Showing posts with label Big Ben. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Ben. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Stonehenge

Stonehenge
London Eye
Big Ben
Orange

Luke 9:1
"Then he called his twelve disciples together, and gave them power and authority over all devils, and to cure diseases."


"now and then he jolted a nodding reader awake by inserting a witty paragraph"~~~Walter Blair


 At ground level, the ruins of Stonehenge appear somewhat random and chaotic, but a view from the air reveals the monument's circular order. The site started out modestly around 3100 B.C. as a wide ring of wood posts surrounded by a ditch and bank. The familiar enormous rock slabs, some brought from hundreds of miles away, were added to the interior over a period of about 1,500 years.






 
The London Eye, London 








Costa Rica typical cart-




 What makes London London - Big Ben, cab, phone box



Chess:  "Stonehenge" "London Eye" "Big Ben " "Orange"



Tuesday, July 21, 2009

For many of us, the enduring image of Mann is to be found at the end of Visconti’s film of Death in Venice; Dirk Bogarde as he lies dying in a deck-ch

Big Ben
Thomas Mann

The Magic Mountain
Prov. 21:28
"A false witness shall perish: but the man that heareth speaketh constantly."
Venecia

Chess: "Big Ben" "Thomas Mann" " The Magic Mountain"

Paul Thomas Mann (6 June 1875 – 12 August 1955) was a German novelist, short story writer, social critic, philanthropist, essayist, and 1929 Nobel Prize laureate, known for his series of highly symbolic and ironic epic novels and novellas, noted for their insight into the psychology of the artist and the intellectual. His analysis and critique of the European and German soul used modernized German and Biblical stories, as well as the ideas of Goethe, Nietzsche, and Schopenhauer.

His older brother was the radical writer Heinrich Mann, and three of his six children, Erika Mann, Klaus Mann and Golo Mann, also became important German writers.

When Hitler came to power in 1933, the anti-fascist Mann fled to Switzerland. When World War II broke out in 1939, he emigrated to the United States, from where he returned to Switzerland in 1952.


From
January 5, 2003

Review: Biography: Thomas Mann by Hermannn Kurzke translated by Leslie Willson


THOMAS MANN: Life as a Work of Art: A Biography
by Hermann Kurzke trans Leslie Willson
Allen Lane £30 pp581

When Thomas Mann died in 1955 at the age of 80, he was dismissed by younger readers as a starchy man of letters. His fiction, with its lofty themes of nihilism, decadence and decay, seemed too old-fashioned and patrician for post-war Germany. The image of Mann as a sort of Teutonic Galsworthy, however, was destroyed in the mid-1970s when the embargo on his diaries expired. The journals revealed that Mann was prone to bouts of nausea, his nerves frayed by homoerotic fantasies. Few should be surprised. Mann’s most celebrated novel, Death in Venice, is not just a high-flown hymn to unrequited love; it is about gay desire.

Yet at the height of his success in prewar Germany, Mann represented the perfect paterfamilias: he had fathered six children, and radiated a stolid, mercantile air. The guilty truth lay hidden in his diary entries; towards the end of his life, these celebrated snake-hipped boys, elevator attendants (“Flirt mit dem lift boy”), sailors and actors. Mann was rather too aloof and self-obsessed to be a good father. In Switzerland, where he spent his last years divorced from his children, he became besotted with a Bavarian waiter named Franz. Poor Franz could not have guessed at his fate. When the 10th and final volume of the Mann diaries came out in 1995, German reporters tracked down the startled former waiter to New York and turned him into a minor celebrity. Mann would have been appalled (even though Franz was immortalised in his unfinished comic novel Felix Krull).

This new biography of Mann has been a bestseller in Germany, and not surprisingly it draws heavily on those salacious diaries. The author, Hermann Kurzke, is literature professor at Mainz University and has a flair for windy abstractions. Thus Mann betrays “the pure reality of the dream world”; he also rejects “the laxness of the homily of sympathy” (whatever that may be). Nevertheless, the professor has a thesis to demonstrate and he does so tirelessly: Mann sublimated his guilty sexual urges in his fiction.

One may be sceptical of this sort of cod psychology. But whatever Mann’s true sexual nature, few have written so alluringly about the enigma of human desire. Hans Castorp’s ill-fated passion for Clavdia Chauchat in The Magic Mountain is charged with a sultry eroticism, where sex glitters dangerously in the death- enchanted sanatorium. Clavdia has a conceivably masculine figure, with her willowy frame and boyish hips. Yet, contrary to what Kurzke and other biographers may believe, there is no evidence that Mann ever moved from homoeroticism to homosexuality. After reading Gore Vidal’s novel The City and the Pillar, he demanded in his diary: “How can one sleep with a man?” Ronald Hayman, in his reliable 1996 biography of Mann, mentions this entry, but Kurzke pointedly omits it.

All his life, Mann was afraid of being outed. Exiled during the war to Los Angeles as an anti-Nazi, he had rashly left his diaries behind in Hitler’s Germany. If Goebbels had got hold of them, suggests Kurzke, Mann’s reputation as a virtuous patrician liberal would have been ruined. For the Nazis, Mann was too cosmopolitan, un-German, decadent and snobbish. And the fact that his wife, Katia Pringsheim, was the daughter of converted Jews endeared Mann even less to the regime. In January 1937, Goebbels banned all mention of the novelist from German papers. Mann had left Germany shortly before Hitler became chancellor in 1933, and did not return until the war’s end.

Kurzke defends Mann from charges of anti-semitism, rightly so. From his part-Brazilian mother, Mann liked to think that he had inherited Indian blood, and he opposed Nazi notions of racial purity. His anti-Hitler propaganda, relayed from America to Germany via the BBC, alerted listeners to the destruction of European Jewry. Moreover, as the genocide unfolded in occupied territories, Mann published his biblical saga, Joseph and his Brothers. To portray Jews as the founding fathers of our modern morality — at such a time — showed a rare German humanity. (Unfortunately, the Joseph opus is Mann’s most soporific effort: how many have got to the end of it?) Thomas Mann: Life as a Work of Art is a thick, teeming book that combines first-class scholarship with flashes of awkward humour and somewhat smarty-pants observation. Mann, I think, would have hated it, but then he was an over-sensitive individual who flinched from cremation (“It may hurt”) as much as from biographers.

For many of us, the enduring image of Mann is to be found at the end of Visconti’s film of Death in Venice; Dirk Bogarde as he lies dying in a deck-chair, while gazing at the beautiful boy on the beach.

Ian Thomson’s biography of Primo Levi is published by Hutchinson. Thomas Mann is available at the Sunday Times

Friday, January 30, 2009

Indonesia

Dominica
Indonesia
Benjamin Button
Big Ben

"My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." fili mi si te lactaverint peccatores ne adquiescas

Bintan, Indonesia - Sunrise
The sun slowly livens the Indonesian sky, casting it's pink glow across the waters toward the shore.

Chess: "T" "clock" "Big Ben" "insontem: Lat.: guiltless:innocent" :"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" "Milka"

Sun's Magnetic Field

I recently saw an IMAX film about the Sun. It stated that every 11 years the Sun's magnetic poles rotate and swap ends, which causes a solar flare. How do the magnetic poles rotate? Also, I know that the Earth's magnetic poles are slowly rotating and over thousands of years will be reversed - is this for the same reason the Sun's poles rotate?
Yes, both the Sun and the Earth reverse their magnetic fields. Both the Sun and the Earth are electromagnets, not permanent magnets (despite the Earth's core being made up of iron and nickel). So it is electric currents moving through the plasma of the Sun and the molten rock of the Earth's interior that generate the magnetic fields. These currents have instabilities that build up until the field reverses to relieve stress. With the Sun, it happens pretty regularly every 11 years.
The magnetic flip is the root cause of the 11-year cycle of solar flares, but it doesn't cause one particular flare. Solar flares are just more likely in the couple of years around the field flip (called solar maximum).
The White Rabbit is a fictional character in Lewis Carroll's book Alice in Wonderland. He appears at the very beginning of the book, in chapter one, wearing a waistcoat, and muttering "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!" Alice follows him down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. The Rabbit shows up again in the last two chapters, as a herald-like servant of the King and Queen of Hearts

Chapter 1
Down the Rabbit-Hole

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice 'without pictures or conversation?'

So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled 'ORANGE MARMALADE', but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.

'Well!' thought Alice to herself, 'after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!' (Which was very likely true.)

Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! 'I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time?' she said aloud. 'I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think - ' (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) ' - yes, that's about the right distance - but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got to?' (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.)

Presently she began again. 'I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think - ' (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word) ' - but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma'am, is this New Zealand or Australia?' (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke - fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) 'And what an ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.'

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. 'Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!' (Dinah was the cat.) 'I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?' And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, 'Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?' and sometimes, 'Do bats eat cats?' for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, 'Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?' when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, 'Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.