:: As I stated here, I'm soliciting questions on stuff -- mainly, suggestions for posts -- from readers, probably for use next week. Leave them in comments there, if anything leaps to mind. Anything at all.
:: Next week, by the way, I'll be posting my selections for my "Best Posts of 2005". Just a heads-up.
:: A small preview rant about the Bills: Nice game, guys -- way to get that first road win, in the fifteenth game of the season, and way to show your pride when you're 4-10 and in the running for a top eight draft pick. Ptooie!
:: For various reasons, I've halted my participation in the FSM Message Boards and have moved over to the brand-new Intrada Forums. Intrada is the "grizzled veteran" of specialty record labels focusing on film music, and I wish the forum well.
Time to close down the blog for a couple of days. I'll return on Monday, the day after Christmas. Until then, be well and cool at heart; and may your Christmases be filled with peace, joy, music, love, tables abundant and glasses overflowing.
"Noel: Christmas Eve 1913", by Robert Bridges (1844-1930).
A frosty Christmas Eve when the stars were shining
Fared I forth alone where westward falls the hill,
And from many a village in the water’d valley
Distant music reach’d me peals of bells aringing:
The constellated sounds ran sprinkling on earth’s floor
As the dark vault above with stars was spangled o’er.
Then sped my thoughts to keep that first Christmas of all
When the shepherds watching by their folds ere the dawn
Heard music in the fields and marvelling could not tell
Whether it were angels or the bright stars singing.
Now blessed be the towers that crown England so fair
That stand up strong in prayer unto God for our souls
Blessed be their founders (said I) an’ our country folk
Who are ringing for Christ in the belfries tonight
With arms lifted to clutch the rattling ropes that race
Into the dark above and the mad romping din.
But to me heard afar it was starry music
Angels’ song, comforting as the comfort of Christ
When he spake tenderley to his sorrowful flock:
The old words came to me by the riches of time
Mellow’d and transfigured as I stood on the hill
Heark’ning in the aspect of th’ eternal silence.
(And wouldn't you know it -- in the course of writing this very post, I've just had a really nifty story idea occur to me. And it's too late to write it for Christmas! Oh well, there's always next year.)