#mark kellar

[chaunceyandchumleysdad]

R.I.P. Mark Kellar

It is sad to see this news. I used to play racquetball with Mark when he lived in the Chicago area. He later moved to Minnesota, and I never saw him again. He had an outstanding collegiate football career as a fullback. In 1973, he led the NCAA in rushing, beating out notable future NFL players Tony Dorsett (Pittsburgh), John Cappelletti (Penn State) and Archie Griffin (Ohio State). He went on to play two seasons with the Chicago Fire (World Football League) and three seasons with the Minnesota Vikings (National Football League).

Mark was an excellent racquetball player and he taught me a lot about the game. In particular, he taught me patience. Don't panic and try to cut off the ball. Follow it to the back wall and set yourself up for a good shot. He had that part of the game mastered. He never looked like he was playing hard, but he always got to the ball and made good shots.

I have some good memories of Mark. The first time he played at our club, it was in a doubles match that included me and a guy that had a reputation for being ornery. There were a couple of hinder calls by Mark that Mr. Ornery didn’t agree with. At some point, Mr. O., knowing nothing about Mark’s background as a football player, decides to get in Mark’s face and read him the riot act. Mark got in Mr. O’s face, and shouted, “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO” as I proceeded to wedge myself in between them to try to prevent any fisticuffs.

When Mark joined our club, I recruited him for our travel league team where he quickly became one of the top players in the league. There was a new team that joined the league the year before and their number one player went unbeaten in their first season. In the second season, he was still undefeated when we played his team on their home court. I matched Mark up with this guy, and Mark took care of business and won the match. His opponent did not shake Mark’s hand after the match. Instead, he stormed off the court toward the locker room. Mark causally strolled off the court, and nonchalantly quipped, “I guess I wasn’t supposed to beat that guy!”

I did manage to beat Mark once in our in-house morning league. Knowing that winning two consecutive games against him was virtually impossible, my strategy was to lay it all out and win the first game so that I would have a shot of winning the game three tiebreaker. My strategy worked. I won game three when I buried a ceiling shot in the back corner of his backhand side. When he tried and failed to dig the ball out of the corner, he said, “You talked me right out of it!” I took that as a great compliment from a former pro athlete.

Mark was always easy-going and if we weren’t playing racquetball, we’d always have a chat during our morning workouts. He would get on one those old white and black Stairmasters, set it at top speed, and do it for an hour straight. (By contrast, thirty minutes and medium-low speed was all I could handle.) Mark was never pretentious about his athletic career. However, he didn’t mind talking about it when asked. Though he seldom went out with the racquetball team after our travel league matches, I do remember one night when we sat in a bar, talked about his career and playing in Soldier Field, Metropolitan Stadium and Lambeau Field on cold December days.

Unfortunately, he moved to Minnesota just before cell phones became ubiquitous, so I had no contact information for him after he left. As I later traveled to Minnesota periodically for business, I did try to track him down but was unsuccessful. I played quite a bit of racquetball in the Twin Cities area, but nobody knew of Mark. So perhaps he quit playing the game or I just didn’t look in the right places. He was a part of my life for a relatively short but fun period of time. I hope he has found everlasting peace.

#mark kellar #northern illinois university #minnesota vikings #nfl football #chicago fire #wfl football #racquetball #chicago #minnesota #ncaa football

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 15 August 1839

7 20/..

12 10/..

fine sunny morning F80° in the sun at 8 ½ am and 70° half hour afterwards in the shade (in our small bedroom – 2 beds) – dawdling over 1 thing or other till A- was dressed – breakfast at 9 ½ in about ¾ hour – had Mrs. Todd – she does not know much about forbud-papers – will send for an English man who speaks Swedish and would perhaps go with us for 2 dollars (banco?) a day – the bookseller told me yesterday, if I would send Gross, he would explain in German all about the forbud etc. – G- went this morning – saw probably the wrong person and he would take no notice of him – Had just written so far now at 10 50/.. am then till 12 40/.. counting over Norway money and had the Scotchman (Riddle) that Mrs. Todd proposes for our coachman – asks 3 Dollars (banco?) a day - Expense paid back and 3 Dollars a day for the time of return – Norwegian money to be changed = 207.3.22 and I have besides a Danish mark 8 skillings but passes for six skillings in Norway and I have also a one skilling piece left in my purse – then looking over papers in travelling bag etc. etc. till 2 35/.. out at 3 – sauntered into the market place and about – then to Clippen [Klippan] and back from the church in 50 minutes at 5 55/.. – came in at 6 10/.. dinner at 6 ¼ to 7 20/.. then talking till had Grotza at 8 ¼ - then packing boot box portmanteau travelling bag, a regular turn out till 11 ¾ very fine day – F66° now at 11 ¾ pm

went yesterday to the bank the 1st thing at 3, the door shut – meant to return at 4, but went to Clippen [Klippan] after sauntering about the grande place to see the remains of the fair which lasts a fortnight, over this week - .:. not so good now by far as at first – stalls-booths wooden that lock up, and are in fact little portable rooms that take the pieces – all sorts of things to be sold – from Stockholm – cloths woollen linen and cotton – kitchen utensils – plate – books – pastry and furs – comfits etc. gloves – shoes – toys – everything – It must be hard upon the regular shops – from the fair to the waters’ edge, and stood seeing

SH:7/ML/TR/12/0027

August Thursday 15  seeing the mud worked out by a large iron cage-like shovel, moved by 2 little tread-wheels fixed on a floating stage – then back to the grand place, and direct to the Götha Kellare (the Inn we 1st stopt at on arriving) and round the outside of the town (the way just within the old Rampart?) to the great Boulevard tree-planted road to Clippen [Klippan] – 1st went to the end of a village to the east of the great tower castle now powder magazine, then got into the great road – an omnibus passed and afterwards re-passed us – Clippen [Klippan] large long village full of Lodging houses for our sailors great deal of shipping – went into a large deal yard and on board one of the vessels lying alongside in progress of loading – thence to Clippen [Klippan] church there at 5 – finer view from the hill sometime  before reaching the church – stood there 4 minutes then back by the paved road (the other rubbed) along the water and came out close to the barracks and home at 5 55/.. – sauntered about near home – till came in at 6 10/.. good dinner at 8 ¼ - Blueberries so like black currant I could not distinguish the one from the other – had the coachman William Riddle at 7 20/.. – sat up looking over my money etc.

he is to have his 3D.B. a day and go with us

[xtruss]

It’s time for the Vernal Equinox, when Sunrise and Sunset are about 12 hours apart Worldwide. Illustration Janet Loehrke/USA Today

2024 Spring Equinox: A Visual Guide to the Changing of the Seasons

— Janet Loehrke | USA Today | March 17, 2024

I Thought it was Spring Already?

Maybe it seemed like it between the unseasonably warm winter temperatures and Punxsutawney Phil's prediction of an early spring. But on March 19, the astronomical winter ends and spring begins. It's also known as the vernal equinox – when day and night are the about same length almost everywhere on Earth.

When the vernal equinox takes place on Tuesday evening in the U.S., it will already be March 20 for most of the world. A March 21 equinox won't occur on the continental U.S. during the entire 21st century, according to The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Here's what happens on the first day of spring.

When is the Spring Equinox?

The March equinox comes at 11:06 p.m. EDT on Tuesday, the precise moment the sun's rays shine directly on the equator. Meteorologists actually consider March 1 the beginning of spring.

Tuesday is one of two days of the year – the other is the day of the autumnal equinox in September – when the Earth's axis is tilted neither toward nor away from the sun, resulting in roughly 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness almost everywhere on the planet.

Source: NASA (Not to Scale)

What Causes the Seasons to Change?

After the spring equinox, the north pole continues tilting toward the sun until summer solstice, or the day when the northern hemisphere receives the most sunlight. After that longest day in June, the north pole begins its six-month retreat in the sky toward winter.

The word "equinox" comes from the Latin words "aequalis" and "nox," meaning "equal night." On the autumnal (and the spring) equinox, day and night are roughly 12 hours long each in most of the world.

Day and night aren't exactly 12 hours long on the day of the equinox because the Earth's atmosphere refracts, or bends, light in an optical illusion that brings more daylight than there really is. Because of this, the date when day and night are of exactly equal length is usually a few days after the spring equinox.

What's the Difference Between an Equinox and a Solstice?

Equinoxes – when day and night are roughly equal – occur in March and September and mark the astronomical beginning of spring and autumn in the Northern Hemisphere.

Solstices occur in June and December, which mark the beginning of astronomical summer and winter. The summer solstice is when the sun is at its highest point in the sky and the winter solstice occurs when the sun is at its lowest point in the sky.

— Contributing: Doyle Rice, Liz Kellar and Clare Mulroy, USA Today

#Spring Equinox 2024 #Visual Guide #Changing of the Seasons #Janet Loehrke | USA Today #Causes | Seasons to Change #Difference | Equinox | Solstice #Doyle Rice | Liz Kellar | Clare Mulroy | USA Today

[goalhofer]

2023 In Memoriam Part 43

Archbishop Vincentius Sensi Potokota, 72

Guillermo Hernández, 69

Background Bob, 15

Alice Denney, 101

Preston Hanna, 69

Bishop Paul Tịnh Nguyễn Bình Tĩnh, 93

Dr. S.S. Badrinath, 88

Ron Acks, 79

Chad Allan, 80

Bettina Moissi Berggruen, 100

Dave Young, 64

Mike D'Amato, 82

Tony Genato, 94

Barbara Haščák, 43

Lanny Larason aka Tom Larson, 84

Bishop Guy Armand Romano, 86

Harald Hasselbach, 56

Mark Kellar, 71

George Cohon, 86

Ron Hodges, 74

Archbishop Fabio Martínez Castilla, 73

Daryl Johnson, 77

Terry Venables, 80

A.J. Walling, 77

Geordie Walker, 64

Mike Corkins, 77

Victor J. Kemper, 96

Frances Sternhagen Carlin, 93

Charlie Munger, 99

#Religion #Tributes #Celebrities #Malaysia #Sports #Baseball #Puerto Rico #Florida #Art #U.K. #Washington D.C. #Vietnam #India #Football #Illinois #North Carolina #Music #Canada #Manitoba #Movies #Germany #Switzerland #Ohio #New York #Basketball #The Philippines #Slovakia #TV Shows #Hockey #Missouri

[guy60660]

Mark Kellar

#mark kellar #art #transit

[aagciii]

#31 - Mark Kellar - RB - Chicago Fire (1974)

#mark kellar #chicago fire #world football league #wfl #american football #chicago

[mumblingminstrel]

one of my favorite things abt reading atwq is that lemony would describe characters by always mentioning this One weird detail every time they appear. examples are moxie’s hat that looks like a lowercase a, kellar’s dynamite hair, and ofc, ellington’s question mark eyebrows.

and most of the time, you look at the illustrations and its not even accurate? like sir thats normal looking hat, it doesnt even look like a lowercase a?

its either lemony just really sucks at describing people, or seth (the illustrator) saw his wack descriptions and went “nah, im not adding that in”

#atwq #all the wrong questions #now that im writing this im just questioning whether or not it does look like a lowercase a #does it? am i just not seeing it?

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Secrets We Keep  -  Part 2

Part One

I pulled my white 1970 Mercury Cougar into the parking lot to my apartment complex four and a half hours after hitting the road.  A personal best for me.  It was pushing 4 A.M, I was beyond exhausted and I still had a lot of work to do before I could even think about getting to sleep.

The trunk sprang open and I pulled my pink quilted duffle bag from it, slinging the handles over my shoulder as best as I could.  The staircase leading to my front door welcomed me home and I took each step as if I were climbing a mountain.  Everything was sore and I could feel my eyelids fighting my exhaustion.

My neighbor’s door, as always, was cracked open.  Mrs. Kellar was the president (and only member) of the local neighborhood watch and I was just lucky enough to have her right next door.  I pulled the key to my front door from my pocket as silently as possible, hoping to avoid yet another awkward encounter with the busybody, but to no avail.

“Little late to just be getting home, don’t you think Y/N?”  She poked her head out of the door, angrily staring at me with the judgmental eyes of a disappointed grandmother. Her hair was wrapped in a nightcap and her yellow plush robe was tied too tightly around her waist. She clutched at the neck of her robe as if holding her pearl necklace in astonishment.  “Yep,” was my only response.

“I don’t want no hooligan’s in my building, ya know.  This is a nice quiet place.”  I nodded silently. “Goodnight, Mrs. Kellar.”  I opened my front door and walked into the dining room, closing the door behind me. I could hear my neighbor’s astonishment and aberration of the level of disrespect that no good neighbor of hers showed as she complained to the emptiness of her own apartment and I listened through the paper-thin walls. My bag dropped from my shoulder and hit the floor with a thud.

I glanced at my dining room table.  In any other home, it would be where meals were eaten, and family meetings took place. Instead, my table was covered edge to edge with newspaper clippings, police reports and crime scene photos.  I started picking up each document.  Most of them were directly related to the case I’d just wrapped up.  But some of the reports and photos were for one I was looking into that would take me a few states away; further than I’d gone yet.

Within an hour, my garbage can was full of scraps of paper from my closed case, and all my research for the next one was happily hidden in the firesafe that was tucked away in my closet. Five fifteen in the morning now and every inch of me was screaming for bed.  With my secret work and life safely tucked away from prying eyes, I happily obliged and fell headfirst into my bed without bothering to peal off the well-worn and filthy clothes I had been working in hours before.

The sound of fists slamming against my front door startled me awake.  My eyes flickered as I struggled to focus on the face of the clock the rested on my nightstand.  One o’clock?! There was no way I’d slept that long. My cellphone charger that lay next to my clock sat empty.  Damnit! I began searching my pockets for my phone as I sprang out of bed and sprinted for the door.

The knocking on my door rang out yet again. “Yeah, I’m coming!” I shouted; my voice still heavy with sleep. I yanked the door open and came face to face with a very angry faced Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam, standing just behind him with his arms crossed, radiating various emotions; none of which I could read.

“Oh good,” Dean sarcastically greeted me. “You’re not dead.  See ya.”  He made a move to turn away from the door and head for the stairs but his brother’s hand pushed him back as Sam shook his head at him.

“Sorry, I just woke up. I didn’t realize how late it was.” I took a step back, allowing them both into the apartment. “When did you guys get in?”  I looked at Dean and over to Sam.  He nodded at me silently with the hint of a smile at his mouth as he finally uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his deep pockets.  

“Couple of hours ago. Just long enough to have called you a dozen times and start going out of our minds worrying.”  It was obvious Dean wasn’t going to let this one go.

“Dean, I was out super late and I crashed.  Hard.  No need to worry.  I’m fine. All parts intact and good to go.” I made a show of spreading each arm and leg out independently before turning in a circle as if he needed to inspect me for damages. Dean’s face finally broke as he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Never do that again.”  

“Yeah, yeah.” I muttered as he pulled me into a hug. “Y/N, you reek.  Why do you smell like a housefire?”

Internally, I panicked as I cursed myself for forgoing changing out of my clothes when I got in. “Bonfire,” I explained as coolly as I could muster.  Sam’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You hate bonfires.”

“Yeah, well, not when tequila is involved,” I responded as I gave him double finger guns, feeling ridiculous.  They seemed to accept my answer.

“Come on,” Dean looked at me.  “Get showered, get dressed. Let’s go.” Now it was my turn to be confused. “We’re in town for like a day.  We’re going out and you’re coming with us.”  I rolled my eyes but began walking back towards my bedroom, grabbing the duffle bag off of the floor and carrying it with me.

“Ten minutes!” Dean yelled after me as I closed the door to my room.  I threw the bag on my bed and immediately unzipped it, knowing my cell phone would be inside.  Picking it up and pressing the wake button, the screen only flashed “Low battery” at me for a moment before the screen went black and the phone turned off completely. I quickly laid it on my charging pad on the nightstand and headed to the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I was fresh, clean, and dressed.  I threw my still damp hair up into a bun and quickly rolled on deodorant before tapping my phone’s screen.  “55%, good enough for me.”  

I opened the door and walked into the living room. “Okay, I’m set. Let’s go.”  

“Great,” Dean exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “I’m driving.”  Dean always drove.  It was an accepted and unwritten rule.

We piled in the car, Dean in the driver’s seat, Sam sitting shotgun and me in the back sitting behind Dean. “Where to?” I asked. “Dude,” Dean replied, his voice full of incredulity.  “The casino. That place has the best shrimp cocktail in town.  That, booze and blackjack and I’m good.”  

“Works for me.”  I settled into the seat and pulled my phone out of my pocket as it continuously vibrated, alerting me to each missed call, voicemail and text message that had come through throughout the course of the day.

I flipped through the text messages. Mostly from Dean, beginning with “About an hour out.  See you soon.”  Followed up with “You still free?”  and “Where are you?” getting progressively more panicked as time went by. There was one from my boss letting me know he wouldn’t be in the office the next day, and the last one from Sam that was just a question mark.  It went hand in hand with his behavior since I’d opened the front door; silent stoicism.

The voicemails were far less numerous so I pushed the dial button and began listening to them.  Sam’s easily identifiable sigh rang through the phone and into my ear before the line disconnected.  Then a message from Dean with threats of bodily harm if I wasn’t already being held hostage by a homicidal maniac.  And the final message was from Sam.  He began with a deep breath before he spoke. “I just need you to be okay. I need you to call Dean or call me and just…I just need you to be okay.  I know I was a jerk and I know I ruined it, but I care.  I still care, so much.  Just be okay.”  I looked up at him, my eyebrows pursed and my mouth slightly agape.  The phone was still up to my ear as Sam’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. All stoicism vanished as panic appeared in his eyes as he turned his head to face me.  

Part 3 

Tagging from previous like-age:

@vicmc624​@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @carissime72​  @deans-baby-momma​  @formulafun​  @woodworthti666​  @yetanotherreader​ @crashlyrose​ @hobby27​  @gabby913​  @jxackles​ @polina-93​@supernaturaladdictsblog  @fandomoverdose666​  @deans-baby-momma​ @deanwanddamons​  @tazzi-baby​ @acertainhero​

#sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagines #spn fanfiction #spn #reader insert #sam x reader #imagines #fairlyspnfanfic #the secrets we keep

[freshairandspearmint]

jim.

o.

August 16, 2015. His birthday.

Me: *grabs the crib board* Grandpa: “You want to get beat, huh?”

i.

“day breaks and a single man with one hammer and two hands he begins with a nail and plank steel pushing through the wood grain”

ii.

In my earliest memory, I’m two and a half years old. I’m in the upper level of a hockey rink, looking down on the ice, toddling across benches like I’m practicing being the gymnast I’ll become. I know my dad is on the ice, somewhere. To me, every player is him.

My grandpa is standing at the window keeping watch, over my dad and over me, on standby in case I fall. In case I need him.

iii.

My childhood was marked by Sunday lunch at Grandma and Grandpa’s house after church, swinging on the tree swing in their yard, raiding Grandpa’s strawberry patch for strawberries. I never saw him in anything other than a button up—usually plaid—and his work pants. It made it easy to find him in a crowd. When people wanted to know what Kellar I belonged to, he was the one that I traced back to—because people knew Jim Kellar.

When I started playing cribbage, he was my closest confidante—I was ten years old, and still trying to figure out what to throw in the crib. I’d get my cards and go to him in the living room, telling him what I would throw, and then he’d tell me I was wrong and point out what he’d throw and let me work out why.

Later, he was my favourite cribbage partner. Going up against Grandma and Dad with Grandpa and his wry smile on my side, it felt like there was no way we could lose.

iv.

A game of crib. November 1, 2017.

Grandma: “...and that's 17 in my crib.” Grandpa: “Well she's got a horseshoe up her rear end, doesn't she?”

v.

I think of my grandpa, and a feeling of warm steady sure pulses through me. No matter what, I knew he could be counted on. I knew my grandpa would show up. He greeted me the same way every time, and I leaned into the familiar comfort of it—his face lighting up, arms opening up for a hug, and a, “Hello, there, sweetheart,” in my ear.

vi.

He taught me how to be quiet and listen, how to lean into the gravity of the importance of family. He had nine siblings, and their table was my most favourite place to sit at when we all got together. I don’t care about sitting with the young people at the wedding, even if it worked out well for me—I’ll prefer sitting with my great aunts and uncles, every single time.

I watched them, listened to them. Their laughter and bickering and familiarity washed over me as I sat at my grandpa’s side, knowing he was choosing his words carefully, waiting for the right moment to step in.

vii.

Jim Kellar was most at home with his family at his side, grandchildren and great-grandchildren clambering all over him, and a dog at his feet.

We adored him, and we know that he loved us with all of his being, even to the end.

viii.

I saw this day coming a mile away. I knew it would be sooner or later. That didn’t make it any easier to bear, especially with the state of the world. Especially when we can’t be together.

And as I reel and regroup and poke the bruise, reminding myself he’s not here anymore, I wonder at life without Grandpa as one of my anchors. I’ve always been proud to be a Kellar, and that’s because I’ve always been proud to be my grandpa’s granddaughter. Him being on the couch when I walk into their house is a constant in my life.

I’m not ready to live without him. It will always feel unnatural.

But I know he’s at peace, and that’s what matters most.

ix.

A game of crib. November 15, 2014.

Grandpa: “You should take that thing and chuck it in the garbage because you can't concentrate.”

Give me a second, Grandpa. I have to capture the moment first.

#devlin #famjam #personal shenanigans

[memepipboy]

Oh- if we want the parents to come back- could be that a Raiders gang left symbols spray painted or otherwise marked on the ground/door around the home. After a bit of digging time- in which baby shenannigans happen- maybe Deacon pops in with help pointing to which gang took them (if he factors into Kellar's story, I just like this sassy spy dingus), or just maybe an ex Raider who Nick helped at one point comes to visit with info on this "dumb, wet behind the ears gang who's trying to send a ransom note to the couple's relatives in other settlements", or maybe a ransom note's delivered to the agency if they're connected to Nick or Kellar....... in any case, rescue mission time.

OHHHHHHOHO OKAY WORD

#ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms #asks #help me write a storyline

[the-deeds-to-shibden]

Thursday 15 August 1839

[Recovering from their miserable night at sea, Anne and Ann engage in not-too-strenuous activities: packing for departure, hiring a coachman, and walking in and around Gothenburg. Anne of course manages to find some fascinating machinery, and even somehow inveigle herself on board a cargo ship.]

[up at] 7 20/”

[to bed at] 12 10/”

Fine sunny morning Fahrenheit 80º in the sun at 8 1/2 a.m. and 70º half hour hour afterwards in the shade (in our small bedroom – 2 beds) –  dawdling over 1 thing or other till Ann was dressed – breakfast at 9 1/2  in about 3/4 hour – had Mrs. Todd – she does not know much about forbud-papers – will send for an English man who speaks Swedish and would perhaps go with us for 2 dollars (banco?) a day – the bookseller told me yesterday, if I would send Gross1, he would explain in German all about the forbud etc. – Gross went this morning – saw probably the wrong person and he would take no notice of him – Had just written so far now at 10 50/” a.m. then till 12 40/” counting over Norway money and had the Scotchman (Riddle) that Mrs. Todd proposes for our coachman – asks 3 Dollars (banco?) a day – Expenses paid back and 3 Dollars a day for the time of return – Norwegian money to be changed = 207.3.22 and have besides a Danish mark 8 skillings but passes for six skillings in Norway and I have also a one skilling piece left in my purse –  then looking over papers in travelling bag etc. etc. till 2 35/” – out at 3 – sauntered into the market Place and about – then to Clippen and back from the church in 50 minutes at 5 55/” – came in at 6 10/” dinner at 6 1/4 to 7 20/”  then talking till had Grotza at 8 1/4 – then packing bootbox portmanteau travelling bag, a regular turn out till 11 3/4 very fine day – Fahrenheit 66º now at 11 3/4 p.m. –  went yesterday to the Bank the first thing at 3, the door shut –  meant to return at 4, but went to Clippen after sauntering about the grande place to see the remains of the fair which lasts a fortnight, over this week – therefore not so good now by far as at first –  stalls – booths wooden that lock up, and are in fact little portable rooms that take in pieces – all sorts of things to be sold – from Stockholm – cloths woollen linen and cotton – kitchen utensils – plate – Books – furs – pastry and comfits and gloves – shoes – toys – everything – It must be hard upon the regular shops – from the fair to the water’s edge, and stood seeing the mud worked out by a large iron cage-like shovel, moved by 2 little tread-wheels fixed on a floating stage – then back to the grande Place, and direct to the Götha Kellare (the Inn we first stopt at on arriving) and round the outside of the town (the old way [in] within 2 ramparts) to the great Boulevard tree-planted road to Clippen – first went to the end of a village to the East of the great tower castle now powder magazine then got into the great road –  an omnibus passed and afterwards repassed us – Clippen large long village full of lodging houses for our sailors great deal of shipping – went into a large deal yard and on board one of the vessels lying alongside in progress of loading – thence to Clippen church there a 5 – fine view from the hill some time before reaching the church – stood there 4 minutes then back by the paved road (the other rubbled) along the water and came out close to the barracks and home at 5 55/” – sauntered about near home till came in at 6 50/” – good dinner at 6 1/4 = Blowberries so like blackcurrants I had not distinguished the one from the other – paid the coachman William Riddle at 7 20/” –  sat up looking over money etc.

Anne’s marginal notes:

coachman Riddle Scotchman  

he is to ha[ve] his 3 D[ollars] B[anco] a day and go w[i]th us

Notes

1 Gross was a manservant accompanying Anne and Ann on this trip.

WYAS Catalogue:  SH:7/ML/TR/12/0026   SH:7/ML/TR/12/0027

Gothenburg in the early 19th century:

#anne lister #ann walker #anne lister code breaker #sweden1839 #travelnotes1839 #gentleman jack #annelister #annwalker

[murdoch-histories]

(I’m so sorry about the crappy image quality. If you guys know a place to stream Murdoch Mysteries episodes where everything’s crystal clear, please let me know!)

“Houdini Whodunit” marks the first (and only time, as far as we know) appearance of perhaps the most famous magician of all time. Unfortunately, due to a bank robbery and some bad luck, Inspector Brackenreid believes Houdini himself, played by Joe Dinicol, is the culprit.

Harry Houdini was born Ehrich (pronounced like Erik) Weisz to a family of seven children on March 24, 1874 in Budapest, Hungary. The family later immigrated to the United States in 1878 where they lived in Wisconsin, also changed their surname to Weiss.

Ehrich Weiss’s love of the stage began when he was just nine years old, becoming a trapeze artist referred to as “The Prince of the Air”. However, his interest in magic began as a teenager, taught by magician Joseph Rinn. 

It wasn’t until the 1890s when he really began experimenting with escape acts, which is what we remember him for the most. 

Houdini also had a brief film career from 1918 to 1923, but eventually left due to lack of success. Unfortunately, because of the material used for film at the time, his first film, also reported to be his best, is considered lost. 

At the age of just 52, Houdini passed away of a ruptured appendix. Some people at the time speculated this might have been caused by blows to his abdomen by a university student who went backstage and asked if it was true punches to the stomach did not hurt him. However, the evidence to back this up is unclear.

Interesting facts

- In the 1920s, Houdini became known for being something of a “ghostbuster”, debunking spiritualists and mediums as frauds. Unfortunately, this led to him falling out with his friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who was a firm believer.

- It is generally accepted that Houdini took inspiration of his stage name from French magician Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin, but while the man himself claims that Harry was an homage to Harry Kellar, it likely simply came from his childhood nickname “Ehri”.

-  Houdini had a slight ego - when he met President Theodore Roosevelt, he took a picture with him along with several other men...however, he airbrushed everyone else out so people would think they were friends. 

(No shade or anything, I just found it kind of funny)

#murdoch mysteries #harry houdini #history #season 2 #episode 204 #MurdochHistories #celeberties #actors #season 13 #episode 1311

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 15 August 1839

7 20/..

12 10/..

fine sunny morning F80° in the sun at 8 ½ am and 70° half hour afterwards in the shade (in our small bedroom – 2 beds) – dawdling over 1 thing or other till A- was dressed – breakfast at 9 ½ in about ¾ hour – had Mrs. Todd – she does not know much about forbud-papers – will send for an English man who speaks Swedish and would perhaps go with us for 2 dollars (banco?) a day – the bookseller told me yesterday, if I would send Gross, he would explain in German all about the forbud etc. – G- went this morning – saw probably the wrong person and he would take no notice of him – Had just written so far now at 10 50/.. am then till 12 40/.. counting over Norway money and had the Scotchman (Riddle) that Mrs. Todd proposes for our coachman – asks 3 Dollars (banco?) a day - Expense paid back and 3 Dollars a day for the time of return – Norwegian money to be changed = 207.3.22 and I have besides a Danish mark 8 skillings but passes for six skillings in Norway and I have also a one skilling piece left in my purse – then looking over papers in travelling bag etc. etc. till 2 35/.. out at 3 – sauntered into the market place and about – then to Clippen [Klippan] and back from the church in 50 minutes at 5 55/.. – came in at 6 10/.. dinner at 6 ¼ to 7 20/.. then talking till had Grotza at 8 ¼ - then packing boot box portmanteau travelling bag, a regular turn out till 11 ¾ very fine day – F66° now at 11 ¾ pm

went yesterday to the bank the 1st thing at 3, the door shut – meant to return at 4, but went to Clippen [Klippan] after sauntering about the grande place to see the remains of the fair which lasts a fortnight, over this week - .:. not so good now by far as at first – stalls-booths wooden that lock up, and are in fact little portable rooms that take the pieces – all sorts of things to be sold – from Stockholm – cloths woollen linen and cotton – kitchen utensils – plate – books – pastry and furs – comfits etc. gloves – shoes – toys – everything – It must be hard upon the regular shops – from the fair to the waters’ edge, and stood seeing

SH:7/ML/TR/12/0027

August Thursday 15  seeing the mud worked out by a large iron cage-like shovel, moved by 2 little tread-wheels fixed on a floating stage – then back to the grand place, and direct to the Götha Kellare (the Inn we 1st stopt at on arriving) and round the outside of the town (the way just within the old Rampart?) to the great Boulevard tree-planted road to Clippen [Klippan] – 1st went to the end of a village to the east of the great tower castle now powder magazine, then got into the great road – an omnibus passed and afterwards re-passed us – Clippen [Klippan] large long village full of Lodging houses for our sailors great deal of shipping – went into a large deal yard and on board one of the vessels lying alongside in progress of loading – thence to Clippen [Klippan] church there at 5 – finer view from the hill sometime  before reaching the church – stood there 4 minutes then back by the paved road (the other rubbed) along the water and came out close to the barracks and home at 5 55/.. – sauntered about near home – till came in at 6 10/.. good dinner at 8 ¼ - Blueberries so like black currant I could not distinguish the one from the other – had the coachman William Riddle at 7 20/.. – sat up looking over my money etc.

he is to have his 3D.B. a day and go with us

[bluetapes]

First review of our new release up at Echoes & Dust!

-

Noise has shape.

Or: Noise can have shape. In the hall just ahead of you, hidden behind a pillar. Along a side passage, out of the corner of your eye. The darkness, gathering form, behind you.

What we mean to say is: You know those times when you need the inside of your skull cleared out? Scoured out, with steel wool, leaving nothing but the clean skull, shining, bone-coloured bone, ready to accept a freshly steam-washed cerebrum?

You won’t be the same afterwards, of course. But then, you didn’t want to be. If you did, you wouldn’t be here, now, listening to the Blue Tapes House Band.

Vol. 3: Chase Me Before the Plague is not for everyone. Even having said that, well over 90% of you will press play on the album’s single, nearly-57-minute track, cry “ooogh,” in a strangled voice and break your mouse trying to find the pause button. Then you will write to this publication, demanding recompense for your subsequent therapy sessions.

But those of you who are still listening are too busy experiencing just how music can transform to consider therapy. Less than an hour from now, you’ll lean back in your chair, eyes a little unfocused, muttering to yourself. If someone walked by, then, they’d think they heard you say, “Ahhh.” Or “What just happened?” Or “I have no idea where I am right now (but it’s good. It’s good).”

The shape of this particular noise was formed from music originally created by David McNamee (Thank You, Merciless Onlookers; Kellar), deconstructed and tortured and woven by Matt Collins — with spoken word by Eugene S. Robinson (Oxbow) and Lisa Jayne (Map 71) and odds and ends of synth — into an unrecognizable fusion. The result is static-laden yet cinematic. Like a TV theme you can’t quite identify, tones peer out through the fuzz. What can (barely) be discerned of the spoken word lurches from Robinson’s urban observations (“singing some song soft to himself about Coca-Cola…”) to Jayne’s semi-political ones (“a few of us who couldn’t afford to pay our rent watched people defending their right to blood sports”). The voices take turns, ping-ponging between our ears. Collins treats the spoken word as another instrument rather than as a lead. The listener is freed to experience the sound as a textural element rather than struggling for meaning, which serves the surprisingly meditative impact of the first half of the piece.

Around 32 minutes in, harmonic sounds start to grow out of the metallic grey of the noise, interwoven with disturbing industrial noises, resembling nothing so much as a score to a ‘60s science fiction movie. The most constant notes begin to sound like alarms, varied not in themselves but by the backdrop against which they’re placed. Further along, around the 41-minute mark, the sounds turn symphonic, this time made to sound more melodic because of the contrast with all that has come before. The music reaches a fevered urgency around 46 minutes in; alarm bells sound again a few minutes later. In the final minutes, one senses creatures swooping in onto a fully realized dark landscape.

And then it is over. And it is very, very quiet in your room. Too quiet.

You hit rewind.

#noise #noisemusic #noise music #harsh noise #noise rock #tapes #cassettes #tape label #oxbow #eugene Robinson #cassette label #ambient #illbient #psychedelic music #trippy #soundscape #soundscapes #dronenotdrones #drone music

[popularbiooff]

[jonathantaylorthomas]

Will she or won’t she? As the music world awaits the release of Taylor Swift’s new album, “Reputation,” on Friday, the industry has been preoccupied with a guessing game: Will it be immediately available on streaming services? With streaming now contributing nearly two-thirds of the revenue of the recording industry in the United States, few artists would even consider withholding their music from outlets like Spotify and Apple Music. Yet as the release date for “Reputation” approached, four executives at major streaming services said they did not expect the album to be made available for streaming, at least at first. But those executives, who spoke anonymously to protect private negotiations, said that plans could change at any time. When Ms. Swift released her last album, “1989,” three years ago, streaming was still an unproven format, and the defiant stances she took against Spotify and Apple over royalties and control were hailed as heroic wins for artists’ rights. But those battles have long since been settled; Ms. Swift starred in Apple commercials and returned her catalog to Spotify. So will her fans be able to find “Reputation” there — and on streaming outlets like Amazon and Tidal — on Friday? Or will they have to wait? Ms. Swift and her label, Big Machine, have not announced their plans, and a spokeswoman for the star declined to comment. The fact that Ms. Swift can keep the industry on edge shows her extraordinary power. Her apparent lack of commitment to streaming also shows that although streaming has taken over listening habits, it is still not fully embraced by artists as a satisfactory source of income. “Taylor Swift is one of few artists who has the combination of star power and fan cultivation to truly drive how her music is consumed,” said Vickie Nauman, an industry consultant and former digital music executive. The last big star to avoid streaming was Adele, who two years ago kept “25” from those platforms and had record-breaking sales. Ms. Swift also kept “1989” off streaming services, reaching a deal with Apple Music only after eight months; by that time, the album had sold five million copies via download and CD. By most analyses, these have been financial calculations: It would take 150 streams of every song on a 10-track album to equal the revenue of a single CD sale, according to standard industry estimates. Beyoncé, perhaps the only other comparable artist, has kept her latest record, “Lemonade,” from streaming on Apple and Spotify, but her reasons may be competitive — she is a partner in Tidal, the streaming service controlled by Jay-Z. “Reputation” seems to be following a similar strategy as “1989,” with much of its marketing campaign focused on sales. UPS trucks emblazoned with Ms. Swift’s face are poised to deliver copies of the CD, and Target will sell a special version of it with Taylor Swift-designed print magazines. Through a partnership with Ticketmaster, Ms. Swift has told fans that they can “boost your place in line” for tickets to her concert tour by purchasing CDs and merchandise. “I anticipate she will hold it from streaming until she hits some sales mark,” said Stephanie Kellar, an associate professor at the Berklee College of Music in Boston, “and then she will revisit that decision.” By contrast, many hip-hop albums, which now dominate streaming, do not release a CD version at first, potentially leaving money on the table. For those who have been watching Spotify closely, there have been signs of a lack of promotion of Ms. Swift’s music. When she released a new track, “Call It What You Want,” last week, the song did not appear on Spotify’s popular “New Music Friday” playlist. Graham James, a spokesman for Spotify, declined to comment on whether the service would have Ms. Swift’s album. When asked about the song’s absence from its playlist, he said, “Our policy is to work with artists and managers who want to work with us to connect with their millions of fans on Spotify.” Representatives for Apple, Amazon and Tidal declined to comment. For Ms. Swift, absence from streaming — where the bulk of listening now occurs, especially for young people — carries an additional risk of shunning the market. The album’s first single, “Look What You Made Me Do,” went to No. 1 and logged hundreds of millions of streams, but successive songs have missed the mark. “ … Ready for It?,” for example, released shortly thereafter, stalled at No. 4 and has been streamed a moderate 93 million times on Spotify. If Ms. Swift decides to withhold her music from streaming services, her lead may be followed by other artists, Professor Kellar said, but likely not with the same success. “She will not be the last one to do it,” she said, “but she is one of the few that can.”