Today is the last choir Sunday at church. I am very weary this morning. Yesterday’s two hour confirmation service was very tiring. I came home and attempted to rest. My brain seemed tired as well as my body.
I received many compliments yesterday after the service. The confirmation/reception section of the service did take quite a long time. I led the congregation through several hymns and also improvised to fill up this time.
I had a couple of weird moments. One of which was when someone came up from behind me and put his hands over my eyes saying he wouldn’t ask me to guess who he was. He hugged me and then realized he didn’t know me. Silly priest. He must know someone else who puts their hair in a fuzzy bun like me.
Another odd thing was that a colleague who introduced himself to me before the service disappeared without a word afterwards. Maybe I’m thin skinned but it would seem to me that unless he was called away early it would have been polite to say hello after such a long service.
It is probable that he joined the list of organists I have been horrifying lately. I don’t suspect my organ playing horrified him, although that’s possible especially my unorthodox treatment of hymns and their interludes (it took forever to get through the processional hymn – 89 people plus sponsors). More likely my gospel piano playing would have struck him as rough or unrefined. Probably the same playing which I suspect inspired many of my compliments.
Who knows?
I was so exhausted that I had little reaction to the rejection letter I received from Augsburg for an organ piece I had submitted for them to consider. It’s not a piece I share on the web site because Augsburg’s people contacted me about using their copyrighted hymn tune without permission in it so I took it down.
I admit that I am looking forward to the choral season ending. I have been too long without vacation, grabbing little bits of time off here and there but then plunging back in to work and burn out without proper time off.
Surely after today I can find some time to truly recuperate from this last exhausting year.
A copy of the letter Auden wrote to his rector upset at the debasement of language. Ultimately the conservatives were a bit wrong about this stuff. For example, the “thees and thous” they wanted retained had weirdly shifted their original meaning from intimacy to formality. Incidentally this letter appears on the tumbler/blog of the author of The Book of Common Prayer: A Biography, Alan Jacobs.
So it turns out that the penciled-in notes in my ten volume Longo version of Scarlatti’s sonatas were not penciled in by the venerable Craigly Cramer my teacher of yore. He wrote me recently in an email that he “brokered them for a guy in Maryland.” The penciled notes in it are still very interesting and actually helpful. I guess if I had given it much thought I would have realized that my aesthetic around Scarlatti is probably not Craig’s.
***
In fact, my aesthetic differs from most organists I have met. I used the term, “renegade,” when meeting some recently. “Renegade”is probably a good word for me.
I know that one respectable member of the international liturgical jet set (as he himself put it) helped me understand myself when he said to me that I confuse people because I’m one of a kind.
One of a kind, not easily categorized… Hey! I’m Different I Don’t Care Who Knows It! (I do love this song by Newman. When Newman thanks the bluebirds singing in it I can only see him strutting through a disney cartoon.)
Playing the Widor Toccata recently in the same room with Craig Cramer and other organists, I realized that they probably were all horrified to hear me play such fluff on fine and inappropriate instruments.
However I did play it on all three instruments for my organ committee to hear.
I also played some Buxtehude and led the committee through a couple hymns of their choosing at each instrument. Helpful for them to hear the same music on different instruments. I will be performing some of this music this weekend (the Buxtehude pieces) for the Confirmation service Saturday and the Eucharist on Sunday.
Recently there was a discussion (disparaging of course) about the Widor Toccata on Facebook. One of my old colleagues who was not primarily an organist when I knew her was confessing to finally learning it. The organists and others of course piled on about what a piece of “fluff” it is.
I defended using music that listeners might recognize and appreciate and ended up being Steve “Fluff”Jenkins in that conversation.
I am at peace with that and also the horror of other organists (if indeed it exists). I find that being one of a kind often means that I lose credibility with people.
Could it be that I try to lead with content and not address perceptions of others? And/or I look goofy and don’t remind people constantly of my expertise and instead try to play well as I can and think as clearly as I can?
Nah.
I would love to have a common language with colleagues but if it is not to be I am still very happy to connect to the world of the arts via playing and reading alone.
This has been my mood for the last few days. I know it’s an odd one.
I think my reflective mood was intensified by the odd experience of seeing a plaque commemorating someone I knew at Notre Dame.
I met Gail around 1985 at my audition for the grad department at ND. She was a formidable musician and a gracious presence. I remember fretting in Craig’s office (she was his wife) about how poorly I thought my audition had went. Gail reassured Eileen and me that I would get the TA.(TA = Teaching Assistantship. This meant free tuition and a generous stipend).She was right.
The then director of the the chapel choir was kind of a creep. Craig was furious with him for mistreating Gail. The guy would do things like give Gail accompaniments at the last minute. Difficult ones. He just generally bad mouthed fucked over colleagues and Gail was his accompanist.
My TA was to replace Gail in this function. I’m not sure what she did then besides teaching a bit at at ND. But I experienced the same thing she did. It was not a nice thing, really. Craig later rewarded me with a cushy second year TA.
Gail used to stick her head in the practice room during my lesson with Craig and ask why she didn’t hear any playing. Craig and I constantly bullshat at lessons. Eventually she got the creepy guy’s position and became the music director for the chapel at Notre Dame. This is kind of a prestigious position. She converted to Catholicism (surprising to me). She died from some horrible disease. Her funeral was a high blown mass at the chapel there. Eileen and I drove down for it.
All this is to say that seeing Gail in a bronze plaque reinforced my own feelings of isolation in the future.
“Living in today’s complex world of the future is a little like having bees live in your head. But, there they are.” Firesign Theater
There are still some overlaps in my aesthetics with other musicians. But I still feel more in conversation with musicians ,composers and writers that I read, play, play with and listen to. I do keep attempting to connect with living musicians. But my own interests are so broad that I’m certain to offend other’s sensibility (Widor horrifies some, Buxtehude confuses or bores my pop colleagues or lay listeners…. I have zillions of these kinds of examples).
Yesterday the organ committee at my church did a road trip to hear a few organs. Although spouses were invited, I was the only one to bring mine. Also my friend, Rhonda Edgington, came along. I’m posting a few pics here for those who don’t facebooger since these were all on Facebook. The pic above actually was taken by Kevin Vaughan the teacher at Goshen. I noticed that he has limited his privacy settings and I suspect this pic is not available to many even though I shared it on the Grace Music Ministry page. The organ is by Taylor and Boody and is my favorite of the instruments we heard and played yesterday.
Before going to Goshen we stopped at Notre Dame and listened to a Paul Fritts instrument. Above is the committee sitting below and enjoying the sound of the instrument.
This is my boss on the left (Jen Adams) and Rhonda on the bench of the Fritts. Rhonda and I both played the instruments we visited. I also encouraged committee members to press a few notes and feel the difference in touch from an electro pneumatic.
After hearing three instruments, my boss treated us all to supper at the South Side Soda Shop in Goshen, a very fun place to eat with solid American cuisine.
One of its claims to fame is that it was featured on “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives” on the Food Network.
It was also featured in a Steve Buscemi film, “Lonesome Jim.”
It’s famous.
It was a nice ride back and forth on a beautiful day. We took two cars down. In our car, we had good conversations on the way down and on the way back I read Flannery O’Connor and George Orwell on my Kindle.
I am still struggling with a bit of burn out. Yesterday I set myself several tasks for work: Plan Trinity Sunday, choose organ music for same, point the psalm, request again the format and hymns for this Saturday’s confirmation service I am playing, put together a reimbursement request for a bunch of money I have spent on music and wining/dining the Taylor and Boody guys when they were here, get a sub for July 6, find online pictures of organs by the four builders we have contacted and send them to the boss so she can make posters of them.
In between I had lunch scheduled with two colleagues from the AGO and a meeting with a parishioner who is going to play a little hammered dulcimer on Sunday’s Pentecost Anthem.
I bogged down in trying to get the stuff together for Trinity. Spent the rest of the day feeling behind. It was pleasant to meet with colleagues and the hammered dulcimer player, but I felt off balance most of the day. I did finish several of the tasks, but I am planning to do the reimbursement list this morning and possibly the online pics.
I meet with the boss at 1PM and then the organ committee and friends is meeting at 2 PM to leave on a field trip to South Bend and Goshen to hear some organs.
I desperately need some time off.
I did manage to get a sub for July 6. Eileen has asked me to take off three weekends this summer. One to travel to Calif to see my son and his fam, one to spend at the Grayling cabin with my brother and his fam, one to fly away to Beijing to see our new grandkid who will be born by then.
We both noticed that this isn’t quite the same as taking some time off together. We should be able to do some of that during the week as soon as my schedule clears up.
I spent a good portion of my morning Greek studies clarifying in my own mind the difference between the optative and subjunctive mood. This link to is to a description of a method a teacher used to teach them which I found kind of cool.
This is a good article by Brooks. He draws on an interview with child psychologist Adam Phillips (linked in the article) for wisdom regarding how to deal with the distractions of technology.
Good quote sums it up:
“The information universe tempts you with mildly pleasant but ultimately numbing diversions. The only way to stay fully alive is to dive down to your obsessions six fathoms deep. Down there it’s possible to make progress toward fulfilling your terrifying longing, which is the experience that produces the joy.”
I like this because obsessing is pretty much how I approach much of my use of the interwebs (see link 1 today for an example).
This led Eileen and I to talk about how our devices affect our relationship. She fears that she buries herself in her phone a lot. I pointed out that since she has retired recently we have much more time together and that generally it’s not been the difficult transition that many couples go through around retirement.
Krugman keeps banging away on the confusion and disingenuous nature of the denial of the extremes in our society.
” [I]nequality denial persists, for pretty much the same reasons that climate change denial persists: there are powerful groups with a strong interest in rejecting the facts, or at least creating a fog of doubt.”
I called my doctor’s office yesterday to schedule my pre-checkup blood work. I found out that the doctor needed to reschedule my semi annual check up. So instead of seeing her in a couple of weeks, I will be seeing her in August.
This is a kind of a reprieve for me because I have vainly been trying to shed the four or five pounds I have gained since my last appointment. Cool.
In order to do this, I have to cut back on my drinking (which is also healthy for me, no doubt), since I have a habit of having several glass of wine every evening and then snacking as I do so.
Of course I illogically celebrated this reprieve with a backyard martini with my lovely wife last night.
Oy vey.
Reading in Bach: Music in the Castle of Heaven by Gardiner yesterday I discovered a fun fact.
I was aware that Bach made his famous visit to Marienkirche in Lübeck, where Buxtehude presided over a fascinating music program. I also knew that Bach had decided not to accept the offer of being Buxtehude’s successor at his gig. This is largely attributed to the fact that one of the stipulations was that the successor was to marry Buxtehude’s daughter.
I did not know that Handel and Johann Mattheson (a composer who was more well known then than now) had also considered and rejected the post.
“‘Handel came to Hamburg in the summer of 1703 rich only in ability and good intentions,’ Mattheson characteristically wrote later. ‘I was almost the first with whom he made acquaintance. I took him round to all the choirs and organs here, and introduced him to operas and concerts.’ [Mattheson, Grundlage einer Ehren-Pforte 1740] In August they travelled together to Lübeck — full of camaraderie and bravado, and trying to outsmart each other composing ‘numerous double fugues in the carriage’ — ostensibly to audition for Buxtehude’s post as organist of the Marienkirche. But there was a snag: marriage to the outgoing organist’s mature daughter was apparently part of the deal, and they both shied away, neither feeling ‘the smallest inclination’ in that department.”
This is from Gardiner’s cleverly entitled chapter: “The Class of ’85.”
In this chapter, he remarks not only on the three composers born in the same year of 1685: Bach, Handel and Scarlatti, but also points to other of their contemporaries who also were born at about the same time: Telemann,
Mattheson,
and Rameau.
Gardiner is making a point that of this promising generation, Bach was the longest shot to gain posterity’s imprimatur.
I discovered another Google tool this morning: the Google NGram.
It will apparently search a database of 5.2 million books for a word or phrase and then graph it’s appearance.
It was footnoted in The Biography of the Book of Common Prayer by Alan Jacobs.
It amuses me that I keep stumbling across stuff reading this arcane little book.
My reading habits are changing. I take this as another good sign of ebbing burnout. When living through the stress of my work year (ballet, choir), I tend to begin the day with mental challenge. This means reading non-fiction and lately working on my Greek skills.
Then I read fiction later in the day and even in the evening. I guess I do this to distract myself. My emotional speed has slowed and intensified as I’ve aged. Being with people increases my lack of equilibrium for whatever reason. When i’m burned out, this is even more the case.
So dipping into fiction whether escape reading or just solid writing helps me.
I have noticed that lately I am returning to non-fiction as the day wears on.
Part of this is a thirst for some good solid music history reading in addition to my weird attachment to liturgy and religious history.
I say weird because it is practically involuntary. It sort of sneaks up on me that I am reading both a bio of Thomas Cramner (the dude primarily responsibly for the original Anglican Book of Common Prayer)
and a “bio” of the Prayer Book itself.
I also have pulled out my copy of The First and Second Prayer Book of Edward VI
and Marian Hatchett’s wonderful Commentary on the American Prayer Book.
The Reverend Marion Josiah Hatchett, Th.D 1927 – 2009
After all this religious reading, I find myself returning to a couple of music history books: Domenico Scarlatti by Ralph Kirkpatrick and Bach: Music in the Castle of Heaven by John Eliot Gardiner.
I have also ordered a bio of Buxtehude by Kerala Snyder.
I’m also reading some fiction titles. The Stone Gods by Jeanette Winterson which seems to be sort of a lesbian robot romance sci fi romp.
Also I noticed a title by Anthony Burgess whose plot I couldn’t readily recall, One Hand Clapping.
Excellent. I’m on page 119 of 216.
All of this brings me to a quote I read this morning in the Chilton Powell intro to Hatchett: “Anamnesis is the antithesis of amnesia.” Powell is actually quoting Hatchett himself.
The word, anamnesis, has a special meaning in liturgy. But the OED gives its original meaning first: “The recalling of things past; recollection, reminiscence.”
Living in the present cacophony of incoherence, polemic and fuzzy thinking,it is useful to recall that history is our memory. Remembering is the opposite of permanent forgetfulness. These ideas become very real when one is facing aging, but they are still important to any society that wishes to function.
So figuring out the past via some historical books makes sense to me as a continuing task before all my brain cells forget everything. Heh.
Couldn’t resist posting this link on Facebooger. I have been noticing the superficiality combined with weird anger that peppers most partisan posting I read on Facebook. I attempt to follow people I disagree with it, so it’s a bit of mix. Few people are using their brains. But maybe that’s the definition of social media, eh?
I was surprised to read that both Boehner and Pelosi regarded this as a mistake. I agree with them. However our learned leaders through him under the bus.
When this article mentions that the “integration” of the armed forces was actually linited to allowing complete separate sections of either white or black it reminded me of the church of my childhood. The denomination of the Church of God was then about half and half black and white, but there were few integrated congregations. This is probably still the case.
Interesting article. I often read comments. I found this one helpful:
“as an avid reader of books who was also once a well-paid, well-trained, International Typographical Union member and typesetter of books I can tell you from experience that the idea of maximizing profits at the expense of the consumer is nothing new in the publishing business. With the advent and marriage of phototypography to computerized digital typesetting the actual cost of typesetting a book went to zero, because the authors themselves did the actual typesetting while they typed their final draft and saved it to disk. Editing and other alterations to the text were likewise done “in-house” which eliminated further cost to the book production process. The happy result for publishers: Book prices skyrocketed and so did profits. Publishers never passed the savings onto their customers”
I love this: “A spokesman for the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority said that an incline elevator had been at its Metro rail station in Huntington, Va., since 1983, but that the agency was now unsure why it had been installed.” The author of the article uses this in his conclusion as a possible result of the No. 7 elevator installation. Heh.
Working out retirement finances when one’s life income has been modest can be challenging. Yesterday over breakfast at the Civic Center (a fund raiser for DeGraaf Nature Center), Eileen and I pored over our records for the month of May and and the first four months of this year.
We have been helped by a phone app which allows me to enter all expenditures and then complies handy statistics and graphs.
Surprisingly, if we tighten our belt a bit, we will have all debt paid off by December (except for some travel expenditures this year which we then can repay with freed up income).
It’s all very grown-up.
The circumstances of my well being have never been a problem for me. Part of this I know is my own privileged circumstances. I am white, male, and brought up in the middle class. But also I have been content with less than what many might feel is necessary in the area of having a place to sleep, eat, read and practice.
The challenge was providing for my kids. That seems to have come off pretty good. I received a great deal of help in this area from the generosity of individuals to the churches which have provided (and are still providing me) a modest livelihood.
The truth is that I have to try to be grown up in my concerns and actions because my impulses are centered more on what I have found meaningful in life: loving family and friends, the arts and creating.
For example yesterday also included several hours practicing and reading. I finished off playing through the ninth volume of Scarlatti’s Essercizi (So called “exercises’ but really two sectioned sonata type pieces).
I purchased the ten volume set from my former teacher, Craig Cramer. I love used music. In this case, Craig (or someone else) made clear extensive and helpful notes in the music.
The drawback to this edition is that is very early. It was done by Longo (whose name also graces the first numbering system of Scarlatti’s 500 or so extant Essercizi).
Alessandro Longo
As was the practice of his time, Longo added many accretions: dynamics, articulations, and even changes of notes. To use his edition with the knowledge of how these pieces were originally notated is to ignore a lot of information in front of you.
Craig has penciled in the Kirkpatrick numbers, the page in the Kenneth Gilbert edition (which is probably the currently definitive one) and cross references to Kirpatrick’s monumental bio of Scarlatti and his works.
Cool beans.
When I finish playing through volume ten my plan at this point is to turn around and play through all the volumes again. The music is wonderful.
After Scarlatti, I pulled out my Brahms and played several pieces. Again wonderful music.
It may be that the sheer volume of all that is available these days causes people like myself who are interested in historical music, poetry and books that deal with the difficult to feel that our interests are fading and marginal.
This must be illusory. But this illusion is reinforced when popular culture is so loud, academic culture so narrow-minded, and those we come in contact so distant and uninterested in things like classical music and poetry and articulate writing.
It can feel a bit like being squeezed. Or maybe the parts that I love that others don’t is squeezing out those things.
Is this what aging means? Could be. Common points of reference diminish to the point that it is often better to be silent than attempt to explain one’s reaction.
As my friend, the ballet instructor, said to me last term when I was trying to explain something with a cultural reference, “You might as well be speaking Chinese.”
I liked that. Partially because two people I care deeply about (daughter Elizabeth and her significant other Jeremy) do speak Chinese.
Anyway.
Yesterday Eileen’s back was hurting so I helped her put in some simple fencing to discourage neighborhood children and dogs from trampling her plants.
I probably would have helped her anyway, but she pooped out rather quickly and I had to make multiple trips to Menards by myself.
My violinist begged off joining me at my Mom’s nursing home to perform for their ice cream social. This was not particularly problematic. I continue to attempt to get other musicians to play music with me (either privately or in performance). I do enjoy that, but can persist alone.
I find it satisfying to perform for the nursing home. I see it as a combination of edification (for those who are alert and interested), a dash of education and a chance to allow people to make their own music via singing hymns or huming/singing along with pop tunes they recognize (“It’s only a Paper Moon”).
My violinist called a few hours before the performance, so I put together a little program of pieces I felt I could pull off without prep. This ended up looking a lot like a list of pieces I had done with the dance class.
Theme from a Bach Brandenburg (no. 4), Orientale by Cui, and a piano piece by Gwyneth Walker.
In the case of the latter two, I performed the entire piece which was satisfying. The dance class only used sections of it.
I sprinkled in a happy Mozart piano sonata movement and that was my classical stuff for yesterday.
I did use Ellington’s “I’ve got it bad and that aint good.” I do a rap with the audience as I play. I told them the Duke was one of my favorites. And he is.
We spent almost a half hour singing hymns. The response was pretty enthusiastic for a bunch people in a nursing home. There were times when I played very minimal piano to allow the singing to take over. Inspiring to me.
It struck me later how contrasting the enthusiasm of this audience is with other audiences I play for. Both are extremes that have little to do with me personally.
Eileen madly prepared for the choir party all day yesterday. She was brilliant but it did wear her totally out.
The party went well. Listening to people talk about their lives is always interesting to me.
We did some singing, but not too much. We only made it to page 38 (of 78) of “Trial by Jury” a “cantata” by Arthur Sullivan. I had the feeling that much more would have tried the patience of some of the members. There were some that were probably as crazy as me and ready to sing it all the way through for the heck of it.
But less is more as they say.
I’m kind of tired myself this morning come to think of it. Getting to blogging a bit late. Spent the morning wrestling with Greek.
Doing a little reading and other stuff.
I just sent off the music for Pentecost for the church bulletin. It’s a day late by my own schedule.
I am feeling less and less free to rant and rave here. Many of my observations on people and their behavior are probably not appropriate to air publicly.
Today, Amy Piersma, my violinist friend, and I are scheduled to play for an ice cream social at my Mom’s nursing home. I’m hoping the novelty of having a violinist along will suffice so that we can basically play the program we played for a recent gig. Probably need to add a few hymns.
Amy and I meet at 2 PM today. Then we’ll go over and play at the nursing home at 3 PM.
In the meantime, the house is as straight and as clean as it has been in a long time. Easy clean up from last night. Eileen is lazing around recuperating. She is threatening to go help a friend with her yard work today sometime.
The Test Exercises at the end of the first section of my Greek text have convinced me I do not know the grammar as thoroughly as intended. Sigh.
I have returned to the beginning sections to analyze them more closely in terms of the case and gender of each noun.
Eileen has been frantically working in the yard, draining her pond and weeding. I think she wore herself out on Monday. Last night I suggested we go out to eat in hopes it might distract and relax her.
We are hosting the choir party this evening. But that should be pretty easy. The house is straighter than usual.
I dreamed last night about finishing installing the new jacks in my harpsichord. I miss it quite a bit. Maybe I will be inspired to do this this summer.
I met with a bride and her parents and the “wedding planner” yesterday. It seems to me that one of the functions of a “wedding planner” is to inject large amounts of anxiety into a situation. Good grief.
I had an interesting chat with the father of the bride after they had figured out what organ music they wanted.
He indicated that he was involved with a “progressive” CRC church as head of its council. He bemoaned the fact that the “praise team” had attempted to remove the organ. He had encouraged them to use it once in a while on hymns but said they were resistant.
The older people in the congregation were so happy to have young people that they had given in about not using the organ. However, the praise team did not manage to have it removed.
The father of the bride said that when they did manage to convince them to use it, many people in the congregation were complimentary.
He also indicated that he was no longer involved with the church council though he was still part of the congregation.
I had forgotten how like an audition it is to meet with wedding people.
Later in the afternoon I decided I would play Buxtehude for Pentecost: a chorale prelude on Komm, Heiliger Geist (BuxWv 200) and the Jig Fugue (BuxWV 174). I could also use these for organ music for the upcoming Confirmation service which my church is hosting for the diocese this year.
David Brooks continues to recommend summer reading. It surprises me how much I agree with his recommendations.
In his comment section, this person’s observations blew me away:
“When I was young I struggled with dyslexia which makes it difficult to comprehend the words on a page. I learned to love music and other forms of art, but the struggle of reading led me to love reading as well. Now I am mostly blind and literature comes to me through listening which has opened another world, a different sight, to me.”
I spent a couple hours yesterday cleaning my porch. It has grown into a hodge podge of stuff combining several layers of junk. All my CDs are out there and that is quite a number. Also boxes from my parents.
Thumbing through the stacks and boxes of papers that mostly needed discarding I found little notes that my Mom had made to herself, many throughout Dad’s decline. Many of these are prayers. Some of them are left over from her stay in a psych ward.
Reading them makes me wonder where that woman went. Is she still there in the person sitting quietly in her nursing home room not far from here? Mostly likely she is. But she rarely speaks of her faith and struggle now.
This morning I discovered that the writer Samuel Johnson also wrote prayers to cope with his struggles with depression.
He did so conscious of the beauty of the collects that Cranmer wrote for the Book of Common Prayer.
Eileen and I stumbled across a pretty interesting movie last night.
I find myself less and less drawn to movies and tv. I tell myself it’s because I can’t relate to the ones being made. Of course it is probably also about me changing as well.
“The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology” drew me in pretty quickly. I didn’t realize until this morning that the person speaking throughout was not a film maker, but a public intellectual of sorts, Slavoj Žižek, a philosopher, cultural critic and psychoanalyst. It’s kind of goofy, definitely preachy, but I think I like this movie quite a bit.
Throughout the film, Slavoj Žižek is seen speaking seemingly extemporaneously in the mode of a professor about ideology. The film uses movies to make its point and the film maker has inserted the lecturing Slavoj Žižek into the film sets themselves. Above, he is sitting in the bathroom from “Full Metal Jacket” where one of the characters commits suicide.
Here’s a trailer in case you’re curious
Eileen and I watched it on Netflix, it seems to be on YouTube as well.
I had to catch up on my NYT yesterday, since I neglected to treadmill two days in a row. Skipping exercising also seems to mean skipping reading the paper.
This link is disturbing. More and more, I am learning how our government keeps itself secret from us.
Last night was the AGO potluck. Eileen didn’t go even though spouses were invited. The evening was pleasant and people seemed to be having a good time.
I come away from these kinds of social events vibrating with snippets of conversation and impressions.
These continue to rattle uncomfortably in my brain. I often rehearse conversations I participated in and wince at my own inanity and possible insensitivity.
I file all this under the fact that I am painfully aware of misimpressions I can give people and also that I probably am more “intro” than “extro” vert.
These painful recollections make it difficult for me to relax and rest.
This is all exacerbated by my lingering burnout.
I tell Eileen that I am basically happy. But that little annoying things become amplified by my burnout.
Then I tend to fixate on them. But there’s nothing in my life that I would necessarily want to change. I just need a vacation.
One of those moments that kept echoing in my head was a discussion with a member of my choir who is also a member of the AGO. In the course of discussing an anthem I had to cancel, the chorister said that he noticed that I never complain about the challenges of working with the ever changing numbers in the choir.
I love articles that recommend reading. I have read a few of these but I always appreciate being exposed to how other readers are looking at their own preferences.
I had an insight yesterday that was helpful. I was quite depressed after spending time with the wonderful organ builder and his side kick who came to Holland to talk to our Organ Committee.
My church is in the process of purchasing a pipe organ. I should be ecstatic. Instead I feel weirdly skeptical about the ultimate outcome expecting roadblocks or something I guess.
I am 100 % behind the idea of installing a superb instrument (world class) in the church where I work.
I think that my own technique might become more apparent to listeners, certainly the music I learn and perform will be much better served by a decent instrument.
I think I might surprise some people who tend to see me as a third rate hack largely I suspect due to my demeanor and appearance.
Or not.
Whatever.
The insight comes from the depression. It depresses me to be reminded how poor the instrument is that I perform on. Having people around me (the builder and his side kick) who have such passion about excellence in this area can leave me deflated as I persist with my inferior instrument.
I did try to explain to the young side kick that the timbres of sound have never been as important to me as the actual structures of the composition.
This probably made no sense to him. But later I was thinking that my own passion for beautifully made music is as strong and real as the admirable passion of the two men I spent Tuesday with, namely the construction of quality instruments.
This hit home to me as I reflected on the actual repertoire we discussed as a threesome. Some of it was clearly not to my own taste. I would even go so far as to say it was probably pretty poor music that I would not choose to perform or listen to.
So I am a bit of musical snob in my own way. Beauty, playfulness, honesty, and my own simple attraction to music draws me into a wide variety of music styles. I recall the conversation I had with a now dead concert pianist years ago when he referred to certain styles of music as “drek.” This lead to my own eventual composition of a tune called “drek” after realizing that what this fine musician was talking about was music that I valued.
This amused my (now) son-in-law who comes from a Jewish background and knew the yiddish term. He enjoyed the idea that two goy musicians were tossing around a yiddishism.
I had a gig last night. I and my violinist, Amy Piersma, performed for an anniversary celebration of a local church. It was held in the former study hall of a refurbished school building here in Holland.
I was provided with an electric keyboard (which I guess this church uses in its worship). The sound was pretty bad (pace to all who use these instruments). But Amy and I performed a wide variety of baroque sonatas and jazz tunes for about an hour.
It was fun. Hopefully she will drop off my check for $75 today.
Eileen and I went to Best Buy and bought a new laptop. For some reason the fucking thing will not load websites like Facebook and Comedy Central on Chrome. This morning I got up and used Explorer and the Facebook log in came right up. I simultaneously opened Chrome and it refuses to load. I suspect the security software it came with (McAfe) is fucking up Chrome. But Windows 8.1 makes it so difficult to get to panels where one can adjust such things.
To add insult to injury the laptop keeps automatically loading programs that start blathering away, talking!
Ay yi yi.
I am experiencing burnout again. I am sparing anyone kind enough to read this and just deleted most of a whiny blog post.
Did you know our idiot government tried to create a new award that purported to be more prestigious than the purple heart for cyberwarriors who run drones. There was an understandable outcry. What were people thinking?
This article quotes the darling of the right, Adam Smith, who wrote in his Wealth of Nations: “Whenever the legislature attempts to regulate the differences between masters and their workmen, its counsellors are always the masters. When the regulation, therefore, is in favour of the workmen, it is always just and equitable; but it is sometimes otherwise when in favour of the masters.””
So I changed the blog a bit just to clean it up. In the world of WordPress this is called changing a theme. I can remember years ago when I first had the idea of having a website where people could come and read and then leave comments, hopefully have conversations.
I built the thing from scratch then. Much easier to use an interface like WordPress these days.
It’s pretty easy to switch back and forth between these premade designs so I’m not sure I will stick with this. But I have to say I like it better.
I picked up a couple books of poetry on impulse last week when I made my weekly library visit to pick out large prints books for my elderly mom to read in her nursing home.
I can remember in the sixties going to the public library in Flint and always stopping at the new book shelf of poetry. I remember it now as being huge. I wonder how accurate that memory is.
I have somehow developed a life long love of poetry. I think it is connected inside me to my love of music, books and reading. I puzzle over how I got this way. I think the main thing my parents did to nurture this (that I remember anyway) was give me freedom.
They rarely censored my reading. Actually I’m not even sure how much they noticed what I was reading.
Once my Dad asked me not to play a Frank Zappa record because a woman in a monologue said the word, “Fuck.”
I find this amusing in retrospect when my Mom once made the startling comment to me, “I don’t swear. Your FATHER swears.”
I don’t remember hearing him swear.
Anyway, the poetry book I have been working on is “The Boss” by Victoria Chang. I am enjoying her poems. I love it that I picked her up randomly on the new book shelf.
I count 45 poems in this book. Eleven of them (again by my count, they are not numbered) take their titles from paintings by Edward Hopper. The poems describe the paintings and riff on them, either speculating on the circumstances or relating them to lived life presumably Chang’s herself.
This morning I began googling them.
Which brings me to my continuing point: if one is curious and seeks to understand shit and is alert to the pitfalls of bad web sites, the Interwebs is a wonderful place.
Looking at the paintings is very helpful in understanding Chang’s poetry.
I’ll close with a wonderful example.
EDWARD HOPPER’S NEW YORK OFFICE
by Victoria Change
Maybe the letter isn’t from a lover the letter is a layoff letter
a lay aside letter a lay into letter maybe the
letter says you are an employee of me and I certainly
expect you to come to the meeting
about me my two-year-old says me don’t have candy
me me me me my tooth hurts my head hurts my foot hurts me have
boo boo here and here and here and here
I can never see them these boo boos
cannot see anything maybe her letter is a DMV letter telling
her to pay the registration fee the license fee the
weight fee the special plate fee the city county
state fees the owner responsibility fee the smog
abatement fee maybe if the DMV didn’t send so
many fees the woman would be free to work in a
different building with a different window in a
different city for a different boss
I followed the original Watergate hearings as they were being televised, but I didn’t realize that Magruder had said that Nixon initiated them before he died. Who knows if it’s true? But there it is in his obit.
Some salient observations critical of our Supreme Court from a Letter to the Editor writer. I especially like his observation that “The fundamental problem isn’t left versus right or liberal versus conservative. It’s an inability — or at least an arrogant unwillingness — to listen authentically.”
I always relate to Jonah and the whale story since Jonah didn’t want to do what he was destined to do (prophecy to Ninevah) and then he seemed to have failed at it. This is Michelangelo’s take on it. Note the fish.
I am amused that I continue to read and think about religious stuff. After finishing Charles Taylor’s A Secular Age, I find myself on the second chapter of The Rivers North of the Future: The Testament of Ivan Illich. I have to admit he seems a little crazy. It reminds me of reading Philip K. Dick. But like Dick, Illich makes a crazy kind of sense which I find fascinating but pretty much unconvincing.
Philip K. Dick with a third eye. I wonder if Illich every read him. Heh.
Illich says that when Paul writes about the “mystery of wickedness” in the second chapter of Thessalonians he is referring to how the young faith is corrupted by those who try to organize it. Either that or Illich means that he sees the ultimate good of the Incarnation as containing the seeds of ultimate evil.
Science fiction, no?
Anyway, I opened up my bible with a smile and read this chapter this morning as well Illich.
What the fuck am I doing I wondered idly as I then pulled out a book on the history of The Book of Common Prayer? This reading led me to some other religious books. The Bibliography of the Book of Common Prayer: 1549-1999 by David N. Griffiths. When I googled this book I found a very weird thing: a YouTube of a review of it read in a robot voice.
Life is good.
On another note I continue to be amused at how badly techies are at designing and thinking about tech.
Yesterday after reading the manual online of the hard drive I purchased, I jumped in the car and drove to Best Buy to ask a Geek dude whether I had actually purchased an independent hard drive or a back up system since the fucking thing was named “Back Up Plus” and the online manual was all about this stupid stupid interface (dashboard) which would let the user automatically back up his pics from Facebook and Twitter.
(Note: since I am a terrible consumer, I simply bought the box the young man handed me when I asked for an external drive. I noticed the name of the product later).
The young man behind the counter assured me that I would be able to access this drive in the usual manner. My confidence was restored until he added that he knew about these things because he had been doing them “for years.”
I left. I couldn’t help but muse that I had been doing computers longer than this little fucker had been alive.
I find a small solace when I realize there are still a number of people who are interested in the arts, the life of the mind, and the beauty of words. Many if not most people’s listening habits do not include classical music. Nor do they seem to range over the many wonderful different styles that one can pull up these days and enjoy.
I find myself being drawn deeper and deeper into many styles of music.
My recent rehearsals of violin sonatas of Bach and Mozart with violinist Amy Piersma have been delightful.
These men’s music is in turns profound and playful, moving and insightful. I love it that somehow emotions of such rewarding nature have been embedded in the scribbles of people who lived centuries ago can still be revived and experienced.
I ran across some interesting pop music yesterday.
There was an article about Lily Allen in the New York Times I was reading. I love it that I was able to pull up her album “Sheezus” on Spotify and sample it. Cool. I love sarcasm in pop music.
Yesterday I had some amusing interchanges with people. At the Farmers Market there was a well dressed man soliciting signatures for a petition. The petition was to put our state legislature on a part time basis. I am more selective than I used to be about signing petitions for public referendums or what not. I used to feel like elevating questions to be voted on was a worthy and important part of democracy.
Now that I think democracy in America is pretty much gone, I don’t really want to sign petitions of things that are too nutty. However this didn’t seem too nutty to me.
On the lapel of the pastel suit coat of the man was a gold plague that read something like Chairman of the Republican State Committee. I teased the man that I would sign it even though he was Republican. In fact, I confided, many of my friends were Republicans.
He replied grimly, “Government has just gotten out of hand.”
I sighed and handed him back his clip board signed.
At the library yesterday I ran across this book, checked it out and brought it home and started reading it. I am interested in the Book of Common Prayer these days. I think the beauty of the generations of language in it are fascinating. I am attracted to things said beautifully and find it satisfying to run across people and resources dedicated to exposing and discussing them historically.
I have a stake in the Episcopal church because it helped me not entirely reject Christianity out of hand. I remember my first contact with it in Oscoda Michigan.
It was a revelation to me that one could have such deep beauty of words and music in church having been raised on the banality of the faith of my childhood.
The banality ends up serving me as well. I am as comfortable with popular music as academic music. I can find music in both areas that I enjoy, listen to and perform. I think that’s good. Many people don’t have that luxury.
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