A Thunderous Night
We were so pleased with ourselves in our last blog. We had dodged the storms here in Central Texas, which had gone slightly north of the My-Lynx Associates headquarters. The early evening listening session of one of the local AM radio staitions was peppered with the crackle of lightning and the radio static it produces which can be heard for 20 or more miles. We thought we were in for a big storm. We turned on the weather forecast and the Doppler radar showed that the storm had passed by about 20 miles north of us, and we were assured by the weather authority that with the waning of the heat of the day the chance for thunderstorms was all but gone. So we chimed in on our blog last night about the measly tiny drizzle that fell on the august environs of our world headquarters.
We were working past midnight on our new book acquisitions, and began a prolonged data transfer of vital information to help run our business. It cannot be interrupted once started and can take quite some time. So we turned off the brightly lit computer monitor to save some energy and turned in for the night in our nearby residence. Our ears perked up however after settling in under the covers and the sound of a distant dragon-like rumble. We scurried to the windows and pulled up the venetian blinds and saw the flashes of an oncoming storm. We nearly moaned with dismay since we could not unplug our computer without losing all the data we had squirreled away over a couple of hours.
Our habit is to disconnect our machinery from the power mains when lightning and thunder happen too close together to prevent the electronic components from being fried by a voltage surge induced by the powerful Texas lightning when it decides to travel along a power line. So we tried to pretend that it would not happen, that it would be an acceptable risk to allow the data transfer to continue. We put on our favorite MP3 player into our ears, and decided to put on a little music.
Big Mistake. We chose Richard Wagner's Tristan und Isolde, something we have never listened to for more than a few minutes, being that it is German Opera at its most Teutonic. And the thing about classical music, as a category and opera in particular, is that it always scares us a little, because the quiet passages are so somnolent, and the loud passages are so bombastic. And bombast is never so bombastic as with Wagner. And with the approaching thunder and the increasing power of the storm, we were having a little trouble distinguishing the sturm und drang in this opera (that would be storm and stress in German) from the "sturm" outside. And at 1:30 or 2 AM, one's still-groggy perception of reality during a storm can become a little attenuated, what with the flashing of light in the sky and the reflection of the blinding light on the walls through another layer of closed eyes, the thrumming of rain on the roof, and the worry about the download in the office.
We finally roused ourselves from our restless respite and unplugged some of our more delicate appliances, and the supplemental computer that we use. We noted that the download process was still in progress, so we decided to review, in the wee hours before dawn, the plot of Tristan und Isolde, and we remembered the story from some other research we had done during another sleepless night. It is about an Irish princess, in ancient times gone by, who is dragged from her happy home (in Ireland), and is set on a ship to be delivered by the loyal Tristan to his lord Marke. Somewhere along the line there is some love potion drunk and then the fun begins. It is speculated that the legend later became the basis for Galahad and Guinevere. We were in the midst of the storm listening to the selection "Erwache mir wieder, kühne Gewalt" where Isolde, in her rage, wishes the sea to rise up and swallow the ship they are sailing on into its depths so as to spare her honor. (Be stirred in me once again, bold power; rise up from my breast where you have lain concealed!)
Not exactly a cheerful story, abduction, unwilling subjugation, duty, honor and deceit. So the rest of the night was not very restful. But we remembered, not letting an opportunity pass us by, that we do have a book about Wagner which we will feature today in memory of our sleepless, stormy, night.
It is an antique copy of an English-language autobiography of Wagner. We might say "brand-new", but that might be a little much to believe, but it is a rare unread copy. The pages are still in their original state, having never been cut. In days gone by, books would be sold with the pages still joined, as they came from the printer, and for whatever reason this book has never felt the cut of the scissor.
We were working past midnight on our new book acquisitions, and began a prolonged data transfer of vital information to help run our business. It cannot be interrupted once started and can take quite some time. So we turned off the brightly lit computer monitor to save some energy and turned in for the night in our nearby residence. Our ears perked up however after settling in under the covers and the sound of a distant dragon-like rumble. We scurried to the windows and pulled up the venetian blinds and saw the flashes of an oncoming storm. We nearly moaned with dismay since we could not unplug our computer without losing all the data we had squirreled away over a couple of hours.
Our habit is to disconnect our machinery from the power mains when lightning and thunder happen too close together to prevent the electronic components from being fried by a voltage surge induced by the powerful Texas lightning when it decides to travel along a power line. So we tried to pretend that it would not happen, that it would be an acceptable risk to allow the data transfer to continue. We put on our favorite MP3 player into our ears, and decided to put on a little music.
Big Mistake. We chose Richard Wagner's Tristan und Isolde, something we have never listened to for more than a few minutes, being that it is German Opera at its most Teutonic. And the thing about classical music, as a category and opera in particular, is that it always scares us a little, because the quiet passages are so somnolent, and the loud passages are so bombastic. And bombast is never so bombastic as with Wagner. And with the approaching thunder and the increasing power of the storm, we were having a little trouble distinguishing the sturm und drang in this opera (that would be storm and stress in German) from the "sturm" outside. And at 1:30 or 2 AM, one's still-groggy perception of reality during a storm can become a little attenuated, what with the flashing of light in the sky and the reflection of the blinding light on the walls through another layer of closed eyes, the thrumming of rain on the roof, and the worry about the download in the office.
We finally roused ourselves from our restless respite and unplugged some of our more delicate appliances, and the supplemental computer that we use. We noted that the download process was still in progress, so we decided to review, in the wee hours before dawn, the plot of Tristan und Isolde, and we remembered the story from some other research we had done during another sleepless night. It is about an Irish princess, in ancient times gone by, who is dragged from her happy home (in Ireland), and is set on a ship to be delivered by the loyal Tristan to his lord Marke. Somewhere along the line there is some love potion drunk and then the fun begins. It is speculated that the legend later became the basis for Galahad and Guinevere. We were in the midst of the storm listening to the selection "Erwache mir wieder, kühne Gewalt" where Isolde, in her rage, wishes the sea to rise up and swallow the ship they are sailing on into its depths so as to spare her honor. (Be stirred in me once again, bold power; rise up from my breast where you have lain concealed!)
Not exactly a cheerful story, abduction, unwilling subjugation, duty, honor and deceit. So the rest of the night was not very restful. But we remembered, not letting an opportunity pass us by, that we do have a book about Wagner which we will feature today in memory of our sleepless, stormy, night.
It is an antique copy of an English-language autobiography of Wagner. We might say "brand-new", but that might be a little much to believe, but it is a rare unread copy. The pages are still in their original state, having never been cut. In days gone by, books would be sold with the pages still joined, as they came from the printer, and for whatever reason this book has never felt the cut of the scissor.
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