tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9401469089184008322012-01-08T06:01:32.671-08:00ubuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345046048548176058noreply@blogger.comBlogger51100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940146908918400832.post-40504298473317965142010-08-01T06:42:00.001-07:002010-08-01T06:42:38.303-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nE9qutbUcqE/TFV5w6wKPTI/AAAAAAAAA3g/kkrScQNMJm4/s1600/JEBerendt-WasIstJazz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nE9qutbUcqE/TFV5w6wKPTI/AAAAAAAAA3g/kkrScQNMJm4/s320/JEBerendt-WasIstJazz.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940146908918400832-4050429847331796514?l=ubu-musings.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345046048548176058noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940146908918400832.post-59055100157072612352010-03-09T23:29:00.000-08:002010-03-09T23:30:28.801-08:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nE9qutbUcqE/S5dKhPYdguI/AAAAAAAAAyE/8KUPAGxsaxs/s1600-h/ecm.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nE9qutbUcqE/S5dKhPYdguI/AAAAAAAAAyE/8KUPAGxsaxs/s320/ecm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446904209253171938" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940146908918400832-5905510015707261235?l=ubu-musings.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345046048548176058noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940146908918400832.post-77125572305401796652009-09-02T01:57:00.001-07:002009-09-02T02:21:48.250-07:00Karl Kraus <br /><br />Man frage nicht, was all die Zeit ich machte.<br />Ich bleibe stumm;<br />und sage nicht, warum.<br />Und Stille gibt es, da die Erde krachte.<br />Kein Wort, das traf;<br />man spricht nur aus dem Schlaf.<br />Und träumt von einer Sonne, welche lachte.<br />Es geht vorbei;<br />nachher war's einerlei.<br />Das Wort entschlief, als jene Welt erwachte.<br /><br />[Die Fackel: Nr. 888, 10.1933, 35. Jg.. DB Sonderband: Die Fackel 1899-1936, S. 34086<br />(vgl. Fackel Nr. 888, S. 3-4)]<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940146908918400832-7712557230540179665?l=ubu-musings.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345046048548176058noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940146908918400832.post-89656183601786605632008-12-16T01:22:00.000-08:002008-12-16T01:58:11.834-08:00I do not agree with Chomsky on language... not at all. In fact I am quite certain generative grammatics are just another metaphysical model (and we don't need more of those, do we? <a href="http://www.chomsky.info/">Chomsky</a> the political activist would certainly agree).<br /><br />Anyway, here's his highly enlightening <a href="http://rapidshare.com/files/173830354/NoamChomsky_Obama_TA_2008-12-06.doc">write-up</a> on Obama and the state of US democracy (he calls it dysfuntional). It's in German only.<br /><br />The soundtrack to this can be heard in minor... #5 <a href="http://ubu-space.blogspot.com/2008/12/carla-bley-chateauvallon-1977.html">here</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940146908918400832-8965618360178660563?l=ubu-musings.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345046048548176058noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-940146908918400832.post-13698807149766247652008-11-09T03:40:00.000-08:002008-12-29T00:38:04.426-08:00Quite a day in (German) history:<br /><br />1848: Execution of Robert Blum, member of parliament (the event which actually brought to an end the revolution from March 1948)<br /><br />1918: November revolution (Kiel)<br /><br />1923: Hitler-Ludendoff-Putsch fails<br /><br />1938: Reichskristallnacht<br /><br />1989: Fall of the Berlin wall<br /><br /><br />A poem to go along - not really related, but...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Grodek</span><br /><br />Am Abend tönen die herbstlichen Wälder<br />Von tödlichen Waffen, die goldnen Ebenen<br />Und blauen Seen, darüber die Sonne<br />Düstrer hinrollt; umfängt die Nacht<br />Sterbende Krieger, die wilde Klage<br />Ihrer zerbrochenen Münder.<br />Doch stille sammelt im Weidengrund<br />Rotes Gewölk, darin ein zürnender Gott wohnt<br />Das vergoßne Blut sich, mondne Kühle;<br />Alle Straßen münden in schwarze Verwesung.<br />Unter goldnem Gezweig der Nacht und Sternen<br />Es schwankt der Schwester Schatten durch den schweigenden Hain,<br />Zu grüßen die Geister der Helden, die blutenden Häupter;<br />Und leise tönen im Rohr die dunkeln Flöten des Herbstes.<br />O stolzere Trauer! ihr ehernen Altäre,<br />Die heiße Flamme des Geistes nährt heute ein gewaltiger Schmerz,<br />Die ungebornen Enkel.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">by Georg Trakl</span><br /><br /><br />Here's an <a href="http://www.literaturnische.de/Trakl/english/sonst-e.htm#grodek">english translation</a>, found on <a href="http://www.literaturnische.de/Trakl/index-trakl.htm">this page</a> dedicated to Trakl.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/940146908918400832-1369880714976624765?l=ubu-musings.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>ubuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345046048548176058noreply@blogger.com