I do like having my brother around (Hi Mark!). I put off my evening martini last night until he got back from the Festival of Faith and Writing. Then we both had martinis and chatted until late. Eileen sat and listened and did the phone thing. She is very patient with the Jenkins brothers.

Mark got up later this morning than he had planned and decided to blow off the early sessions so we had some more time this morning before he left. Admittedly he spent a good portion of it sleeping in a chair while I quietly read and did my Greek.

After he left and after breakfasting/boggling with beautiful Eileen I went to church to work. We have new offices. I got my key yesterday. So I was able to get in and make the program for tomorrow’s recital and publish the poster for the May recital.

By the time I got to the organ bench it was past noon. It’s still weird to have such a good organ at the church I work. It’s a pleasure but it doesn’t quite feel real a lot of the time. Preparing for tomorrow’s Eucharist I discovered some bell parts in the Hymnal 1982 on Hymn 193 , “That Easter day with joy was bright .” I laid out 8 tone chimes with the idea I will have the choir help me with these parts.

A benefit of a good acoustic is that it carries the sound of the tone chimes well.

I also checked out the original scoring of “Flocks may safely graze” by Bach. I discovered that the bass line pulses eighth notes all the way through. The Oxford Easy Anthem arrangement we are learning changes this piece quite a bit. It makes it more like an English anthem and substitutes longer note values for the lovely pulsing notes in the original. I decided to restore Bach’s original bass line. If I end up using strings on it I will redo the cello part so that it fits the original line. I still haven’t heard from my violinist.

In addition i examined some of John Alcock’s music online.

The anthem that we are doing tomorrow is “based” on a voluntary by him. It may very well be the one pictured above. Wednesday the instrumental tag in the organ accompaniment caught me surprise. Suddenly the arranger, Mark Schweizer, wrote some ascending chromatic lines. I thought it was weird. In looking at Alcock’s work, I think Schweizer based his little choral anthem very loosely on an Alcock voluntary. The one above does have  harmony in it that is vaguely suggested by Schweizer’s piece. But I decided to change ending and not use the weird ascending chromatic tag, just substitute one of the previous interludes in the little piece and cadence to the tonic.

So my boss’s life partner, Elizabeth Trembley, takes notes in a very unique way. She and Rev Jen are attending the same conference Mark is. The poet Pádraig Ó Tuama retweeted one of her sketches. Very cool.  Note the Krista Tippet tweet as well. I almost know some famous people.

I’m not sure what I think about Pádraig Ó Tuama’s poetry. My brother left me a couple volumes which I have been reading in a bit. However, I do love this retweet he did:

Scribbling With Spirit

This is a link to Beth Trembley’s blog.

Common Reader

This is an online essay journal. I think it looks kind of interesting.

Major Papers Urge Trump to Kill Syrians, Risk World War III | FAIR

Once again we are failed by the New York Times and the Washington Post. The attack has happened. I wonder how many died.

My brother is using our home as a home base while he attends the Festival of Faith and Writing 2018 at Calvin College. He got up early and chatted for a bit before he left this morning. We agreed that Calvin College gives us the creeps. Prince Conference Center right across from a build with Devos’s name on it. The world is bat shit crazy.

I started reading an ebook of Madeline Albright’s new book, Facism: A Warning. It’s a study of facism with an eye on the current insane stuff in the USA. She is excellent.

I texted my cellist yesterday trying to beg off our rehearsal. Often if one of the two string players can’t make it, I meet with who can. Unfortunately she didn’t see it, so I went over to the church around 10 AM and found her practicing. We practiced and chatted for  over an hour. Then she left and I practiced organ.

Eileen and I actually went to the grocery store in person yesterday. Eileen has been availing herself of the local delivery service that will bring you your groceries. Late in the afternoon I went and treadmilled. By the end of the day, I was exhausted again.

I’m feeling pretty good this morning. It was nice to see Mark first thing. He gets a lot out of these conferences. He also has a chance to see friends.

in the shelter

This is the website of  Pádraig Ó Tuama, one of the writers presenting at the conference Mark is attending. Rev Jen mentioned him to me (she’s attending as well as her life partner Beth Trembley). She thought I would appreciate him.  So far I haven’t found much of his writing online. There are recordings of him reading (which I did not click on yet).

BBC News: India Taj Mahal minarets damaged in storm

high winds destroy parts of the Taj Mahal.

NYTimes: Dissenting Against the Supreme Court’s Rightward Shift

Glimmers of sanity from Linda Greenhouse.

While rehearsing organ yesterday, I realized that the Sweelinck piece I had scheduled for the prelude was not based on the tune I thought it was. There are at least two  melodies called Puer nobis nascitur. This is the tune name for “That Easter Day with Joy was Bright,” our opening hymn this Sunday. But it is also the tune name for a different melody on which  Sweelinck did his variations. Unfortunately these two tunes are completely different.

So despite my weariness (I was rehearsing after a morning of prep for our first choir rehearsal after Easter and also meeting with Rev Jen), I searched and found a setting of this tune to use this Sunday. It’s a charming little piece by Charles Ore.

Yesterday I felt a certain collapsing of will and energy.

This is probably inevitable with all that has been going on in my life in the last month, but I am determined to do some resting today and make some sort of a mental/emotional come back if possible.

I received a text earlier this morning from my violinist canceling trio today. This concerns me a bit since I have scheduled the trio to accompany the choir a week from Sunday. I insist on a separate rehearsal with instrumentalists who serve in this capacity. If I can’t get one, I will accompany the anthem on the organ (which would sound pretty good that way anyway). I’ll practice that today.

Fun fact: the concept of inoculation for small pox seems to have been wide spread in 17th century Africa with the practice of taking some pus from someone who had it and scraping it on the skin with a thorn.  I found this out reading Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi.

Taught this notion by his slave, Onesimus, Cotton Mather became a proponent of doing this in America in the early 18th century.

By this time, the idea was hundreds of years old in Africa. However, in the colonies there was a strong reaction against the idea. It reminds me of the anti-vaccine people of today.

A little googling reveals that the Chinese were working with this idea in the 16th century. Who knew?

Kendi footnotes Arthur Allen’s book on vaccines. I presume he tells the story.

It seems that medicine is a bit of theme for me this morning. Yesterday Eileen and were both relieved to learn that she had been diagnosed with proctitis after a colonoscopy.

Since she had returned from her China trip in late January, she had experience blood in her stools. At first, our doctor tried some meds, but finally recommended the dreaded colonoscopy.

So this past weekend Eileen began the lengthy purging which is necessary for the procedure. Apparently they have an even more vigorous purging for those our age.

Then yesterday she had the procedure. Fasting is involved so on the way home from the hospital we stopped at her favorite restaurant and ordered her favorite dish to go (El Rancho, pollo supremo).

Of course, with our active minds, we had worried that it was something bad: cancer, parasites, or something else. It turns out that she has an inflammation that is treatable and not life threatening at all. Whew.

Eileen immediately slept after lunching on her pollo supremo. As per post-test instructions I stayed with her for most of the day in case she had a reaction or something.

Barbara Ehrenreich: Why I’m Giving Up on Preventative Care | Literary Hub

In the middle of this, a friend, Scott Anderson, emailed me the above link. Eileen said that she had read the article when someone linked it on Facebook. In it, the author makes a good case for reevaluating over-testing for medical reasons as you age.

Despite her wise words, I’m glad that Eileen had the colonoscopy.  In this case, it really was worth the peace of mind to have a diagnosis. (N.B. I had Eileen read this section for approval before publishing.)

I have been reading Kevin Young’s To Repel Ghosts: The Remix.

It uses the life and work of the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat as a foil for a long series of poems. Or in Young’s words “… this is not a biography, but an extended riff—Basquiat and his work serve as a bass line, a rhythm section, a melody from which the poems improvise.”

Titles and references in the poems refer to his specific paintings. Below is “Most Young Kings Get Their Head Cut Off.”

Another fun fact is that the builder of our organ at church, Martin Pasi, is married to Jennifer Vonholstein who was a colleague of Basquiat in New York where she and Pasquiat lived as young people.

The poetry is good. Now I’m planning to run down all the pictures Young refers to. I’m quite attracted to Basquiat’s work.

Final fun fact for the day. I am planning to perform a bit of a movement from one of Paul Hindemith’s wonderful organ sonatas for Pentecost. So I thought I would avail myself of his Grove Dictionary of Music entry to learn more about him although he has been on my radar as long as Pentangle and other young passions of mine. I remember playing through his flute works with my friend, David Barber, when we were both in high school.

In the Groves article, the author of it writes about Neue Sachlichkeit. This is the style that I think of when i think of Hindemith: dissonant, logical, counterpuntal. He arrived at it in the late 1920s.

From the Groves article “The term, coined by Gustav Friedrich Hartlaub originally in reference to the visual arts, refers to the simultaneous emergence of socio-political and artistic trends that emphasized the democratization of all areas of life. ”

This aesthetic seems pertinent at this point in America’s history as we witness the return to racism as a driving factor in our public life and the consistent destruction of civic participation via understanding issues, thinking about them, and then acting on them.

Bach and Sweelinck are on my mind. Plus a strong feeling of gratitude. I was thinking this morning how much I like my wife and how lucky I am she is in my life. In addition, I notice that Bach is a strong presence in my life. I don’t always notice how I move from one keyboard work to another of his to practice and ponder. Added to that now is the little lute Bourree I have been working on in the guitar transcription.

Bach is a strong source of joy and different pleasures for me. Again, I’m lucky.

I continue reading sporadically in Peter William’s J. S. Bach: A Life in Music. A footnote sticks with me.

In describing Bach’s huge Leipzig home rebuilt by the church authorities as part of his contract agreement Williams adds the following footnote.

“The pulling down of this building in 1903 is matched by the barbarous demolitions dating from the years of East German socialism: the remains of the Leipzig Johanniskirche (for a traffic island), the Dresden Sophienkirche of Wilhelm Friedeman Bach (for a cafeteria, 1962) and the still standing Leipzig University Church in 1968.” Williams p. 172

Then I was reading the poem, “The Rabbit,” by Nick Lantz in the current American Poetry Review. These lines made me think of the above footnote:

“Ninety-three-point-six-percent of adulthood
is believing if I could just have those shoes
with the red stripe again, I’d be happy.
Sometimes we bulldoze
the ruins of an ancient city
to build a shopping  mall.
And sometimes we buldoze
a shopping mall to make way
for another shopping mall.”

Okay, it’s not that great a poem, but it made me think of the Bach footnote.

We are moving the church offices out of the building this week. The church purchased a building kitty cornered to the main church recently. It will be the new offices. By choice, I do not have an office. I asked them to move the desk out of the choir room so we would have more room. All I need is a wifi connection to do most of my clerical work and we have that.

I’m not sure how they will handle having the church proper open with the offices on the other side of the parking lot.  It’s possible they have thought of how to approach this. It’s also possible that they haven’t.

I have been struggling a bit with my BP ever since my Mom died (related?). This morning it dipped below my warning measurement of the top number being 140 or over. I have mentioned her before, I believe, that I have an agreement with my doctor that if it is high for seven days in row I will contact her. At 135 this morning it’s still not what you would call low. But at least it’s a step in the right direction. My weight is slowly, slowly dropping. I’m hoping this will help me delay going on a stronger BP med.

This weekend I had several chances to perform in public. Reflecting on the performance of the Messiah yesterday afternoon, it occurred to me that I had more misgivings about that performance than any other over the weekend. It’s more of a contrast because I would say that I enjoyed the other performances immensely. Although I appreciated the challenge of performing at the harpsichord for an hour and forty minutes in public, I found myself questioning the notion of doing all Handel (or anything else) for that long for a contemporary audience. Not to mention the Messiah one of the most familiar and repeated works in the repertoire (HALLELUJAH!). It reminds me of the Widor Toccata or the Bach Toccata and Fugue in D minor (the Phantom of the Opera one). These pieces are good to perform. But using them as a showcase piece doesn’t work for me.

At the funeral on Saturday morning, I enjoyed performing classy organ music (Bach trios, Sweelinck upcoming variations), leading the congregation and accompanying a singer on Dvorak’s “God is My Shepherd.” Yesterday morning besides the usual pleasure of leading the assembly in song, I enjoyed even more the challenge of pulling together the choir to do a fine piece of choral literature that fit the feast like a glove (Quia vidisti me Thoma by Hassler) and 12 variations on “O Sons and Daughters” by Dandrieu.

After a shaky start in the choral piece we pulled together a stellar reading of it in the service. My variations went splendidly (if I do say so myself). I wish my teacher Ray Ferguson could hear me play in the French manner in which he instructed me on such a fine instrument.

Eclecticism has become a hallmark of my person aesthetic. As has respect for the changing audience ears. I use the Alex Ross story to help people. Alex Ross, the New Yorker music critic and contemporary music historian, noticed that when he first got his Ipod that when he put it on shuffle it would dance around throughout the dizzying array of musics that he like to listened to. He learned from that. “We’re all on shuffle now,” he observed.

So I think I will mention to Nick that I’m going to skip doing harpsichord for him next year. I’m sure he can find someone else to cover the parts. They are not that hard. There is some stylistic sophistication that is required. But I’m sure he knows a dozen people who could do it.

If my energy pie was bigger, if I was younger, I might just do it for the sheer joy of being included with some good musicians. But we were a bit under-rehearsed this time. I felt like enthusiasm was not as high the second year. It’s time for jupe to husband his resources and use his time left on the planet to do some more interesting things.

Nick and his priest seem to be presenting the “annual” Messiah as a culmination of the octave of Holy Week which I find confusing. I can think of a number of pieces that would serve that end more clearly. It would be cool if they would do the recital each year but change the piece. Nick could even write a piece and that would be wonderful.

But nobody asked me. So there you are. Once again renegade jupe sits in his Holland living room and wonders about shit.

Opinion | Why Authoritarians Attack the Arts – The New York Times

It appears increasingly certain that there is a method to the madness of President Trump. He is leading the country (and influencing the world) down the path of fascism and authoritarianism. The Sinclair group stuff is just one aspect of what he and his cronies are doing. This article covers another.

This morning I learned that Greek dramas were originally one off events staged during public festivals. In the year 386 BC a group of elite Athenians decided that they could be restaged and repeated. This decision would seem to have enormous ramifications for Western Civilization especially regarding its art.

“Recalling this prescription [of only permitting one performance of a drama] suffices to indicate that Old European dramatic poetry did not begin under the auspices of autonomous art and literature, but rather as a practice of the political cult and as a civic-religious community effort.”

In other word the transience of the dramatic event enhanced its importance to the community. Its fleetingness was part of its power. This is stripped away with allowing it to be repeated and something new begins to happen that has ramifications right up until the present moment in Western Civilization.

“Athenian citizens set an ambivalence into the world that has inhered ever since in all courtly, later bourgeois, and ultimately museumized and mass-mediatized cultic and aesthetic practices; namely, that  what was religion becomes an aesthetic phenomenon, while art presses ahead to supersede religion.” (emphasis added)

The quotes are from the essay, “The Plunge and the Turn,” by Peter Sloterdijk in the collection, Not Saved: Essays after Heidegger.

This boggles the mind when one considers that our current public politco scene has been transformed into a terrain of mindless language of entertainment practice brought to bear to accomplish largely fascistic goals.

So my own embrace of art, literature, music, poetry helps my life be a rewarding one.

But I seem to live in a time where a banal turmoil of cacophony dominates much public rhetoric and many interpersonal communications and understandings. Thank god for art.

A bit heavy for Sunday morning, but welcome to my world.

I had to play a funeral this morning. I thought it was scheduled at 10. I walked over around 9 to eventually discover that it was scheduled at 11. No problem. I always go over on Saturday to do final prep for Sunday anyway. So I made good use of the extra time.

I continue to use some pretty classy music at weddings and funerals. Bach trios for organ are not often heard I think in this context, but they sound so beautiful on this instrument, it’s a shame not to use them.

Afterwards as I was walking through the mourners a young person of about 8 or 9 years said to me, “You’re good!” I thanked her. I often am thinking of the children when I try to make good music. Children seem to understand music or at least notice it more than grown ups. This was a nice compliment.

However, I was unhappy when I opened my check to find that not only did the funeral home neglect to pay the soloist, they paid me $75. Sheesh. I emailed Jen. The church will probably kick in a few more bucks on this. This makes me crazy.

Yesterday, I took my new phone to the Verizon store because I’ve had static on it. They checked for updates and settings and advised me to contact customer service for further diagnostics. I did so and they determined that the problem was in the phone. So I got a new phone again.

Having a new phone is such a pain. One has to get it back into working order which means countless updates and app installations. The Google backup is pretty good. So it did a lot of transfer automatically. But the updates seem to be layered. I did a bunch on the old new phone. And I had to do them again on the new new phone.

I had very weird dreams last night. In one of them the sky was a huge piece of tin foil. I was cowering in a hole in the ground and holding up a teddy bear in a sort of defiant mode. In the next dream I was talking to someone (one of my dream daemons). They said the previous dream sounded like I was dealing with death. They asked me if any one had died in my life recently. When I replied that my mother had, they offered condolences.

In the next dream, for some reason a pipe organ I was responsible for (not the Pasi)  was upside down. It was not steady. It was swaying a bit. At one point it collapsed to my horror, but then suddenly it was there again, upside down.

Will We Stop Trump Before It’s Too Late? – The New York Times

If you haven’t read this article by former Secretary of State Madeline Albright, I recommend doing so. She has a good grasp of the current terrifying global and national situation.

Yesterday at trio rehearsal, I convinced my players that it might be fun to trio some of the Bach violin sonatas using organ instead of harpsichord. I mentioned this after we rehearsed the first movement of the B minor sonata for upcoming use at Eucharist.

They readily agreed. These pieces as I have mentioned here before are really trios. Accompanying them on the organ allows the second voice of the trio (the right hand of the keyboard part) to be soloed out on a contrasting stop. When using harpsichord this voice is a bit fainter especially when paired with a modern violin.

Dawn was complimentary (as usual) of my harpsichord work the night before at the Messiah rehearsal. I actually wasn’t very satisfied with my performance and spent time yesterday rehearsing for this gig. But it was nice to hear that it might not have been the disaster it sometimes felt like.

After trio, I practiced organ. it is such a delight to practice and perform on a first class instrument. I am playing all of Dandrieu’s Offertory variations on “On Sons and Daughters” Sunday as the prelude and postlude. Dandrieu is a contemporary of Bach, but his music is quintessentially French classical. I love this shit and it sits nicely on the Pasi.

In addition I have scheduled four variations on Puer Nobis (the opening hymn the following week) by Swellinck. Again this stuff is charming and sits nicely on the instrument.

I detect a Pentangle/John Renbourn influence in my turning to this early music with such enthusiasm. I received an email from trumpet dude canceling our rehearsal today. This means more time for me to practice on the Pasi so it’s not exactly a tragedy for me.

Before that I’m due in Glen for an appointment with my therapist. It’s been quite a ride the last two weeks so I have lots to talk about. As usual, I’m looking forward to it.

Gerald Stern | Poetry Foundation

After working an old Monday NYT crossword puzzle laying in bed this morning, I read some of Stern’s work. He is now on my radar.

NYTimes: Terry Gilliam’s Long-Delayed ‘Quixote’ Gets a Trailer

There are certain film makers who arouse even this old jaded viewer. I can’t wait for this movie.

Easy Shakshuka Recipe with Feta | Umami Girl

Eileen “shared” this recipe on Fakebook.

I was relieved this morning that my BP was low despite having a martini and some wine (and snacks) after last night’s three hour rehearsal for a performance of the Messiah on Sunday. It was a difficult rehearsal due to the fact that the first violinist got the day wrong and was actually in Tennessee last night. So there were some gaping holes. I tried to play her part on the harpsichord but it was not audible enough. The organist played the part on one movement. But there were many movements with missing music making it confusing. Also the small group of string players were playing from a different edition (Peters) than the singers were singing from. Nick the conductor and I were working from a third edition (the Dover full score).  Nick would call out a number to rehearse and I would have to consult my table to figure out which movement we were working on.

At least once last night this caused me to miss out on a few pages of a movement. No harm done, but I wasn’t very happy about not being on top of what was happening. The harpsichord part, while soft and never that prominent, is important to the singers and orchestra as sort of a rhythm guitar part.

I’m happy to report that both of my string trio players can play at Eucharist on April 22. We will be able to do a wonderful movement from the Bach B minor violin sonata. I’m also planning on transcribing the first flute part from Bach’s Sheep Shall Safely Graze and using violin, cello, and possibly harpsichord on it. There will be no postlude because its “earth day” and our “earth committee” (not it’s name) has arranged for us to process outside and do something (plant some trees?).

Anyway, I and another guitarist will accompany “All Things Bright and Beautiful” at each station of this outside. This occurs at the end of the service making a Bach trio postlude superfluous. No biggie.  That means we have another movement for another day.

I have to get over to church this morning and tune the harpsichord before our 10 AM rehearsal.

I admit that I am exhausted this morning. A three hour rehearsal of one long work takes a lot of me. Also, I’m beginning to wonder about lengthy performances of one piece like this at a time when attention spans are shortening and people have such a wide array of musics to listen to that I usually opt for more eclectic scheduling. It feels a bit like a throw back provincial practice to me, but what do I know.

I have to admit, however, that the male alto (who Nick later told me was actually a soprano struggling with the low range) who sings one of the solos has a luscious sound. The dude can sing and I love that high sound so many groups are using these days.

NYTimes: The Case of Hong Kong’s Missing Booksellers

This is a well written interesting story about selling books in Hong Kong and China.

I’m glad this is coming to the attention of the wider public. It is a serious breach in  the functioning attempt at democracy that the US has been. We are definitely in new territory here.

Part of the joy of the interweb is constantly finding new and interesting things to think about and explore. In my case, these are often books and thinkers. This morning I had the idea of creating a sub directory in my Google Drive and call it “On Deck.”

I sometimes forget where I originally ran across a mention of a book or a piece of music. I can’t process all the new ideas I come in contact with fast enough. I read slower than I ever used to, emphasizing comprehension. Thus, by the time I get to a book or a new idea, I might not be sure what originally intrigued me about it.

This morning I was thinking about Mohsin Hamid, an author. He is featured on this month’s New Yorker Fiction Podcast, where he reads a piece by Borges. He talks about Borges’s influence on him. I have long admired Borges. I was intrigued and checked out Hamid’s latest novel, Exit West.

It looks fascinating, but I can’t add another book to my daily read right now. So into the “On Deck” it goes.

A glance through my “Saved for Later” list in my Amazon cart, shows that I need that subdirectory.

I am much more rested today. Yesterday I did some work. I picked some new anthems factoring in the changing personnel in my choir and also projected absences. I also planned some upcoming Sundays. A week from Sunday I am planning to play Sweelinck.

April 22 looks to be a Bach Sunday. I have texted my trio asking if they could play that day. We have been working on some beautiful Bach (the violin sonata in B minor) and have discussed scheduling it soon. I haven’t heard back from the violinist. The cellist has said she could do it. I am planning to schedule a version of Bach’s Sheep may safely graze that Sunday for the choir. I will make sure the violin and cello have parts to this as well. I have to decide if the choir can sing it in the original four parts or if I should use an SAB version instead.  I had a bass quit right before Holy Week (discouraging), so I’m down to two basses one of which is a doctor who sometimes has to work Sunday mornings. He didn’t sign out for the 22nd but I’m still wondering if it might be the better part of valor to use the SAB version. These arrangements are often a bit more accessible for a small choir.

I’ve also been spending even more time on the guitar. The collection of Medieval and Renaissance music by John Renbourn I purchased is delightful. He does a lot of weird tunings which is pretty eccentric for the repertoire. I was relieved to find that he doesn’t do a tuning on one of my favorites, Bransle Gay. I have always wanted to have this tune in my fingers on the guitar. I was surprised this morning when I read through it and it was much easier than I remember, certainly easier than the Bach Bourree I have been practicing.

Did you know that if you use Google apps on your phone that it can find the phone for you, just like it finds you for Maps?

In other words, I could have pinged my phone by simply googling “find my phone.” When the guy at the Verizon store did this for me yesterday either the phone’s battery was dead or someone turned it off.  I got the same response today. That was an expensive lesson. I had to pay off my old phone and buy a new one yesterday. Since my phone was pretty new it cost me about $575 to pay it off plus money down on the new one.

I was grumpy yesterday. I drank too much last night and this morning I am hung over and feeling properly sheepish and sorrowful about being such an idiot and drinking too much.

So grumpy yesterday, sheepish today.

After I bought a phone (with Eileen’s wise counsel), we immediately went to Model Drugs and I purchased a better purse for myself. I believe that my phone fell out of my old one. I bought a Baggallini with a pocket that snaps on the front in which my phone fits snugly.

Then we went by the Social Security office. It wasn’t crowded but my new phone wasn’t that charged up so that I couldn’t sit and play with it while we waited. So I put off checking that SS knows my Mom is dead and has suspended her payments to another day.

Then we went to the library and dropped off two boxes of books. Eileen picked up a book on hold. Then to Bibles for Mexico with a car load of shit we are getting rid of.

Today I’m basically back at work. I just emailed Sunday’s music into the office. I have to look carefully at the Messiah score. I have a rehearsal tomorrow evening in Grand Haven at 7 PM. I’m playing harpsichord for this. I am grateful to be asked to work with Nick Palmer. He’s a good dude.

Now I’m off to go exercise for the first time in many days. Hopefully I’ll be getting my groove back soon.

I played the postlude very well yesterday, accurately and musically. That was satisfying considering all the hours I put in to preparing it. I wondered aloud to Eileen why it had gone worse the night before as the postlude for the Vigil. “Fatigue,” she replied. Alas, there might be something to that. Maybe next time I need to schedule something a bit less taxing for the Vigil postlude. In past years, these slots have been held by the Widor Toccata.

My book of Sloterdijk essays arrived yesterday. It’s weird to get stuff on Sunday, but it’s some kind of feature of Amazon Prime. I am looking forward to reading and studying the books on my list. I am finding Kendi (Stamped from the Beginning: The definitive history of racists ideas in America) a joy to read. He has a clear mind and is an excellent scholar. Sloterdijk and Siegel represent two areas of thinking I am interested in: understanding the present (Sloterdijk) and thinking about mind (Siegel).

In addition I am enjoying reading the poets on my current shelf: Anthony Hecht, Richard Wilbur, and Derek Walcott. Sharon Olds has two poems in the April edition of Poetry Magazine.  I adore her book of poems about her father. it is brutal and beautiful.

On the fiction side of things, I am still reading Ursula K. LeGuin and Alan Moore. Moore has slowed down since his prose is emulating Finnegans Wake. Like Finnegans Wake (and poetry for that matter) the best way for me to read it is aloud. I have been doing two pages a day.

I’ve also been playing around with copying out sentences from this section with my speculations on what the words mean. For example, he uses the word, “loquation.” I take that to be a combination of the words “loquacious” and “location,” thus implying a talkative place.  This feels a little like working crossword puzzles, but more satisfying since it often results in beauty or stuff to think about.

This week I plan to address stuff about tying up loose ends with my Mom’s death. Also I need to get a phone.

In my dream last night, I was with some people in a basement. We were contemplating removing the three pieces of baloney which we were tucked throughout the support beams (hey! it was a dream). Anyway, I suggested that someone google and see if they could find out if the baloney served any purpose before we removed it. I remember saying that I would do it, but I have lost my phone (sheesh! even in my dreams tech prevails!).

In another dream, a young woman asked Eileen if she were my daughter or wife. In the dream, Eileen looked young enough to be my daughter. I remember feeling that I obviously looked old, a lot older than the dream Eileen. I said so to her in the dream.

So, there you have it. Another missive in the absence of a phone. Hey. I’m okay, friends and fam. No need to call. Email me if you want to get hold of me.

I’m wondering about the wisdom of scheduling a difficult postlude for Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday. I guess it’s a good idea. The Vigil anthem was also one that showed off the organ (“Alleluia! Song of Gladness!” by Mathias). I manged to play and conduct it which was no mean feat. The choir was on their game and nailed it. The rest of the music went pretty well last night as well. I was satisfied with the postlude even though there were some bad moments. At any rate, I’m almost done.

Here’s a recent poem.

My 91-year-old mother
sits up dazed on the crumpled
hospital sheets.

With a terrifying smile
she says, “I am going to
see Jesus.”

I thought it was
the UtI talking.
It wasn’t.

March 26, 2018

Finished reading Edward E. Baptist’s The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism last night before the Good Friday Service. Did you know Abraham Lincoln was assassinated on a Good Friday. It was in April, but it was Good Friday.

This book has changed the way I look at the USA and the world. What more can you ask for from a book? I found a 2016 course description of a class Baptist teaches at Cornell in the history of American Capitalism. I’m not that interested in capitalism but the syllabus has some books that I want to check out (link to a pdf of it).

I ran across this group this morning. This piece is by Philip Glass and is from his opera, Hydrogen Jukebox, which is the result of a collaboration with Alan Ginsburg who wrote the words:

Hey Father Death, I’m flying home
Hey poor man, you’re all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I’m going

Father Death, Don’t cry any more
Mama’s there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store

Old Aunty Death Don’t hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans

O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts’ll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest

Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body’s gone
Father Death I’m coming home

Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues

Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we’ll work it through

Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn

Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.

The people singing are the San Francisco Girl Chorus. I think they are amazing. They just released another album this year with Kronos String Quartet and Father Death Blues is on it.

It’s on Spotify.

final answer by San Francisco Girls Chorus on Spotify

These YouTube recordings seem to be from a music festival in 2016.

This piece is on the album. As is this one:

Still no phone. Next week i will start working on getting one.

Store — Modern Works Music Publishing

Interested digital music publishing. I found it linked to Brad Mehldau‘s website.

It occurs to me that since I am incommunicado, having lost my phone,  these little posts can keep people (mostly fam) notified that I am still among the living.

This morning I was taking my BP (which was low by the way), when there came a soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Come in,” I said. The door swung open and there was Eileen and the cat quickly came in the room. I keep the cat out of the room while I take my BP because he likes to nip me in the vulnerable part of my calf as a sort of love bite when I am sitting on the john. It annoys me and almost certainly does not lower my BP.

Anyway, the cat had been bothering Eileen as she lay in bed. She was worried about me since this is unusual behavior in the cat. He usually attends to me quite closely in the morning. I wonder if Eileen expected to come downstairs and find me dead in the bathroom.

Anyway, I’m not dead.

I just ordered a copy of the collection of essays by Peter Sloterdijk, Not Saved: Essays after Heidegger. I have had an interlibrary loaned copy of this book in my hands for a while, long enough to renew it. I read the essay, “The Time of The Crime of The Monstrous: On the Philosophical Justification of the Artificial,” a while back. The first paragraph of this essay has been rattling around in my head. This morning instead of starting with Greek first, I copied the paragraph into my journal by hand to continue pondering. Then I did my Greek.

I looked up “monstrous” and according to the OED it can be used as this kind of noun. It fits the time we live in, does it not? Especially in the USA. I wonder if due to being more connected via tech we are simply more aware of terrible deeds in our current time like violence against young black men and others, not to mention ongoing wars and the brutal treatment of peoples cast out from their homelands.

Sloterdijk points out we don’t have the alibi of not knowing anymore, if we ever did.

“The mental trauma of the Modern Age is not the loss of the middle, but rather the loss of distance from the many others” he writes a little later in this essay.

Just before this he counts off six world “languages” that have been established in our time:

1. English
2. the dollar
3. multinational brands
4. popular music
5. the news
6. abstract art

I have read a little Heidegger but not enough to understand Sloterdijk’s commentary on him. However, his ideas, like Dan Sigel’s ideas on the mind, give me something to chew over. Both help me understand this bewildering time a tad more.

It also helps to find wonderful music. My brother brought my attention to the work of Brad Mehldau.

On this album Mehldau plays a piece by Bach then he plays something he himself made up (improvised?) using the material of that piece. His musical language is classical/pop/jazz in these pieces and is quite nice (thank you Mark).

This poem is by Rumi. I read it this morning before dawn. I’m feeling a bit melancholy this morning. I’m listening to Julian Bream play Bach on the guitar.

I often feel a bit dislocated this time of year, jerked into an odd sense of my self in the face of the Christian myths. It’s the music that keeps me going.

Today I will continue practicing my Easter postlude and also the accompaniment of the Mathias anthem we are singing at the Vigil. We have done this one before, but it’s like a different anthem on the new organ since the anthem is a dialog between solo organ and choir. It is a nice anthem but it’s taking a lot of work to prepare, especially with playing it and conducting it.

I can see that I am being drawn  into guitar again. I hope this happens. I remember my teacher, Ray Ferguson, telling me that he had recently tried to take up guitar but his “old hands” couldn’t shape themselves into the needed way. This is ironic to me since I knew his hands as expert and skilled musical hands.

But since leaving guitar and now returning to it I have developed more restrictions in the physical ability of my hands. Yesterday I was slowly playing a Ligeti piano etude and realized that there were stretches in it that I will never be able to do at this stage of my capacity (mostly due to Dupuytren’s contracture, a shrinking of the aging hand). I have developed a strategy in the face of this diminishing of my abilities: I fake it and somehow try to preserve my understanding of the music.

So far, my hands have remembered banjo and guitar and the only thing I am feeling is an occasional arthritic pang of pain in my hands, usually the left one. This pang of pain has been with me for a long time so it’s not that big a deal.

The Mind-Expanding Ideas of Andy Clark | The New Yorker

Wednesday afternoons I try to spend some time resting up for the evening rehearsal. One of my habits is to look over the most recent issue of the New Yorker. I save it for that. Yesterday I was reading the cartoons and poetry in it when this article caught my eye. Sure enough, Clark is playing around with ideas that Dan Siegel, the author of the book on mind I am reading, also has. I checked and Clark is quoted in Siegel and several of his books are bibliographed. Who knew?

“Who Knows One” | The New Yorker

This is a poem by Jane Shore in the same issue. However, I read it this morning, aloud. I usually read poetry aloud when I am alone, but in the afternoon prep for Wed rehearsal I don’t do this. This morning I thought I should give the poems in the mag the same chance that reading aloud provides for a good poem. This is a fun one. Both this poem and the previous linked article have embedded audio. I will listen to Shore read her article after I finish.

Josh Katz’s recipe for shakshuka | Life and style | The Guardian

This looks good.

Not much to report today. Eileen did our taxes yesterday. Since she has retired she has taken on the management of money. This is a great relief to me. She always helped, but now I don’t have to do anything  in this area. Cool.

I did not skip my martini last night, despite the fact that my BP was high the day before. I ascribe this spike to loss of my phone. Sure enough, it was back within acceptable range this morning. Between the death of my Mom and the onset of Holy Week, it might not be that great a time to be skipping martinis but its something I need to do more of to pull my BP down into better territory via weight loss.

I ordered some music yesterday.

Eileen suggested that I order the music to Bransle Gay arr. by John Renbourn since I never learned it well. I have been practicing guitar as well as banjo recently. Not sure why, but I have always enjoyed the sound.

I have been meaning to order Ligeti’s Musica Ricercata for piano since recently learning about it.

I also ordered a couple of books by Hakim. He’s not that fabulous a composer but he’s fun to play and comes up with some attractive ideas.

The benefit of having an annual non-renewable music fund for my own use at church.

NYTimes: How to Be a Jew in the Age of Trump?

I admire Simon Schama the author of this article.

NYTimes: Linda Brown, Symbol of Landmark Desegregation Case, Dies

NYTimes: John Paul Stevens: Repeal the Second Amendment

Former Supreme Court Justice Stevens that is.

NYTimes: In Energized Detroit, Savoring an Architectural Legacy

Cool.

I couldn’t find my credit card yesterday. I went through all of my dirty shirts, thinking I may have slipped it into a shirt pocket. Nope. I tried to think when the last time I had used it. Friday evening for Pizza? Eileen wasn’t around so I was on my own looking for it. I finally gave up.

Eileen arrived home at about the time I decided to go practice. She helped me look for my credit card. I realized that the last time I had used it was to purchase my prescription through the drive through window at Meijer. Maybe it was in the car. It was. Whew. I walked back into the house to tell Eileen.

After practicing we went out to eat. I noticed that my phone wasn’t in my purse. I figured I had just forgotten to bring it. However, when we came home, it was not on the charge stand where I try to keep it.

Eileen and I drove to church to see if I left it there when practicing. No sign of it. We stopped off at Evergreen Commons to see if anyone had turned it in. I seem to remember having it with me when I exercised. This is probably last time I remembered having it.

We came home and searched the house.  I returned to church and looked more thoroughly not neglecting to check in the office to see if someone had found it at the organ and turned it in. Nothing.

Finally we gave up. I am losing my mind.

If I don’t find it today I guess I will report it to the phone people and see what happens. Ay yi yi.

I lay in the darkness this morning (without my phone) and read in Dyson’s Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America.

Dyson is a Baptist minister I confused Dyson with Rev William Barber with whom I have been impressed.

However, this book has something to say.

I was impressed how Dyson has written a text for anyone, not just believers. In this, he reminds me of Thomas Merton. Dyson narrates a church service about racism for whites. The first chapter is called “Hymns of Praise.”

Laying in the darkness this morning I made a Spotify playlist of the songs he talks about.

I have been listening to them this morning, hoping that the loud hip hop will not disturb Eileen.

Hymns of Praise

Take the word “overseer, ” like a sample
Repeat it very quickly in a crew for example
Overseer
Overseer
Overseer
Overseer
Officer, Officer, Officer, Officer!
Yeah, officer from overseer
You need a little clarity?
Check the similarity!
The overseer rode around the plantation
The officer is off patrolling all the nation

Watch this one.

I pulled out my banjo this weekend and played it to help with the Hosanna sung at the beginning of the Palm Sunday service. I enjoyed this. I was surprised that my lack of calluses didn’t seem to be much of an issue.

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, I have been listening to the Pentangle and thinking about how I developed my taste for medieval music and other musics. This morning I listened to solo albums I know well by John Renbourn and Bert Jansch.

When I heard Renbourn playing Bransle Gay, it reminded me that I never did learn this piece well despite loving it.

All of this is to say that I pulled out my nylon string guitar today, brought it to room temp, and then tuned it and played a bit. I never stopped loving the guitar, only playing it. When I opened the case, I was amused to find a palm from Palm Sunday (probably last year). I think I might be inspired to pick up my guitar and banjo again for the lovely hell of it.

During my organ practice yesterday afternoon, I thought about what to play for Easter II. Naji Hakim has written a piece based on “O Sons and Daughters.” This is the hymn about Thomas the doubter that we sing every Easter II since that’s the gospel.

I pulled out Hakim piece and also one of Dandrieu’s two sets of variations on it.

The Hakim captured my imagination. It’s a bit of a handful, but I probably could learn it in time. However, he barely quotes the melody. Dandrieu is much more accessible that way.

I decided to learn both pieces, but use the Dandrieu for Easter II. It’s an Offertoire which is essentially theme and 11 variations. These are very short. At this point, I’m planning on Theme plus 5 variations for the prelude and the remaining 6 variations for the postlude. This French Classical music sits wonderfully on the Pasi and both it and Hakim will be fun to learn and perform.

Eileen has jumped into her Mini and driven up to Whitehall for a visit with her Mom. it’s a beautiful day for a drive. I didn’t skip my martini last night, but was glad to see that my BP and weight are continuing to fall. This evening I probably will skip it.

Poem: “You’re Dead, America” By Danez Smith

I finished reading Danez Smith’s book of poetry, Don’t Call Us Dead, this morning. I think he is a good poet. The linked poem was one that I liked. These lines hit me:

the man from TV

is gonna be president
he has no words

& hair beyond simile
you’re dead, America

& where you died
grew something worse –