I don’t have much to say today. I am absolutely wiped, and today is one of my busiest days of the year.
I haven’t had much time to read comics, but the one discussed here adequately depicts the societal ennui and decadence that seems increasingly prevalent in our world.
With that, here is “TBT^2: Hawkworld“:
I’ve been writing a lot about my composing lately, which might be wearing down my readers. However, I have two updates on that front to sweeten the pot:
I don’t have much more on #2 at the moment, but one of those commission will be paid, and involves composing for various flutes. The other commission will be for an online friend of mine.
As for #1, I’m quite excited for this release. It features some bold tracks, particularly the lengthy title track, “Epistemology.”
My latest bout of composing started last August (2023), but it was predated by a round of piano compositions dating back to February 2022. That resulted in Péchés d’âge moyen. I’m still planning to put together Red Tardy Slip Compositions, but I’ve tabled it for the time being to focus on more electronic works.
Here’s to composing!
With that, here is “TBT: Composing Humorous Miniatures“:
During The Age of The Virus I took up painting as a little hobby, and came to enjoy it. Let me emphasize the word “hobby“—I am not a skilled painter, and while I have sold a few of my works (mostly to family members), it’s been an overall money-losing excursion.
I attempted to sell paintings at the South Carolina Bigfoot Festival last October, and managed to unload a single painting. Of course, the little girl who purchased that painting loved it; it was a strange, whale-like creature that she took to be the Loch Ness Monster, and she adored it. It’s one of the few paintings I failed to photograph, so I can’t show it here, but that’s immaterial—it was sweet seeing that little girl’s face light up.
Of course, the brightening of little girl’s faces doesn’t put cornflakes on the table, so I’m officially proclaiming my foray into painting as a possible commercial endeavor a failure. As a hobby, though, it’s something I still enjoy doing, and I’ll do some light sales on the side for anyone interested. Otherwise, I’m not going to push it aggressively as a possible revenue stream.
For those that are interested, I use these little canvasses for my paintings (note—that link is an Amazon Affiliate link; I receive a small portion of any purchase made through that link, at no additional cost to you). Like everything, they’ve gone up in price, but they’re a pretty good deal for small (5″x7″), thin canvasses, and they’re easy to use. There’s also an adorable 3″x5″ variety, which I am excited to try. I like the idea of index card-sized paintings.
With that, here is 23 February 2023’s “TBT: Little Paintings“:
It’s funny how time heals all wounds (except the conflicts between Israelis and Arabs; Sunnis and Shiites; Russians and Ukrainians; English and Irish; humans and robots; dogs and cats; etc., etc.). What’s more notable is that dating someone who respects you and treats you well really puts a new perspective on life and love and relationships—all that mushy stuff we love to emote about around Valentine’s Day.
Yours portly has pretty much seen it all in the admittedly limited realm of heterosexual monogamous dating, the kind without any weird perversions or lurid peccadilloes attached. It’s a tough playing field out there for men. As you get to my age (I’m a supple thirty-nine now), it gets a bit more challenging.
One thing I’ve learned is that single Christian women over thirty are nuts. There’s more pressure on them—mostly soft and, I suspect, self-inflicted pressure, but pressure nonetheless—than worldly floozies to get a husband. Since most of their peers did so between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, they can’t help but think something is wrong with themselves. Women being particularly prone to solipsistic rationalization, they invent various reasons to cover up this gnawing sensation: “I’m dedicated to my career”; “The Lord Has me in a season of singleness”; etc. The Truth is probably too hard to confront.
Lest readers think I am dumping on the ladies, I acknowledge that these critiques apply partially to me, too. The difference, I think, is that it is historically- and economically-established that men often don’t marry until later in life, as we take a bit longer to mature. We also have the deeply instinctual provider role, and while the world insists we don’t have to do that and that women don’t want it, that impulse is still very real. No woman wants to date a deadbeat, and we’re pretty much all deadbeats in our early twenties. It takes us awhile to build up an empire.
Of course, that’s probably the key difference between men and women economically: most women have the luxury of dropping out of the workforce when a suitably stable and secure man comes along, if they’re willing to make mild sacrifices. It’s well-documented that men risk far more in relationships than women, and bear far greater search and support costs.
But I digress. My experience has been that single Christian women past thirty are former party girls who have reconnected with their faith (good if true), or perpetual daddy’s girls who never left home. Either way, they suddenly have ludicrously high standards that apply to the “good guys”—standards they once (and likely still would) throw out the window for the right bad boy. Alternatively, they’re so starved for male affection, they’ll throw all standards out the window (missionaries, I’ve noticed, are the worst when it comes to this tendency). Whatever the case, they’re not exactly strong “living witnesses” for the Lord.
Fear not, dear readers: despite the previous diatribe, I am not bitter (the likely reaction to reading a veritable carpet bombing of taboo Truth Bombs). I am dating a wonderful woman. She is over thirty. She is a Christian, albeit not in an intensely devout way. Indeed, she kind of defaults to the mild progressivism of most twenty-first-century American women. I don’t think she thinks about politics or social issues much beyond whatever comes up on in the mainstream.
And she’s the kindest, most well-adjusted woman I’ve ever dated. She’s so kind and supportive, it’s made me chill out—and I’m probably as batty as some of the women I’ve described here. For probably the first time in my lengthy dating career, I’m not worried about a relationship. I don’t have the gnawing sense that she doesn’t like me for some unknown reason.
It’s pretty liberating.
Also, she brings me Biscoff cookies. That’s love.
With that, here is 9 February 2023’s “TBT: Alone“:
Over the past two years my LEGO hobby has become something more of a habit—an expensive one. LEGO have always been pricey, but prices have only gone up with inflation.
As such, I’m trimming back on my habit slightly. I still have an awesome set from Christmas that I need to build, and it’s a big one—more details soon(ish). I just keep having other projects and deadlines and such to meet, so I haven’t taken time to sit down and build it.
Of course, the best of all was the Medieval Blacksmith (#21325) set, which I purchased for $145 as a birthday present to myself in January 2022. The set is sold-out at LEGO.com at the time of writing (it’s likely soon-to-be-retired), but were it in stock, it’d cost a cool $180.
Honestly, the set is worth it. If you really want to get it—and, if you have the means, I highly recommend you pick one up—it’s on Amazon for $178.36. There are also tons of knock-offs, like this $80 GUDI version. I can’t vouch for its quality, but it’s a testament to this set’s success that it’s been copied so frequently (including variations, like the FunWhole apothecary’s shop—$60 after using a $20 Amazon coupon).
Before going on, Amazon requires me to tell you that this post contains affiliate links—they’re in that prior paragraph. I get a portion of any proceeds from sales through those links, at no additional cost to you.
That aside, let’s get back to the LEGOs!
With that, here is 2 February 2023’s “TBT: Getting Medieval… with LEGO“:
Today is not Groundhog Day. That’s tomorrow (Friday, 2 February 2024), but I have something special for tomorrow. Still, I thought it’d be nice to observe this unusual holiday, which I haven’t done since 2021.
Groundhog Day is one of those fun relics of old, weird America, the America of roadside attractions, themed hotels, kooky local personalities, and the like. I doubt seriously that a rodent in Pennsylvania can predict the weather, but it’s a fun little game we play every year.
With that, here is 2 February 2021’s “Groundhog Day“:
For several years now I have reblogged a post about my favorite of Beethoven’s symphonies, his Sixth Symphony, the so-called “Pastoral.” I have a soft spot for programmatic music, especially music that depicts Creation/Nature. It’s a wonderful and moving symphony, depicting a day in the country.
Beethoven loved spending time in nature, and would jot down ideas on long walks. What a way to find inspiration, out in the beauty of God’s Creation!
I’ve long linked to a version of the symphony as performed by the Berlin Philharmonic, but it seems that version is no longer available. As such, here’s a version of the Pastoral directed by Leonard Bernstein, performed by the Wiener Philharmoniker:
With that, here is 19 January 2023’s “TBT^4: Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony“:
Over MLK Weekend my girlfriend and I took the dogs up to around Mount Mitchell, high in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Appalachia.
I love the mountains. The mountains are in my blood, and although my home is the coastal South Carolina, every so often I need to baptize myself in the solitude and ruggedness of the Appalachian Mountains.
This trip was not my first to this region. I went there four years ago to celebrate my older brother’s fortieth birthday. Here’s a bit my travels during that trip.
With that, here is 21 September 2020’s “More Mountain Musings“:
One of my favorite pieces of the Romantic period is Bedřich Smetana’s The Moldau, which depicts a musical cruise down the titular river. I’m not sure why I always reblog about it in January—the piece has a much more springtime feel—but here we are.
I’ve been composing more and more programmatic and Impressionistic music lately, and nothing I’ve written lives up to what Smetana achieves in this piece.
But I said it all best back in 2021—and reblogged it in 2022.
With that, here is 13 January 2022’s “TBT: The Joy of Romantic Music II: Bedřich Smetana’s ‘The Moldau’“:
Well, it’s back to classes today for yours portly, and the glorious wonder of Christmas Break has officially ended (it technically ended yesterday with a teacher workday). Yours portly is wondering why we couldn’t have a proper Christmas Break and head back to work next Monday, but I don’t get to make those decisions.
This cold, dark time of year often makes me want to hole up with hot food and old movies. It also seems that I come down with some manner of respiratory illness, but here’s hoping that’s not the case this year (I’m writing this post super early). The combination means I spend a lot of time loafing around with my dog.
It’s never been clear to me if I am an extrovert or an introvert. I am gregarious at parties and love laughing and having deep conversations. But family members will also note that, at large gatherings, I’ll typically disappear at some point, usually to some forgotten, quiet nook of whatever house or venue we’re at, reading a book or taking a nap. My younger brother jokes about how I manage to disappear at family get-togethers.
I’ve read that some people have a certain amount of social energy, and they need to let it restore itself. That tracks with my experience: after a certain point, I am ready to be home. That said, I think my meter refills quickly—I have quick “mana regen,” in JRPG terms. A lazy weekend is usually enough to restore me to take on another never-ending week.
Whatever the case, I think we could all use some quiet alone time now and then.
With that, here is 5 January 2023’s “TBT: The Hermit’s Life“:
The Portly Politico 