melancholy jupe

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Melancholy hit me pretty hard yesterday. When that happens I sometimes go into a stall of not being motivated. Fortunately my actions don’t depend on motivation. As I keep saying, I need some time off. Eileen is busily trying to get work done on the house. A man was suppose to come last night to do some preliminary work for us before the furnace can be installed, but he did not show. The furnace is scheduled to be replaced next week. I have to clear out my very cluttered workroom in the basement. This installation means if I want Eileen to come with me I have to wait until after that is installed to get away. I do want Eileen to come with me though she has told me I could go without her.

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I have started reserving time for people to practice on the Pasi. This means that today there is a window of 45 minutes that I can sneak in and do some practice myself before lunch. After lunch, I meet with Rev Jen, then give a piano lesson, then meet Rhonda for some duet playing.

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In a pathetic attempt to throw off some of my melancholy, I pulled out Ned Rorem’s journals. Specifically, Setting The Tone: Essays and a Diary (1983). He writes “composers approach music from the inside out.” This admirably expresses what I sometimes feel. I think of myself more as someone who likes to make music up. I do think that the “insides” of music is something that has been a life long interest of mine.

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quotes

from Madness, Rack, and Honey: collected lectures by Mary Ruefle

“The highest levels of consciousness are wordless.” Charles Simic, quoted by Mary Ruefle

“Like the aircraft used for lunar launches, good books only look heavy and slow: their speed depends on their internal engines and where they are pointed. ” Mary Ruefle

from We Too Had Known Golden Hours by WH Auden

“All words like Peace and Love,
All sane affirmative speech,
Had been soiled, profaned, debased
To a horrid mechanical screech.”

In his commentary on this poem, John Fuller says that Auden is writing about the debasement of poetry, but It reminds me of our president.

from Unpack Poetic by Trevino L. Brings Plenty | Poetry Magazine

“Speak of Soul? Sounds like a grifter’s hustle. Don’t do it.”