Tuesday 26 February 2008

Earthquake at 00:56 a.m. Did the Earth Move for You?

Breaking news....
Here I am at the forefront of a news story...
My house just shook... Wobbled, Rattled.. Hummed...
Low frequency sound, vibration, and a very strange feeling...
Unease, foreboding, maybe this is what spooks animals in these circumstances.

Timed at about 00:56 a.m. Duration about twenty seconds.

It took a while of searching seismographs online... yes, there are some.. The British Geological Survey's site was too busy.
It seems there was a quake measuring approx 5.2 on the Richter scale, about 40 miles west-south-west of here.
Much of England had a brief wobble along with it.
Ho hum. Nothing seems to have fallen down.
Move along, nothing to see here folks...................

Oh. And Reuters are reporting no major injuries or damage reported- at half an hour after the event.
They're probably right, but. I suspect they're a bit quick in publishing, because if there were major chaos going on, I think it might take longer than that to check and say everything is fine.
Back to bed then.
Good Night All.

Data from USGS http://earthquake.usgs.gov/eqcenter/
Location53.321°N, 0.314°W
Depth10 km (6.2 miles) set by location program
Distances50 km (30 miles) S of Kingston upon Hull, England, UK
70 km (45 miles) NE of Nottingham, England, UK
80 km (50 miles) E of Sheffield, England, UK
205 km (125 miles) N of LONDON, United Kingdom
Location Uncertaintyhorizontal +/- 6.8 km (4.2 miles); depth fixed by location program
ParametersNST= 50, Nph= 50, Dmin=291.4 km, Rmss=1.02 sec, Gp= 54°,
M-type=body magnitude (Mb), Version=7
Event IDus20

British Geological Survey Seismology Report later in the day gives magnitude as 5.2 richter.
27 February 2008
England hit by Earthquake
The British Geological Survey (BGS) recorded an earthquake with a magnitude of 5.2 (ML) on the Richter scale near Market Rasen, Lincolnshire at 00:56 GMT. The BGS has been inundated with calls from the public, media and emergency services throughout England.
DATE : 27 February 2008
LAT/LONG : 53.39° North / 0.35° West
GRID REF : 509.9 kmE / 389.0 kmN
DEPTH : 10 km
MAGNITUDE : 5.2 Richter Scale (ML)
LOCALITY : Market Rasen, Lincolnshire

Saturday 23 February 2008

Like Trains of Cars on Tracks of Plush -Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry

Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.

His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee’s experience
Of clovers and of noon!

Thursday 14 February 2008

Top Gear Again.

You may recall I earlier posted the guys from BBC's 'Top Gear' programme, risking their lives poking fun at rednecks?
Well, last night I was watching an episode of their show where the three presenters had a challenge, to buy a 1970s british 'classic' car...
(for classic, merely read 'one that has not quite finished falling apart yet') and submit it to a series of increasingly silly endurance tests. Here is the final one.

I think my old landrover would beat even Jeremy's rover, in the rate at which water fell out of the bottom. Maybe I should put the floor screws back in.

Thursday 7 February 2008

"No Mule's Fool" Family, 1970

"No Mule's Fool"
A dusty day in this old town
A hazy yellow eye looks down
A buzzing bee's the only lazy sound

I take grass, he hits the hay
The two of us drift through the day
A butterfly, a sigh, and it's flick away

Know we're lazy, lots of people say so
But one day they're gonna see
We're only doing whatever makes us happy
We're sitting here, me and mule
We make our own rules, and it's cool

I know I'm lazy, lots of people say so
But one day they're gonna see
We're only doing whatever makes us happy
We're sitting here, me and mule
We're nobody's fool, and it's cool

Close my eyes, yeah I feel alright
Yeah, must be close to 95
Got my shade from a good old hat made of hide

One more day in God's good sun
And we won't move for anyone
Spend your lazy days and ways just turning on

I'm looking down, there's my old mule
A stubborn nag, but no, no one's fool
He's my only friend and he's cool

My old mule, nobody's fool

Wednesday 6 February 2008

Curved Air- Vivaldi

Curved Air
Named after a piece of music by composer Terry Riley, "A Rainbow in Curved Air."
Einstein, and the concept of curved space, were probably involved too. This piece of music was on the first album, Air Conditioning.
It was also the second album ever to be released as a picture disc. I bought one in 1970......... still have it, somewhere, I think.
HA! damn thing won't fit into the slot in my CD-DVD drive........
Just think, to today's student youth, these things are as baffling and archaic as Edison's phonograph's wax rolls were to me.
Yet, come the collapse of our electric world, I could still, with a pointy bristle, and a cone of leaves, get music out of the old vinyl. Try that with your ipods, kids, when there's no electricity, and no more lithium batteries..........

The video on this is really crummy. I'd recommend closing your eyes.
I'm willing to bet my regular visitors will be underwhelmed.

But I like it.

Sunday 3 February 2008

The Poems I Have Not Written -John Brehm

I’m so wildly unprolific, the poems
I have not written would reach
from here to the California coast
if you laid them end to end.

And if you stacked them up,
the poems I have not written
would sway like a silent
Tower of Babel, saying nothing

and everything in a thousand
different tongues. So moving, so
filled with and emptied of suffering,
so steeped in the music of a voice

speechless before the truth,
the poems I have not written
would break the hearts of every
woman who’s ever left me,

make them eye their husbands
with a sharp contempt and hate
themselves for turning their backs
on the very source of beauty.

The poems I have not written
would compel all other poets
to ask of God: "Why do you
let me live? I am worthless.

please strike me dead at once,
destroy my works and cleanse
the earth of all my ghastly
imperfections." Trees would

bow their heads before the poems
I have not written. "Take me,"
they would say, "and turn me
into your pages so that I

might live forever as the ground
from which your words arise."
The wind itself, about which
I might have written so eloquently,

praising its slick and intersecting
rivers of air, its stately calms
and furious interrogations,
its flutelike lingerings and passionate

reproofs, would divert its course
to sweep down and then pass over
the poems I have not written,
and the life I have not lived, the life

I’ve failed even to imagine,
which they so perfectly describe.

Back to the Machine Gun Charles Bukowski

I awaken about noon and go out to get the mail
in my old torn bathrobe.
I'm hung over
hair down in my eyes
gingerly walking on the small sharp rocks
in my path
still afraid of pain behind my four-day beard.

the young housewife next door shakes a rug
out of her window and sees me:
"hello, Hank!"

god damn! it's almost like being shot in the ass
with a .22

"hello," I say
gathering up my Visa card bill, my Pennysaver coupons,
a Dept. of Water and Power past-due notice,
a letter from the mortgage people
plus a demand from the Weed Abatement Department
giving me 30 days to clean up my act.

I mince back again over the small sharp rocks
thinking, maybe I'd better write something tonight,
they all seem
to be closing in.

there's only one way to handle those motherfuckers.

the night harness races will have to wait.