Moby-Dick™

Leben mit Herman Melville

München am Meer XII: Childhood Winter’s End

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Update zu To sail you home,
Golddublone für mich!
und What I Heard about the Apple Barrel:

Boys get discovered as winter melts,
Flowers competing for the sun.
Years go by and I’m here still waiting,
Withering where some snowman was.
Mirror, mirror, where’s the crystal palace?
But I only can see myself
Skating around the truth who I am
But I know dad, the ice is getting thin.

When you gonna make up your mind?
When you gonna love you as much as I do?

Tori Amos: Winter, in: Little Earthquakes, published in the USA on February 25, 1992.

Why tell the whole? The blows of the basement hammer every day grew more and more between; and each blow every day grew fainter than the last; the wife sat frozen at the window, with tearless eyes, glitteringly gazing into the weeping faces of her children; the bellows fell; the forge choked up with cinders; the house was sold; the mother dived down into the long church-yard grass; her children twice followed her thither; and the houseless, familyless old man staggered off a vagabond in crape; his every woe unreverenced; his grey head a scorn to flaxen curls!

Chapter CXII: The Blacksmith.

Now, as it shortly turned out, what made this incident of the Rachel‘s the more melancholy, was the circumstance, that not only was one of the Captain’s sons among the number of the missing boat’s crew; but among the number of the other boat’s crews, at the same time, but on the other hand, separated from the ship during the dark vicissitudes of the chase, there had been still another son; as that for a time, the wretched father was plunged to the bottom of the cruellest perplexity; which was only solved for him by his chief mate’s instinctively adopting the ordinary procedure of a whale-ship in such emergencies, that is, when placed between jeopardized but divided boats, always to pick up the majority first. […]

But the captain, for some unknown constitutional reason, had refrained from mentioning all this, and not till forced to it by Ahab’s iciness did he allude to his one yet missing boy; a little lad, but twelve years old, whose father with the earnest but unmisgiving hardihood of a Nantucketer’s paternal love, had thus early sought to initiate him in the perils and wonders of a vocation almost immemorially the destiny of all his race. Nor does it unfrequently occur, that Nantucket captains will send a son of such tender age away from them, for a protracted three or four years’ voyage in some other ship than their own; so that their first knowledge of a whaleman’s career shall be unenervated by any chance display of a father’s natural but untimely partiality, or undue apprehensiveness and concern. […]

But by her still halting course and winding, woeful way, you plainly saw that this ship that so wept with spray, still remained without comfort. She was Rachel, weeping for her children, because they were not.

Chapter CXXVIII: The Pequod Meets The Rachel.

On the second day, a sail drew near, nearer, and picked me up at last. It was the devious-cruising Rachel, that in her retracing search after her missing children, only found another orphan.

Epilogue.

25. Februar 2010: Die Little Earthquakes von Rotschopf Tori Amos wird volljährig. Wir hatten schon viel Spaß miteinander.

Cover Tori Amos, Little Earthuquakes

Freundliche Begegnung:

“Hast seen the White Whale?”

“Aye, yesterday. Have ye seen a whale-boat adrift?”

Chapter CXXVIII: The Pequod Meets The Rachel:

Friendly Encounter bei mir im Hinterhof, 17. Februar 2010:

Freundliche Begegnung. Friendly Encounter

Written by Wolf

25. February 2010 at 12:01 am

Posted in Fiddler's Green

5 Responses

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  1. Und das Foto war wirklich nicht gestellt? ;)

    Hast du das neue Tori-Album zufällig schon gehört? Ich fand die letzten nicht soo toll und weiß nicht so recht. Lieber noch mal LE auflegen?

    F.

    25. February 2010 at 9:27 pm

  2. Das Foto, ich hätte es fast im Text dazubetont, ist wirklich und wahrhaftig nicht gestellt, sondern hat sich so am Sandkasten im Hinterhof formiert und tagelang gehalten. Die zarte Schneedecke hätte ich auch nicht zurechtzuckern wollen :o)

    Ich hab noch nicht mal die vorletzte Tori gehört. Die “Beekeeper” war noch okay, bei der “American Doll Posse” hätte ich nur noch eine Form von Loyalität demonstriert. Die demonstriert mir doch auch nix .ò) Auf allen CDs vorher gibt’s aber mindestens zwei Lieder, für die man sie nie wieder missen möchte.

    Die “Little Earthquakes” starrt übrigens noch vor Anspielungen auf ihren Kumpel Neil Gaiman. Die exegetische Schnitzeljagd danach müsste immer noch laufen.

    Wolf

    25. February 2010 at 10:41 pm

  3. Dann war das ja ein wahrhaft schicksalshafter Fund.

    Exegese spare ich mir bei Tori. Das ist mir zu unsinnlich. ;)
    Die letzte wirklich Gute war Scarlet’s Walk, finde ich. Und die hat auch schon ein paar Anläufe gebraucht. Mit Beekeeper bin ich immer noch nicht warm geworden. Die orange knickers werfen mich jedes Mal raus. Absolut überflüssiger Song. ;)

    F.

    27. February 2010 at 7:37 pm

  4. Stimmt, auf der “Beekeeper” fehlen schon die echten Ohrwürmer — was man allein daran merkt, dass mir zu “Orange Knickers” nicht mal ungestützt ein Sound einfällt. “Scarlets Walk” war wenigstens noch in Aufmachung und Gesamtkonzept schön rund, was einen von preisbewussten Downloads abhalten kann .ò)

    Tss, an Her Goddess rummäkeln. Was werden wir uns nächstes rausnehmen? “Tom Waits wird auch nicht jünger”? :o)

    Wolf

    28. February 2010 at 2:34 pm


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