My ballet instructor, Julie Powell, surprised me yesterday by asking me to switch to Tuesdays and Thursdays next semester. I demurred. She told me it was easier for the other accompanist to do the Mondays and Wednesdays since she drove from Muskegon and would benefit from back to back scheduling. I told Julie that I would be glad to drop out for a semester.
If that happens it could be the end of my work as a ballet accompanist which is fine. It’s midly disappointing not to be so “wonderful” at what I do that they would want to keep me on. But the prospect of free time outweighs for me the enjoyable work, online resources access and meager pay.
I have told Eileen if she thinks we need the money ($25 an hour) I will do the switch next semester. She is thinking on it.
At any rate the access to online resources will probaby continue for a while. I think they renew it annually.
My copy of Alone Together arrived yesterday. I was not happy to see underlining in it.
I try to purchase used books in as pristine condition as possible so that I myself can write in them. The underlining is very light and in pencil. It seems the previous reader mostly underlined words, presumably ones that he/she needed to either clarify the meaning of or think about.
After copying my notes from my library copy of the book, I read my own copy this morning with an eraser in hand. Not sure I will have the motivation to keep reading it like that.
Joplin and Bolcolm’s “Ghost Rag” kept creeping into my improvs yesterday. This beautiful music is on my mind for some reason. My brother gave me a bunch of files when I visited him. I made a playlist of the first CD of Alan Lomax’s wonderful collection of American music: Sounds of the South: A musical journey from the Georgia sea islands to the Mississippi delta.
For some reason, American sounds interest me greatly right now. I am enjoying listening to this CD (Thank you, Mark!) I have long admired Alan Lomax and his father John Lomax for their groundbreaking work in documenting the music people make in their lives.
Eleen is planning to drive up and see her Mom today. Dorothy (her mom) has been having some physical problems, swelling of her feet which is connected to some heart function which is failing (the upper chambers). Dorothy is 90 and still living alone. Eileen’s sister, Nancy, drops by every day and is very involved in making sure Dorothy is okay.
We left our Boggle game at Mark’s and Leigh’s house. Boggle has become a regular pastime for Eileen and me. Yesterday morning I drove early to Meijer to see if I could buy one. No luck. Eventually Eileen and I located a copy of “Big Boggle” at the local toy store and went and bought it in time to play after lunch (our favorite time for this activity).
Eileen trounced me yesterday at this new version which has more letter cubes.
Quotes from this morning’s reading
“One must sell it to someone, this sacred name of love.” James Joyce, Finnegans Wake
This leaped out at me. Commodification is such a constant drumbeat these days.
In “King Lear” (which I am slowly reading in the mornig as well) when the Duke of Cornwall asks the beleagured but honest (and supposedly exiled) Earl of Kent why his is angry, Kent replies referring to Cornwall himelf (and for some reason reminding me of some Facebooger conversation):
“That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty: such smiling rogues as these,
Like rats oft bite the holy cords a-twain,
Which are too intrinse t’unloose: smooth every passion
That in the natures of their Lords rebel,
Bring oil to fire, snow to the colder moods,
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale, and vary of their masters,
Knowing nought (like dogs) but following:
A plague upon your epileptic visage,
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?”
This is goofy. I bookmarked it to finish reading it because it’s so long.
Lecture Me. Really. – The New York Times
The argument for clear lucid lectures that outline an argument.
Making Pesto? Hold the Pine Nuts – The New York Times
I usually can’t afford the pine nuts anyway.