Blues Etimología[editar] La frase the blues hace referencia a los blue devils (diablos azules o espíritus caídos), la depresión y la tristeza. Una de las primeras referencias a the blues puede encontrarse en la farsa Blue Devils, a farce in one act (1798)[1] de George Colman. Características principales[editar] Los géneros asociados al blues comparten un pequeño número de características similares, debido a que este género musical adopta su forma de las características personales de cada artista que lo interpreta.[5] Sin embargo, existen una serie de características que estaban presentes mucho antes de la creación del blues moderno. Los instrumentos de cuerda (los preferidos por los esclavos procedentes de las regiones musulmanas de África), estaban generalmente permitidos ya que los dueños de los esclavos consideraban que dichos instrumentos se asemejaban a otros instrumentos europeos, como el violín. Letras[editar] Del estilo al género[editar]
x Son House Lyrics, Death Letter Blues Lyrics by Son House. From Martin Scorsese: Best of the Blues. Hey, I solemnly swear, Lord, I raise my right hand That I'm goin' get me a woman, you get you another man I solemnly swear, Lord, I raise my right hand That I'm goin' get me a woman, you get you another man I got a letter this morning, how do you reckon it read? I grabbed my suitcase, I took off, up the road I got there, she was laying on the cooling board I grabbed my suitcase, I took on up the road I got there, she was laying on the cooling board Well, I walked up close, I looked down in her face Good old gal, you got to lay here till Judgment Day I walked up close, and I looked down in her face Yes, been a good old gal, got to lay here till Judgment Day Oh, my woman so black, she stays apart of this town Can't nothin' "go" when the poor girl is around My black mama stays apart of this town Oh, can't nothing "go" when the poor girl is around Comments
Sophie Cabot Black: Love Poem Love Poem Sophie Cabot Black Which cannot be written tries anyway— From one room to another, each time startled And does not want to hear of the already Passed through, the country of before. At each door poem believes itself In the room closest to the end Where finally everything will be gone over; Dismantled, held up, carefully laid back down While talked into the beauty which can turn In a minute. Alone and so the lovers look at each other Until none else can come near. Tries anyway, oh so brave, unable to know where She heads; unwrapping until only a gift Which cannot be given as it cannot be let go.
Noticias - La importancia arqueológica de los Sex Pistols Akvavit Akvavit or aquavit (/ˈɑːkwəviːt/; /ˈɑːkvəviːt/; also akevitt in Norwegian) is a flavoured spirit that is principally produced in Scandinavia, where it has been produced since the 15th century.[1] Akvavit gets its distinctive flavour from spices and herbs, and the main spice should (according to the European Union) be caraway or dill. It typically contains 40% alcohol by volume. The EU has established a minimum of 37.5% ABV for akvavit to be named as such.[2] Etymology[edit] The word aquavit is derived from Latin aqua vitae, "water of life." Drinking culture[edit] Aquavit is an important part of Scandinavian drinking culture, where it is often drunk during festive gatherings, such as Christmas dinners and weddings, and as an aperitif.[3] In Sweden, Denmark and Germany aquavit is cooled down and often sipped slowly from a small shot glass. Production[edit] Akvavit, like vodka, is distilled from either grain or potatoes.[7] After distillation, it is flavoured with herbs, spices, or fruit oil.
Un templo para ateos en el corazón de Londres La idea de construir un gran templo al ateísmo en el corazón financiero de la capital del Reino Unido ya ha generado una disputa entre prominentes ateos.El proyecto lo propuso el filósofo y escritor suizo Alain de Botton, que acaba de publicar el libro "Religión para Ateos" y quien asegura que ya cuenta con casi la mitad del equivalente a millón y medio de dólares para levantar el edificio.El templo está concebido como una estructura de más de 45 metros de altura, entre bancos internacionales y torres medievales en la City, el centro financiero de Londres, que evocará los más de 300 millones de años de vida en la Tierra. Snaps - Wikipedia Snaps drinking in Sweden, early 20th century. Snaps (Swedish: [snaps], Danish pronunciation: [ˈsnɑbs]) is a Swedish and Danish word for a small shot of a strong alcoholic beverage taken during the course of a meal. A ritual that is associated with drinking snaps is a tradition in Scandinavia, especially in Sweden and Denmark, where it is very common to drink snaps at holidays such as Midsummer, Christmas and Easter. This ritual has been described by one author as follows: A group of people are clustered around a table for a typical lunch that will include several courses and a clear, fiery drink. In Denmark, a snaps will always be akvavit, although there are many varieties of it. The word “snaps” also has the same meaning as the German word Schnaps, in the sense of “any strong alcoholic drink.”[2] Culture[edit] An entrée consisting of pickled herring and potatoes is typically served with snaps, as is the Swedish surströmming. Home liquor production in Scandinavia[edit] See also[edit]
La mecánica del amor: ¿cómo sabían en los años 20 si una pareja tendría éxito o fracasaría? La naturaleza del amor, se ha creído casi desde siempre, es por esencia indomable, una potencia que sin explicación ni aviso toma a una persona y la convierte en su títere, su siervo, un guiñapo que obedece a mandamientos irracionales que lo único que persiguen es la satisfacción de un deseo, de una pasión. Y quizá por esto mismo, en la historia no han sido pocos los esfuerzos por intentar controlar al amor, lo mismo con métodos mágicos que por otros pretendidamente científicos y totalmente racionales. Entre estos destaca una serie de pruebas ideadas por Hugo Gernsback (inventor y escritor estadounidense nacido en Luxemburgo) en la década de 1920 y publicada en la revista Science and Invention y según las cuales sería posible determinar si un matrimonio fallaría o tendría éxito. Según Gernsback, con 4 exámenes sería posible saber si una pareja terminaría amándose hasta el final de sus días o si, por el contario, no se soportarían ni durante una corta temporada. [Smithsonian]
The infinity of things: Christopher J. Johnson | Books Christopher J. Johnson dedicates his first collection of poetry &luckier (The Center for Literary Publishing at Colorado State University, 2016) to grand physical things: “for the depths of Vostok& Jupiter’s ancient storm.” Vostok, the forever-frozen Antarctic lake, is a time capsule of prehistoric times. Something of an alchemist himself, Johnson also dedicates his volume “for all curious things” — which has a double meaning, not only referring to curious things, but also to the gift of curiosity, a measure of consciousness. Johnson’s themes come of reading — poetry, of course, but also philosophy and the sciences. &luckier is preceded with a line — “And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier,” from Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself.” Johnson’s poems reflect another line from “Song of Myself”: “every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.” He said the cadence of his poems comes from “deep engagement” with blank verse, sonnets, and the like.
Noticias - Los punks británicos, tan críticos del jubileo hoy como antes Excerpt from We Are Starved | Center for Literary Publishing We Are Starved Always blood and those who give of it so freely. The hemophiliac, the martyr. The meatpacking plant at the end of the street. This Plenty, This Never Enough Ravaging your pear tree. Not for hunger nor poverty, but to do wrong, to perish. To want things is a kind of sadness, a sickness— for had I loved the pears I stole— But I did not and would not eat them. You beg me to stay. It is harrowing to watch. uncontrollable and so close to ruin. No love deserves the death it has, you say. But when I find the fruit in the dumpster behind your apartment, I eat it. There is nothing left, nothing I will not do. It wasn’t a meal, you say, it was my heart. Is it good, friend? It was foul but I loved it. Darkling The blackbird he feeds from a pomegranate in his hand. The red suffering it rushes to, it dies from. Seven seeds and then their bursting forth. My brother and I looking for another animal to somehow extinguish. The way we recognized the ache of the world and our place within it. That we must sing.