Take a journey through the musical history of the Dark Knight with the help of ThePianoGuys- using a piano, cellos, and some very special cars. The journey from the Adam West era of “na na na na na na na na BATMAN!” to the Danny Elfman score to the modern day Nolan films is pretty incredible.
He lives in apartment in the past, along the beach, brings his lovelies over, to a modern apartment complex, but as he passes the gate to courtyard, time shifts, to the past and now he is waving at his landlady,as he goes up the porch of a large sea side house, going up to the attic apartment, over looking the ocean, the lovely spell bound, and the feeling grows as they enter the attic: beauty everywhere, sheets, pillows, draperies, wall hangings, sumptuous but simple, colorful but subdued, a space for the bed and its activities, with a big open window and small balcony for viewing and work, be it art or writing, casting or calling.
Chit chat ensues, this one not so flabbergasted as the others.
“So when are we?”
Good question…any others?
I’m not sure myself, I pick up a paper and it’s the thirties but not our thirties, this (he waves his hands around) is a part of a california republic, part of a larger conglomerate of nations stretching from Alaska to chile but it has a different name, and high I can’t pronounce, just seen it on a map in the paper. I don’t even know if it’s english I’m reading or just some translation formy eyes, you try, what do you see?
He hands her a newspaper, ”English, an article or two in Spanish and russian, and you?”
The same, huh, thought you might see it different.
"Never ask anyone else to look?"
They did, I didn’t ask, most just thought it was a weird paper.
"How’d you find this place?"
I wanted a new cheaper place but was dreaming of a place just like this, an attic with a big window and balcony, like something out of the crow or something at least and I was walking through my old neighborhood, and this is what I found.
“How’d you get back? And what did you say to the lady and what do you pay her?”
She asks for things, I basically barter for my rent, I get what she asks for, a plant pot here, a dress there, every once in a while a fancy piece of jewelry, sometimes she’ll wait months for me to save up… And sometimes it’s just food, exotic items mostly, but they all seem exotic to her, she is so excited to see, smell and eat them, you should see her.
"Maybe I will? You didn’t bring her anything this time?"
No, she knew I’d be gone for a while, we met at the airport right?
“You didn’t tell her, like you would your ma or grandma, or just to watch your stuff?”
Nah, I gave her a time table and she disnt ask, wasn’t worried about the rent and I got her a gift anyway, something I think she’d like…
You…nah, look…he pulls a ruby eyed elephant out of his back pack, and set it on the table. It’s filigreed with Arabic lettering and is green in color.
“Yeah, she like elephants?”
“No but she has a taste for the exotic.”
“And this is a gift? How do you afford…what do you do?”
I have a podcast, alternate california, a weekend report.
“Oh is that you? I thought you looked familiar.” Clears her throat and in an officious voice “the news and weeknd life from another california, around the corner, down the way,must out of sight… So this is it? This is real not from your imagination?”
Yeah, you got me, but the rest of my material outside of that podcast comes from here, points to his head, but this place can be an inspiration too, it’s not all dances with old ladies at the local grocery or reports from the war on the eastern half of the continent, or refugee reports from the same…
(Refugees leak through to “real” time and expand homeless and illiterate population? No violence or borders so spread quickly around us looking for work but not a handout)
Nifty? That’s all you can say? Oh you’re pulling my leg?!
“Too bad, you can always tell me more about this place, show me around, tonight or in the morning?…”
Morning it is
And the camera fades, but giggles are heard and the squeak of a spring, and the lady downstairs smile, laugh a soft little laugh and sips her coffee, bundled up for the cool breezes coming in off the ocean…
We live in a “diverse and often fractious country,” writes Robert Dawson, but there are some things that unite us—among them, our love of libraries. “A locally governed and tax-supported system that dispenses knowledge and information for everyone throughout the country at no cost to its patrons is an astonishing thing,” the photographer writes in the introduction to his book, The Public Library: A Photographic Essay. “It is a shared commons of our ambitions, our dreams, our memories, our culture, and ourselves.”
But what do these places look like? Over the course of 18 years, Dawson found out. Inspired by “the long history of photographic survey projects,” he traveled thousands of miles and photographed hundreds of public libraries in nearly all 50 states. Looking at the photos, the conclusion is unavoidable: American libraries are as diverse as Americans. They’re large and small, old and new, urban and rural, and in poor and wealthy communities. Architecturally, they represent a range of styles, from the grand main branch of the New York Public Library to the humble trailer that serves as a library in Death Valley National Park, the hottest place on Earth. “Because they’re all locally funded, libraries reflect the communities they’re in,” Dawson said in an interview. “The diversity reflects who we are as a people.”