Neanderpundit

That i can sing in other languages; the first is “ode to Joy” in german,the second “mas Que Nada” and “Ue o muite Aruko” in Japanese. (Most people know that as “Sukiyaki”, which was possibly the very worst Americanized name for any song, ever). Kyu Sakamoto and the song became famous together in America in 1963, and I love hearing him sing it, he overemotes and camps it up, I imagine the Japanese think of him the way we think of Bobby Darin or Sammy Davis Jr.

While I enjoy the song, I had never had it bring tears ot my eyes the way it does when I hear this woman sing it

Laura Shigihara is a Japanese American woman who, apparently, writes scores for video games, develops games, etc.

I know that I love the sound of her voice. I wish there was more of it, and less piano. A lot of her other stuff is more videogamey and less THIS, but I like it just the same.

Edited to add: I bet Ed Hering already knows her favorite color and inseam.

to see if i still feel.

Unfortunately, I do!!!

Yesterday I spent all day at hunting camp putting a porch and roof in front of the cabin, and the lifting and the climbing and the sawing over my head with chainsaws and antique cast aluminum skilsaws that weighed (I weighed ’em) 24 lbs.

It nearly wasted me.

Not to be outdone I installed the new woodstove today, with Partner’s help. More ladders, more climbing, and more pain. I lurves it. Now I get to wait until the sealant on the chimney cap dries (24 hrs) and I can fire it up for the first time. By next weekend I may be luxuriating in the warmth of the new stove. If I recover.

without further comment.

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
But when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie–
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years that nature permits
Are closing in asthma or tumors or fits
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers, or loaded guns.
Then you will find–its your own affair
But–you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will
When the whimper of welcome is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone–wherever it goes–for good,
You still discover how much you care
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em the more do we grieve;
For when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short time loan is as bad as a long–
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Rudyard Kipling.

The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man’s.
– Letter to W. D. Howells, April 2, 1899

Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.
– Mark Twain, a Biography

Godspeed, my furry little friend.