Luke and I were looking at Hieronymus Bosch’s painting The Garden of Earthly Delights and discovered, much to our amusement, music written upon the posterior of one of the many tortured denizens of the rightmost panel of the painting which is intended to represent Hell. I decided to transcribe it into modern notation, assuming the second line of the staff is C, as is common for chants of this era.
so yes this is LITERALLY the 600-years-old butt song from hell
EDIT: I still can’t believe this took off like it did this is crazy??? Just wanted to let people know that there are indeed errors in the transcription and this is indeed not a very good recording (I threw this together in like 30 minutes at 1 in the morning,) but I’m working with the music department at my college to get the transcription more accurate!
in the meantime enjoy this fantastic choral arrangement by wellmanicuredman i’m in love
YOU BIG DISGRACE
don’t faff about with the guy in shades, oh no
I keep starting personal messages to a few of you but can’t seem to send them because I give up before clicking a button. I’ve been MIA for a while and so out of the loop so who would listen anyway, right?
Whatever. I am pretty sure that I’m depressed. Like, literally lay in bed for hours on end reading fucking Metafilter and Something Awful and watching The Thick of It on repeat for days at a time depressed. Leaving the house is a fucking chore. When I’m arsed to go out (only after being repeatedly invited), I drink to excess (no, really, I recently made a complete ass of myself in front of my new advisor, and it was not cute). I feel like a perennial fifth wheel, and that any ideas or thoughts or contributions I could make are worthless and terrible and I’m being judged at every waking fucking moment. I can’t find motivation to take care of the thousand things I am supposed to be doing. The things I have accomplished this summer were put off for so long that I only feel I’ve marginally failed at them, instead of the complete omnishambles (see?) they would’ve been with no direction. My not-drugs drugs (all the 5htp I can eat, well, not really but a pretty high dose) are not helping. I’ve started getting crippling panic attacks virtually every time I need to fulfill a professional obligation.
I went and sought short-term treatment on campus because it was free, and all the fucking relaxation techniques in the world didn’t really dent it. I guess I could scrounge up money to do more fucking CBT homework sheets but in all honesty I feel like therapy is useless in that I want to somehow outwit my shrinks, which defeats the whole fucking purpose and makes me seem non-compliant at best and borderline at worst. I don’t even know why I’m being public here with all of this — maybe some stupid hope a kind soul will send me some ativan over the mail. But I’m at a loss. I can’t relax. I can’t sleep regular, normal sleep. I haven’t worked out in a g-ddamned year which is both super irritating and super deflating. I’ve lost steam, and have this fucking grad program to start in three weeks and what? I’m expected to stand up in front of people and give direction and be an inspiration and I cannot get out of bed. I cannot make a choice. I overthink and catastrophize and all-or-nothing every little fucking thing until my authority is completely sapped and I’ve lost all credibility, leading others to make my decisions for me. I feel powerless. I feel so incredibly lazy. I feel worthless, that any contribution I could make has already been made by someone who can a) sell it; and b) fucking follow through.
This isn’t one of those “don’t cry for me I’m already dead” sorts of things, because frankly I have that depressive-guilt “but it’ll hurt your husband/dog/friends so much if you died” albatross as it is. But help.
NO SERIOUSLY WHO DO I HAVE TO BLOW AROUND HERE TO GET SOME FUCKING LORAZEPAM
THIS WHOLE SUMMER HAS BEEN A COMPLETE G-DDAMNED WASTE
So, uh, I need a drag mother. Any takers?
OH MY G-D
ALSO I WAS RECENTLY IN MANHATTAN AND DIDN’T HOOK UP WITH ANY OF YOU BUT DID GO TO A NON-SKETCHY SKETCHY BAR IN HELL’S KITCHEN WHERE SOME POOR MUSICAL THEATRE WANNABE GOT A FREE DRUNKEN VOICE LESSON FROM YOURS TRULY
PS IT’S COMPS WEEK