Sunday Music, Monday Edition

I spent the last week on an isolated island that closely resembled an aging idiot’s (Ger., Eng.) paradys : Work one likes and can manage the way one likes ; a large empty house with a well sorted kitchen for one alone ; a superette in easy, pedestrian friendly distance (20 minutes, at the village’s other end) ; human company restrictable to absolute minimum ; no internet ; one cellphone with an ancient battery on a very weak signal / connection that allows one call daily only.
I have every intention to go back tomorrow.
I heared that something called “electronical detoxication” is all the rage now for those oh-so-up-to-date-people – I can say that a week without seeing the visages of our hailed “leaders” is very refreshing, and that days without the constant rush of headlines, so called “news”, and generally without the latest flatulunculum in commune cerebro are well spent. I did not read a printed newspaper, not even a book (!). But this week I will read (at least in) some of those I unbox, sort, and put in their shelves. I recognise some books, those I was already interested in seven years ago when I de-dusted, sorted, and boxed them (After I had heard the immortal words : “Store them temporarily, in six months you’ll be back”).
The catalogue I made years ago now helps me. When it’ll be finished they all will have found their correct place, protected from sunlight and dust in shelves with doors. They already carry a book-number, the place where they are to be found is dutifully noticed – all I’ll have left to do is work my notes & comments into the electronic catalogue later.
But after the books come the archive, something my principal is very interested in, and I am a bit sceptical about. First of all my beloved books must be finally taken care of, then I’ll take care of the files & whatnot materials – we had no space, no room, so the whole stuff was piled up against one wall – the last one free when I’ll have sorted these materials. I have no idea about how to store this stuff where. And sadly there is no more alternative space left – these four small rooms I have for what they like to call “The Archive”, this is it, this has to do.
Now let’s hear some music, a short & bit melancholic canzone for four voices by Gioseffo GUAMI (1542-1611) (Ger., Eng.). The interesting building is the torre Guinigi (Ger., Eng.) in Lucca, GUAMIs home town. I hope you like the music, may we all have a successful week.



13 thoughts on “Sunday Music, Monday Edition

  1. How wonderful to be excised from flutulunculem in commune cerebro…!
    I am, these days, ruthlessly selective of any “news.”
    Very envious of your book cabinets, though.

  2. Being an islander I often look out of my window to cast my beady eye on the passers-by and think to myself that island dwellers have a hint of savagery about them and it seems the further north you travel the more belligerent and suspicious the natives become.

  3. I had a soul-sucking government job for some years, but it was the first time I did not live paycheck to paycheck, so it was hard to leave. I would look at pictures of islands for sale on my lunch break to survive the days. I did not want a tropical disease island, but a nice West/Northwestern island as I am a Northern hemisphere girl through and through. Southern Alaska has many islands. It is more like the temperature here, that I am used too, not like True North, bitter cold Alaska that most people think of. Have a good week!

  4. Is it true that Scots walk around with a knife between their teeth, dear Mitzi ?

    I usually look at islands in European seas, Mediterranean Sea included. It is nothing but an extended Gedankenspiel, imagination – even if I one some tons of cash I would not life on an island Melanie. I prefer terra firma, and a prospect.

    Would a nice palazzo in the midst of a slightly overgrown park behind a dense hedge be sufficient, Mistress ? In the long run salt water is not friendly to paper. One could sit on top of the library tower, look over the land, read, and sip refreshing stuff.

    Yes, it was a friendly silence Austere.

  5. I agree, it is only a dream to think of having one’s own island. As someone who lives in a very large state and travels hours to play in other large states nearby, even the island of Hawaii would not be big enough to keep me happy.

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