, there were some difficulties,  the first being that this was in 1983 and Cats  was relatively new, which caused two problems.

1. There was no script available to us
2. The copyright was jealously guarded

The first wasn't too difficult.  Since it was all sung, we simply got the original Broadway  recording which - HALLELUJAH! - included all the lyrics.   The second simply couldn't be overcome, so we did what any good Jellicle cats would do and became what today would be called "pirates."   No big deal, really, as we intended only a single private performance.

Those two difficulties overcome, we next turned to casting.  I assumed I would work on props and run around as a stray extra Jellicle cat.  [To learn about Jellicle cats, go here.  Or if you prefer the German version, here]  After all, almost all of the spoken lines are sung.   And I couldn't carry a tune if the fate of the universe hung on my doing so.

Mais non!   It was almost unanimously (I abstained) decided that I absolutely must be Grizabella.  I pointed out that the climax of the whole play was when Grizabella sings - emphasize SINGS - Memory , then  demonstrated by "singing" the opening bars...

Memory

All alone in the moooooonlight

After the company removed their hands from their ears, they still insisted we'd have to find a way.  I refused lip-synching, that is more dishonest than pirating.  Anyway, that would be funny and this is a very serious, moving moment, one of the most poignant scenes in all of theatre.  

We did sort of work it out.  It was decided that I would recite the words with the instrumental version playing in the background.  As a compromise, not to let our audience down, we would do an encore of Memory sung by the whole cast, while I pantomimed Grizabella's part.  I suppose that I should have steadfastly refused a part I was clearly incompetent to play, but this was Grizabella in Cats, the leading role in a Broadway smash hit.  Our production was a bit off-Broadway, of course, and only a chosen few would ever even know it was ever done, but still, how could I possibly find the necessary humility to turn it down?  I really didn't try too hard.  I had my own ideas about Grizabella and grabbed the opportunity to try them out.

  This is how Grizabella was played in London and on Broadway. 

“Like a flower as the dawn is breaking

The memory is fading.”

Grizabella has fallen to the ground, seemingly defeated; she struggles to her feet, stands up, and sings the final lines of Memory :

 Touch me

It's so easy to leave me

All alone with the memory of my days in the sun.

If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is

Look, a new day has begun 

 

Grizabella belts out "Touch me" with everything she can muster, then considers her present situation and makes a promise to the other cats. For her and perhaps for all the Jellicles, it's a new day.

Then she extends her arm behind her, not daring to look at the other cats, desperately hoping that at least one of them will overcome their distaste and actually touch her. Of course, one of them does, then another and another, and she is welcomed back into the Jellicle community, sort of. She is then chosen by the Patriarch of the Jellicles to be reborn and “come back to a different Jellicle life.” All cheer as she rises up past the Heaviside layer. It has always been unclear to me whether the other cats are happy that she has another chance or are just relieved to be rid of her.

Now the stage has been set and we get to the meat of the story.

During rehearsals, I more or less portrayed her the usual way, but I had my own idea about how I thought she ought to be played, which I saved as a surprise to all, including my fellow thespians. I performed exactly as we had rehearsed until it came time to humbly extend my hand behind me. Instead, I turned and glared directly at the other cats and extended my hand for a handshake. The other cats were all in total confusion and I waited until the one who was supposed to gingerly touch me slowly and with great hesitation approached me. When she was almost there, I saw the lightbulb go on in her eyes. She understood exactly what I was doing, who my Grizabella represented.   She stuck out her hand, and we heartily shook hands.   Except for Old Deuteronomy, the other cats, still a bit mystified, approached me rather gingerly – and only after shaking Grizabella's (my) hand did they understand what happiness is.   At the end Old Deuteronomy, played by my husband, approached me and when I held out my hand to him, fell  at my feet. Now there's a man who knows what happiness is.   Of course, me being me, I made a kicking motion at him and he scrambled to his feet. Old Deuteronomy (him) put his arm around Grizabella (me) and led her to the place where she could go up, up, up to be reborn.  (Of course, my  Grizabella - and all the Jellicles along with her - had already been reborn without any mystical nonsense, but even so, the show must go on.)     

 

****************************************************************
[The first video won't play in "my country," so I am adding in this performance by a group of high school actors.  They don't have the fancy props and all, so they need to rely only on talent and preparation.   They do one helluva good job.]
****************************************************************





Not a dry eye in the house, including his and mine.

Of course, we didn't have a huge tire or a crane to lift me up. He led me to a ladder draped with silk chunnis and nicely decorated with glitter stars and encouraged me to climb it. At that point, it was unclear to both of us whether it was Grizabella and Old Deuteronomy , or my husband and myself. I managed to climb it and stand triumphant at the top, looking less like a cat and more like a statue of Nike the goddess of victory. At least that is how I felt.

The Goddess of Victory

The mystical divinity of unashamed felinity
Round the cathedral rang 'Vivat'
Life to the everlasting cat

GRIZABELLA and THE DEATH OF A SHAHEED

(He would have been 41 today.)

Brilliant!  Brilliant!  Brilliant!!  I have read many comparisons and opinions about Elaine Paige's interpretation of Grizabella  and that of Betty Buckley as Grizabella.

First, please listen to Ms. Paige's performance.


Elaine's Grizabella is sad, bedraggled, defeated, completely down and out.  I feel pity for her and her plight.  Her singing is exquisite and moving in its beauty. I cannot but feel very sorry for her pathetic Grizabella, the poor, down-trodden former glamour cat.   I am happy to see her lifted out of her tragic existence and chosen to be reborn.  It is a stellar performance.

Now, please listen to Betty Buckley as Grizabella the Glamour Cat.




Betty  Buckley's Grizabella, the second performance you just listened to,  inevitably moves me to tears. She is feeling, living, every emotion, all the pain, the despair that she refuses to give in to, clinging to that last hope, that last bit of dignity. I feel no pity for her Grizabella.  Compassion, perhaps, or empathy.  This Grizabella is down about as low as it is possible to go and yet she retains her pride and dignity as a cat must; she is not defeated. I don't know who is the better singer, but this performance is Grizabella to me.  This is the embodiment of artistic integrity.

 I have known a very few people like this in my days as a social activist.  These are the people I most respect and admire, the ones who have every logical reason to give up, to accept whatever crap life hands them, to lose all hope and curl up in a sad, little, pathetic ball and die...but are somehow able to reach inside and pull out that strength and dignity  to demand - not beg -

"Touch me!"

You can turn away if you choose, but there is a promise here that is often overlooked or misunderstood:

"If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is."

I have expressed my admiration of the potential greatness of our species many times.  I don't get that admiration from looking at the easy, showy, obvious achievements that others seem to so much admire.  Yes, the big buildings and spaceships and the superhighways are all impressive, but that is not where our true greatness lies.

Our true greatness comes from overcoming adversity, refusing to accept others' negative judgments of us, having the strength and courage  to stand up and scream to the whole social structure:

"Go to bloody hell, you cannot keep me down.  

You can kill me, but you cannot defeat me. "

My admiration is of these generally unsung, unknown valiant souls who keep their integrity and their dignity in the face of all adversity and mistreatment.  Not humiliation.  Such people cannot be humiliated, since only those who consent can be humiliated.  These will never consent. I pray that I am someday found worthy to be included in their number. They are my examples.  They are my heroes.  They are my teachers.

People who know me and know of my life have often asked me  where I got the strength and inspiration to keep going after the horrendous things that I have been through.  Now you know.

"Look!  A new day has begun..."

PHOTOSHOP CS 5.1 and the HIPPIES

I really was having trouble describing what I was doing, so I put it in this video.  The techniques really have nothing to do with hippies or Scott Mackenzie or even 1968, but the brushes fit well into that very strange era.

I was not a hippie.  My life at that time was filled with weightier matters and I was far too political to be a hippie.  Nonetheless, I really liked the hippies.  I didn't much like their drugs and the refusal of some of them to bathe, and their sexual antics frankly embarrassed me, but they seemed to be the embodiment of a kind of freedom that has always attracted me, a sort of benevolent anarchy overflowing with chardi kala.  (OK, I know the reality was not quite that pretty, but it was 44 years ago and time has blurred the edges, as time should.) 

And the music!  I may have turned away from the sex and drugs (at least in the literal sense), but the rock 'n' roll was irresistible.  Even today, decades later, the music remains.  

Lt. Pike

My participation in the "Pepper-Spraying-Cop meme.  Lt. John Pike...Well, take a look:

That is the short version of what actually happened.Lest I am acused of bias, here is one report of the long vision:

Police pepper spraying and arresting students at UC Davis from Mary K. Johnson on Vimeo.

OK. The meme consists of Lt. Pike

pepper spraying unlikely people and other living things and sometimes inanimate objects.  My contributions: 

Pike Sprays Pike

Lt. Pike sprays my profile guy

Even Happy Cat isn't safe!

I often go off on a tangent, but I don't expect a faceful of pepper spray

  

ASHA RAP

LYRICS
Asha, my friend
is a wonderful gurl
Sharp as a tack, 
Sweet as a pearl.
Open the window
And her flag unfurled
Will throw peace upon
The unwary world
Hair laughingly curled
Goodwill wil be hurled
Jade Buddha will smile
We'll laugh all the while...
'Cause Asha, my friend, 
Is a wonderful gurl.

Pearls are sweet
But not good to eat , 
Like a turnip or beet
Or pickled pig's feet.
(But I don't eat meat.)
So sit on a seat
And don't try to cheat
Enjoy the heat
At Jade Buddha's feet
'Cause Asha my friend
Is wonderfully neat
And believes in World Peat.
(OK World Peace, but that doesn't rhyme.)
And peat is good stuff, too.)

Out of ideas but not out of rhyme
Chardi kala means
Let's have a good time
And we won't even have
To eat that darned pearl
And Asha my friend's
Still a wonderful gurl.. 

From "The Kitteh Loleth Productions."


THAT ONE WORD YOU CAN'T QUITE GET IS "BODHISATTVA."  LOOK IT UP.

Reggae to Tibet - A Journey of Six Minutes

This piece measures about 7.5' X 3' ( that's 229 cm x 91 cm in the civilized world). I made it on 14 gauge interlock canvas using acrylic yarn. (I know that makes purists blanch, but it comes in so many pretty colors and it's cheap.) The frame is faux poIt took me several months of intermittent work to complete.

I would really like to add some reggae and some Tibetan music, if anyone has any of that without copyright issues that I could use for free.

I mean, "The Drums of War" is really pretty good, but it could be better. Speaking of which, the attribution:

FREE MUSIC FROM:
MUSIC4YOURVIDS.CO.UK

Truly Julie's Blues by Bob Lind

Bob Lind's music has been a part of my life since the 1960s. This has always been one of my favorites.

TRULY JULIE'S BLUES
Bob Lind

When you're thirsty and no one will fill your cup for you,
And your well-dressed friends don't want you on their street,
When you are so far down, the gutter looks like up to you,
I will still be kneeling at your feet,
I will still be kneeling at your feet.

When you can't remember where you left your laughter,
And you forget the definition of your name,
When your yesterday sets fire to your ever after,
I'll reach down and pull you from the flames,
I'll reach down and pull you from the flames.

When all the crippled children you give strength too,
Lay their crutches down and walk away,
And you realise that all their mothers hate you,
I'll be there to hear the things you say,
I'll be there to hear the things you say.

When at last your bitter problems all ignore you,
And you've come out clean, everything is done.
And you realise I've been through it all before you,
Come down and walk beside me in the sun,
Come down and walk beside me in the sun.

If you like this song, please visit Bob Lind's website at http://www.boblind.com/
You might also enjoy The Bob Lind Forum at http://www.boblind.com/board/viewforum.php?f=7

Mr. Lind graciously gave his permission for me to make and post this video.

L'Internationale

Marc Ogeret sings all six verses in the original French.  On screen lyrics in French and English.

The anthem of the workers, the socialists, the communists, the anarchists and the progressive movement sung as it was written by Eugène Pottier.

I first heard this wonderful recording of L'Internationale, the immortal song of the workers, on the channel of iwanttobelieve. I think the addition of on-screen lyrics and a reasonably good translation will help in the understanding and appreciation of the message that is being conveyed. I can find no sung translation that does justice to the power and the poetry of the original French. I have resisted the temptation of adding pictures so that the words can speak for themselves without distraction. It's worth googling on Marc Ogeret, though; he's pretty awesome-looking.

I was inspired to actually go to the work of putting this together now by the current Worldwide Workers' Rebellion of 2011. I know the definition of "worker" is being stretched to include all of the 99% of us who are not super rich financially. The more the merrier, I guess.

May we live to see the day when the sun will shine always.