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This is my entry for LJ Idol (http://therealljidol.dreamwidth.org) for this week. The topic is "When It Rains, It Pours."
My car started it. A few days ago, I had bundled up and headed out to run errands, my head full of mist. Grabbing my scraper out of the back seat, I begrudgingly slid on the gloves I keep in my coat pockets. Before I could start with the back window, though, I noticed that my car, Photon, a.k.a. Ford Vader, had gifted me with a work of art.
Delicate arches scalloped Ford Vader's roof, as if someone had taken a palette knife and created a layered texture of silver rainbows. I stood and appreciated it for a moment before clearing off the windows.
Next to jump in the game was my Christmas tree: specifically, one of the Martha Stewart ornaments we'd bought when we moved into our apartment a few years ago. It had been our first year with enough room to display a tree, and apart from scattered ornaments I'd received as gifts over the years, we had nothing to hang. This set of classic balls with gold glitter reminded me of the glass bulbs my mom had when I was growing up. She insisted we hang them at the top of the tree so that errant cats wouldn't get curious, bat at them, and break them.
I was in the middle of my exercise routine, jumping in time to the music, when I saw the tree twinkling to the beat. Did I have my own personal light show? After a moment, I figured out the clever game. The ornament swung back and forth as my feet hit the floor, obscuring and then displaying the light behind it. Hence, the strobe light. Well played, ornament. Subtle but evocative.
Then my dish washer found its voice, playing a little musique mechanique as it did its work. Along with the steady, circular whooshing rhythm rang a leit motif of tingling sounds. If you could play the glass organ and combine it with the comforting sounds of the womb, you'd create the sort of music my dishwasher casually tossed into the apartment. Another masterpiece.
I wish I had a recording, but you can get a good approximation of the performance by combining the following videos:
A Street Performer Plays Harry Potter's Theme on Glass Harp
Dishwasher Sounds like Womb
As if this wasn't enough, then I was completely outdone, in my own chosen medium, no less. That is to say that Google Home wrote me a poem.
Yesterday, I was putting together a shopping list for my weekly outing to the grocery store, nearly the only place I go these days. I added "candy canes," but then I continued talking to my son, telling him why I was getting candy canes to go with the hot chocolate. Because you can use them to stir the hot, delicious drink, I told him, and it adds just a little bit of mint. Or, you can hang them over the side of your cup and let them slowly melt into the chocolate. Mmm.
Google Home was still listening. "OK, I've added those four things," it announced.
What?
I checked my shopping list, only to laugh out loud with delight at the brilliant poem Google Home had composed from my mutterings.
the edge of your of your cup
then you can
stir your hot chocolate
thin as a little man
candy canes
hot chocolate
Finally, I threw up my hands in exasperation. Are you all completely done now? How is it fair that all of you have creative ideas to share, and I have absolutely none? Fine. You can write my entry.
The title "Musique Mechanique" was borrowed from the Carla Bley Band track of the same name, which doesn't sound at all like my dishwasher's music, but can be found here: "Music Mechanique" by Carla Bley Band
ETA: Finally got a recording of the dishwasher music! Dishwasher music
My car started it. A few days ago, I had bundled up and headed out to run errands, my head full of mist. Grabbing my scraper out of the back seat, I begrudgingly slid on the gloves I keep in my coat pockets. Before I could start with the back window, though, I noticed that my car, Photon, a.k.a. Ford Vader, had gifted me with a work of art.
Delicate arches scalloped Ford Vader's roof, as if someone had taken a palette knife and created a layered texture of silver rainbows. I stood and appreciated it for a moment before clearing off the windows.
Silvery frost arches on Ford Vader's roof
Next to jump in the game was my Christmas tree: specifically, one of the Martha Stewart ornaments we'd bought when we moved into our apartment a few years ago. It had been our first year with enough room to display a tree, and apart from scattered ornaments I'd received as gifts over the years, we had nothing to hang. This set of classic balls with gold glitter reminded me of the glass bulbs my mom had when I was growing up. She insisted we hang them at the top of the tree so that errant cats wouldn't get curious, bat at them, and break them.
I was in the middle of my exercise routine, jumping in time to the music, when I saw the tree twinkling to the beat. Did I have my own personal light show? After a moment, I figured out the clever game. The ornament swung back and forth as my feet hit the floor, obscuring and then displaying the light behind it. Hence, the strobe light. Well played, ornament. Subtle but evocative.
My tree in between light shows
Then my dish washer found its voice, playing a little musique mechanique as it did its work. Along with the steady, circular whooshing rhythm rang a leit motif of tingling sounds. If you could play the glass organ and combine it with the comforting sounds of the womb, you'd create the sort of music my dishwasher casually tossed into the apartment. Another masterpiece.
I wish I had a recording, but you can get a good approximation of the performance by combining the following videos:
A Street Performer Plays Harry Potter's Theme on Glass Harp
Dishwasher Sounds like Womb
As if this wasn't enough, then I was completely outdone, in my own chosen medium, no less. That is to say that Google Home wrote me a poem.
Yesterday, I was putting together a shopping list for my weekly outing to the grocery store, nearly the only place I go these days. I added "candy canes," but then I continued talking to my son, telling him why I was getting candy canes to go with the hot chocolate. Because you can use them to stir the hot, delicious drink, I told him, and it adds just a little bit of mint. Or, you can hang them over the side of your cup and let them slowly melt into the chocolate. Mmm.
Google Home was still listening. "OK, I've added those four things," it announced.
What?
I checked my shopping list, only to laugh out loud with delight at the brilliant poem Google Home had composed from my mutterings.
the edge of your of your cup
then you can
stir your hot chocolate
thin as a little man
candy canes
hot chocolate
Google Home's shopping list poem
Finally, I threw up my hands in exasperation. Are you all completely done now? How is it fair that all of you have creative ideas to share, and I have absolutely none? Fine. You can write my entry.
The title "Musique Mechanique" was borrowed from the Carla Bley Band track of the same name, which doesn't sound at all like my dishwasher's music, but can be found here: "Music Mechanique" by Carla Bley Band
ETA: Finally got a recording of the dishwasher music! Dishwasher music
no subject
Date: 2020-12-27 05:15 pm (UTC)From:That was a lovely post full of gifts. Brava!