Terpsichore

There is no Muse of blogging--at least, not the likes that Robert Herrick or some sentimental poet would sing odes to, beseeching inspiration. If there were a blogging Muse, I'd wager that she'd be by turns loud and whiney, impatient and absent, and more than just a little bit raunchy. The word museum comes from a place to worship the Muses but I don't know that I'd like to make a special trip to this one's temple--Terpsipornai we could name her, delight in harlots, or perhaps she already exsists in the sister Clio, Muse of History, whose name means to "recount" or to "make famous." There's no Muse of journalism either, and yet there's no shortage of commentary and analysis for every topic, accessible or not. Maybe that's why the news business is collapsing. Maybe the trick is to pick a subject and stick to it--the well never seems to run dry then. There is no longer the Johan Daily, nor would I have the fortitude to publish such a thing--although there's always the pleasant unmentionables, there is no ephemeral news-cycle that I would care to share. The Muses were all about inspiration for improvisation, in any case, and not about research and re-worked rehearsals.

electro smog

A cellular telephone has been developed that holds a charge stolen out of the ether, sort of like a self-winding watch that powers itself from the kinetic energy of the wearer walking about. This gadget is like an antenna for stray electric impulses and receives them like a radio. A few months earlier, researchers should that a light bulb could be coaxed to life, wirelessly, from domestic background radiation.
It's a pretty nifty idea, to be able to divine electricity out of its surroundings--but it does illustrate how already choked our households are with electro smog. I'd much rather see the realization of the Broadcast Energy Transmitter that G*I* Joe had. Remember that? It seems a lot cleaner and safer. Wind-up toys were pretty nifty, as well, and I think that sort of refined tinkering is an art lost to battery-power.

Dear Gentle Reader

H and I are just derevealing from our trip to Rome, and even though we were not away for very long, it was rejuvenating and it felt as if we were in the Eternal City for quite some time. In fact, though I had no issues of separation-anxiety with work and emails, I felt that I had been away for so long that I felt remiss with giving my readership, my followers, a much awaited update. I'm never certain what LonelyGal_Winnepeg wants to hear about first... Rome was breathtaking and I didn't realize beforehand that downtown was peopled was mammoth ruins like that. In the movies, one sees vespas circling the Colosseum but one cannot really imagine the entrenched excellent rubble. Years ago, a piece I read by Joan Dideon on the then new Getty museum--an apparent eye-sore in its day. She posited that there was a point in the age of any monument's life when it makes the transition from tacky to distinguished. The Baths of Caracalla and the Imperial Fori probably looked like audacious symphonies when brand-new, different than a modern shopping mall but not by much, and needed to reach a certain vintage to inspire awe and wonder.

SPQR

H and I are poised to escape from Frankonia--for the first time since County Kerry back in October. The chance to get away couldn't have come soon enough--the relief a vacation affords lingers. And it seems Rome is a rather popular destination this season. We've sat dreaming and scoping out sites and we're very excited.