Beff's semester finishes today, and she is due home after dark tonight. Tomorrow night we take Big Mike out for Chinese buffet
Download 2.79 Mb.
|
| I write this to you on a another dreary Saturday morning -- the Day of Rain, as we are calling it, until we stop calling it that. Rather than splaining right here, I will sum up: I went to California and came back. The cats came back. Things back to the median. And Geoffy is here for most of the next week, except for when he's not.
After that last so-called update, raking did I, and much so, too. Since I was getting as much done before The Trip as I possibly could. Things went as expected at the 'Deis on Monday, at which time I introduced the concepts of chorale harmonization (despite insisting that the original chorale tune is immutable, I predict at least 4 instances in which students change the notes to match their dastardly harmonic schemes -- plus, I predict several instances where harmonizations plow right through the fermatas ... for you see, I have done, before, this). Getting back after class was key, since, well, you know, I had my alarm set for 3 am in order to be plenty on time for my departing-at-6 flight. And so. As is almost always the case, I was up before off went the alarm. All was uneventful, I got into the car and drove airportwards, only to find a confusing sign about exiting at Copley Square. Crappoliciously, part of the Mass Pike had been closed for ... for something ... and there was a confusing, mediocrely marked detour down Stuart Street, et al, with a plethora of options for reentering the highway when the time came. I chose one, not understanding my fate, and it happened to be the right one. 4 in the morning is not a good time for driving anxiety, but what choice was there? The aiport experiences and the flights were nonevents, mostly. In the second flight -- Chicago to Sacramento -- unexplainable, the pilot came on and said, "people on the left of the plane..." (I was on the right) "... that's Denver below us, and that means just an hour or an hour and a half to Sacramento". Which, when I looked at my watch, seemed that we would be an hour to an hour and a half early. Turns out the pilot wasn't correct. We were exactly on time. Got my luggage I did, got my rental car I did, and drive to Sam and Laurie's I did, in record time. My new Garmin did a good job getting me there (though it left out the "turn left" off the exit, but I got it), Laurie was home and composing, Sam was at work, and two black cats were there to be cats. Sam shortly took me to lunch (I paid, but he drove) at In-N-Out nearby, which was pretty good fast food, made to order. Sam got the Animal Fries, or maybe it was Monster Fries, I don't recall. Sort of like an Ultimate Nacho, except with fries. I declared it edible, and ate it. It was also 80 degrees out, and that ain't Celsius, baby. The next day was Wednesday, by virtue of the calendar. For this day I was to colloquialize at Berkeley, which had been set up by Ken. He had never told me a time, but it was online as 3-5. Which turned out to be the time of a music department faculty meeting. So it got recast as 5:15. And I drove to Berkeley (one hour, approximately), though a bunch of American Recovery and Reinvestment Act stuff on University Ave that added at least 15 minutes to the trip (to cover about a mile), and after voluminous circling in the neighborhood, I found parking. Then found parking again, later, right in front of CNMAT, a building where tech stuff happens. As well as my colloquiage. Ken drove up in the 4:50 dusk and tried to set up playback and ... given that the building generates the forefront of sound technology ... was amused that the first setup for playback produced massive distortion. More things involving wires and boxes and plugs happened, and I was able to play my stuff without worry, and soon I was done. The group then headed to Jupiter -- not the planet (I wish), just the pizza joint. Where I had a red beer and a red pizza. And drove back to Sam n Laurie's, where at 10:30 they were still up. Kids, you know. Thursday was Keynote Speech Day, and I arranged meeting with Steve Blumberg, who directs the Festival of New American Music, which is the event at which I keynoted speeched -- and the Garmin helped get me there, I parked in faculty parking, and got ready for a speech. Several classes were brought in for this event, as well as locals, and what I presumed were faculty. I got introduced by Steve, yet more people poured in, and I read my speech. Which was 20 minutes, and then opened up the floor to questions. Plenty of which I got, and in the end, I can reasonably say ... I totally killed. After the speech, Steve took me and Asha Srinivasan, a visiting composer from Wisconsin, to lunch. I had a panini, because there is no such thing as a panini no-no. Then I went back to Woodland (Sam and Laurie) and then back to the festival for the gala concert ... at 6:30, Marilyn Nonken was doing her dress rehearsal, and I made movies of the two tood she was doing on the gala concert for UToob (see green links on left). Marilyn sounded great as usual. And the gala itself was broadcast live on local NPR, with an emcee from the station and the format was ... talk to composer, play some music, repeat. I was first. Asha, and Andy Rindfleisch, and Rich Festinger were other composers on the docket, and all went according to plan. The other acts on the concert were a fl/cl duo and the Meridian Arts Ensemble, who sounded fantastic, especially in this totally bitchin David Sanford piece. When the concert was over, I was totally ready to go to the bathroom. And drive back to Woodside. So I did. Friday morning I played and talked about Stolen Moments for a composer thing back at the festival, and then I drove to Berkeley for a day and night with His Rossness. The Garmin got me there splendiferously, and we went to the Pyramid Brewery -- in the rain! -- for lunch and let his two lovely dogs off at a local park for exercise on the way back. Then there was computer play, Ross went to a rehearsal of a piece of his while I formatted the two videos for UToob and uploaded them, and we went Italian for dinner. Then more computer play, and to bed. Separately. The next day there was a long hike with the dogs in Tilden Park (from which we could see the Bay), and back I went to Woodland. For you see, Noche Cerveza dell'Ouest was to happen there, and Ken made it all happen, as usual. Ken brought sausages for dinner, and we went to Food4Less for firewood and ice, had our sausages, and indulged ourselves with beerness. The Meridian Arts guys, Ross, and even Ed E.J. Cubs came over, and boy, there ain't no stoppin' us now! So there. Sunday Laurie had to go to concerts for performances of a big piece she tossed together quickly, so I took Sam and Annabel to lunch in Davis. Then there was nap time. Then there wasn't. And there was an Empyrean Ensemble concert with pieces by Ross and Eddie to hear that very night. That very night. That very, very night. They were great. And so we drove back to Woodland. Again. Monday was the night of Marilyn's concert. So in the interval before, there was time to movieize the other two toods Marilyn was doing (see green links on left), and I did. There was a pre-concert thing with Steve Blumberg, Elizabeth Hoffman, Rich Festinger and me, and that was short and slightly tart, and then there was the concert. All went fantastically, and Marilyn ended with a Drew Baker piece that used only the extremes of the piano and eighth notes for a long time, got louder, and louder, and ended. And I liked it! Then back I came, went to sleep, woke up at 3:45 am for my 6:21 plane, drove to Avis, took my flights, paid for parking, and drove home in the twinking of an eye before the beginning of rush hour. And the house was both as and where I left it. Meanwhile, I had caught the cold that was going around the SamNLaurie household, and it has grown in stature within my body since my return. Wednesday was a normal teaching day, and even with the help of lozenge-like things, making it all the way through the teaching day turned out to be nothing short of miraculous. Nonetheless, the raking beckoned. For you see, Beff's help was available this weekend but not next, so getting as much done as possible was much to have been being desired. So before the sun set -- which was not much time after my re-arrival -- I finished up the two side yards. Which was quite a lot, actually. Thursday morning before I set off for school -- and at 7:45, it turns out -- I cleaned up the front and back yards, and the area to the side of the garage. And went in to teach and for Rand Steiger's colloquium -- which it turns out, was FANTASTIC. And that night, Beff was back with the cats, and Geoffy got in late. All is as it should be. So yesterday morning Beff and I spent cleaning up the back behind the shed and the "L" part of the yard. And right now the season raking total stands at 94 barrels. After today's storm, all that will be left is the oak tree detritus behind the garage, and that will be maybe 10 or 15 barrels. And, sigh, another raking year will have a-passed. Stay tuned here for the final totals. After the raking was lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen, as usual for a Friday, a trip to Trader Joe's, and a long fire in the fireplace. For you see, Beff got a cold, too, but for once not from me (or mine from her). Fire good. I made salmon. Fire good. And soon after this update is posted I am to be phone-interviewed for something or other in Classical Notes in Friday's Globe. Apparently a microconcerto world premiere AND an etudes CD release is overwhelming. Or something. And so what's coming up. Mikronomicon is next Friday, at Tsai. The Marine Band is recording Cantina next week, and I have been made privy to some online rehearsal recordings. All is totally bitchin. This morning Geoffy played through some Mikronomicon licks -- it is a concerto just for him, dontcha know -- and they sounded amaziferouslitudinousness. On a good piano, even better. And then there's the melodica. Woo hoo! Geoff learned how to play the melodica, which is good, because he has to in my piece. Tomorrow Beff leaves early for Maine, and I may do some raking. Otherwise, much grading to do. Monday, photo for Globe. Thursday, rehearsal. Friday, concert. More Marine Band rehearsals to listen to. Life is ... actually, just slightly complicated. But then ... there is Thanksgiving, which we are doing in Albany. Big sigh. Oh yeah -- Tuesday to Toyota for RECOMMENDED required maintenance, eye appointment, and much grading. Wednesday, the Chopin 2nd Sonata slow movement and something about rhythm in Theory. And so, to the rest of the week. Today's pix include Sam and Laurie's treehouse, the view of the Golden Gate from Tilden Park, Ross's trampoline, Ross's dog June, Ross, and moi. Bye. NOVEMBER 28 Breakfast was leftover apple pie, lemon-limeade, and coffee. Dinner was Margherita pizza. Lunch was a salad with balsamic vinaigrette dressing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 27.0 and 66.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Finale of Tchaikovsky 6th. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST Cat watering device with accoutrements, $78; two bottles of Rosso di Montalcino, $85; one bottle of Brunello, $42; routine service at Toyota $128, new Art Nouveau chair $185. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Jiffy Lube -- who jammed the oil filter into the housing such that the housing had to be destroyed and replaced to change the oil. Extra cost to me: $51. Amount of business Jiffy Lube gets from me from now until I die: $0. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Toyota of Littleton (yes, it's really called that) for the free wi-fi and breakfast, during which I was able to get four letters of rec out during what would otherwise have been wasted time. PET PEEVE online recommendation systems that require an uploaded file rather than entered text that then tell you your uploaded file has exceeded the file size limit. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the couple of years that Beff and Martler and I were housemates in grad school, Beff was our sole representative at a particular grad seminar. Here I step back for a moment and let the reader(s) know that our time at Princeton was still during its groovy era, during which there were no grades and no required classes. I.e., zero classes was a full load, and so was three. So Martler and I tooled away at home (despite our lack of tools), and late in the afternoon when Beff got back from the seminar, she sighed, "I just can't get any empathy for my point of view." To which I replied, "I know exactly how you feel." Rim shots lined the cosmos. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy occasionally does the teeny meow thing, and Sunny stays on the bed in the morning no matter what. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Sackajawah, a sedimentary mineral formed from combinations of granite, talc and calcite, which was inexplicably usurped for background vocals in the disco era. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 14. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can perform all of Jesus Christ Superstar from memory (which works best as a duo with Hayes). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Major sevenths and minor ninths are truly yummy. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 180. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.63 in Waltham, $2.95 in Colonie, New York. RANDOM MUSINGS OF AN OBSTETRICIAN my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight. Tessitura and apples became intextricably intertwined in the other dimension where we were swimming. Of course, that doesn't mean we started barking -- on the contrary, fourteen is the loneliest number (except after e). If we hadn't refrigerated so snugly, it's clear the troopers and troupers could have homonymed their way out of the balloon, but when the ladybugs heard about it, I couldn't see the Trafalgar Square replicas. No bother -- I couldn't have smoked a flashlight anyway. The last update came on a dreary Saturday, and this one comes on an equally dreary one, though windy instead of rainy, and as a result, there's a whole mess o' pine cones scattered about in the back yard that we'll have to pick up soon. I hate it when that happens. Almost as much as you, dear reader, hate to read about it happening. I'll try to be better, or maybe I won't. As reader(s) know, the weather in California transmogrified from mid-August to November while I was there, so I was well-prepared for east coast weather upon my re-entry, since they were having some there, and then here. And when I got back to the teaching thing, well, there it was. A last gasp of chorale writing was followed by the Chopin funeral march thing (the B-flat minor music never gets a dominant, and I called the quarter rest between a D-flat cadence and the non-dominanted resumption of the B-flat minor music analagous to a blank tile in Scrabble. I could have been wrong) and half a class worth of stuff about advanced rhythm things in Western music. That half class turned out to be far too short, so return to that topic I will this Monday, and speaking in the passive voice will be done by me. Although sometimes you have to refer to yourself in second person singular. The next topic was the Waldstein sonata, a very dominant topic indeed, if knowing what I mean is done by you. And, and, and ... only three days of classes left in the term! Though, more for me because of makeup lessons owing to my trip to California. Yes, even though the term ends on December 2, I will be teaching lessons as late as December 12. Which, if you are clever, you can discover is a Saturday. Am I dedicated, or what? Do I ask too many rhetorical questions? (second person) Are you dedicated, or what? Do you ask too many rhetorical questions? As to other un-school mundane things, just a few obsessive rake-a-mundos to take care of other small bits of leafiness here and there -- as well as the future cone-a-thon already mentioned. Beff's time here last weekend was short owing to her need to return for a student's recital on Saturday afternoon. So this weekend, which is in the process of being Thanksgiving weekend, she is here for the long haul, part of which we spent in a long hall. Today's tasks? Grading for me, grading for Beff, and perhaps a bit of a nice walk. And, then, but ... Geoffy was around for a significant portion of this last reporting period, since he was doing Musica Viva. As usual, this meant never having to wash the dishes (unless you were Geoffy), and a nice Cast Iron Kitchen meal, Geoffy's treat. It also meant tons of practice time at Brandeis, since not only was Geoffy doing this gig, but also preparing for a Bauhaus show with She That Is Maria at the MoMA, coming up real soon now. On the weekend, we made a little video of Geoffy going through the opening of the finale of my piece that was written for him, on the keyboard in the guest room, and at other times we didn't. My only role in this entire undertaking -- and of course I had a role because, hey, I had a premiere and stuff -- was to hear a rehearsal on Thursday morning (don't get me started on how I had to rearrange my teaching to do that -- okay, get me started) and make a brief microphoned statement at the actual gig. So I followed Geoffy to the rehearsal venue -- a big church on Beacon Street in Brookline -- with my Garmin as backup, did Starbucks, and listened in. I made various little comments, enjoyed immensely the sound of the melodicas in the Pierrot ensemble (Geoffy AND Bob), and noted to self how strange and brittle the piano sounded when it reentered after the dueling melodicas. Indeed, to myself I said, "how strange and brittle is that piano sound after hearing the dueling melodicas." The inner me is very literal. Then I drove back to Brandeis to resume my many-altered schedule, and the route took me through my old neighborhood from 1985-88. The four lost years! Okay, not lost. More like unpointful. On the day of the show, there was a featurette on me, Mikronomicon (the name of said BMV piece), and Toods 3 in the Globe, and the online version is linked via the blue link to the left. I got some paper copies, and declined to go to the dress rehearsal ("I decline to go to the dress rehearsal," I was heard saying, or maybe I was just thinking it). I did the customary lunch, Beffless though, at Cast Iron Kitchen, and told the Door and Window people they could see me in that day's Globe, as well as the wait staff at the Cast Iron Kitchen, and they though I was what they call "shitting" them. Yes, it sounded even more implausible when I brought up that it was in the "g" section, since they though I was making a joke. Not as big as the joke that the "g" section has been since its inception, however. Did I mention that we terminated our Globe delivery some while ago? The existence of the "g" section was on the list of why. But I seem to have digressed (second person) but you seem to have digressed. Incidentally, (second person) you got the artichoke hearts and steak sandwich for lunch, and saved half the artichoke hearts for Beff because (third person plural) they were getting back mid-afternoon, specifically to see Geoffy play the melodica fast and loud. Geoffy, meanwhile, apparently had a mild-to-medium case of food poisoning that day, ostensibly from the calamari he'd had the night before. Amazingly, he was fine and peppy when he got back for his 3:30 nap, and (third person plural) all of them went with Geoffy in his car to the gig -- where, amazingly, and (second person) you never knew this, there is plenty of onstreet parking in the bowels of the BU neighborhood. We got a little dinner, and I had a 6:45 interview with a visiting British journalist named Igor Hyphenated-Name (underlying point: you Americans can have fun in music and we Brits can't) -- he quoted a number of British composers of whom I had not heard, so I dropped some names of British composers of whom I have heard, of whom (second person) you haven't heard. Then it was on to John Harbison for him, and to Beff for me. And on our walks back and forth down those long halls near the Tsai Performance Center, Beff pointed to where she once worked. I was interested because it turns out it was a) during the unpointful years just mentioned and b) I had recommended her for that job. Or (second person and first person plural) you had recommended us for that job. Then was the gig itself. Groovy Schwantner with wine glasses and just one chord, groovy Davy, intermission. Chris Arrell Narcissus piece with one chord, Ives songs arranged. Really cool Bernard Hoffer piece for encore, which had me a-hummin' the tunes. Lots of really old people said they liked my piece, many of whom mentioned the two-note ostinato in the slow movement, or my description of it and its quantity (99 of 'em) during microphone time. Indeed, Derek J mentioned that the ostinato's first manifestation (piano and vibes in double octaves) sounded like a Fender Rhodes. Why, I never (third person plural) why, they never. Then we came home. The next morning I made Denny's grand slam breakfasts for us all, using Trader Joe's frozen pancakes (woo hoo!) and Beff took a photo for her Facebook page. Then off went Beff, off went Geoffy, and out came the grading. Everything else was just a light. Trips were made to good wine stores for good wine, and I also managed a fiver of Bitter Lemon -- very hard to find anywhere, but they have it at the old fashioned market in West Concord -- which means I now can make proper Butler specials. And they have unlimited varieties of vastly overpriced Rosso di Montalcino across the street. So we planned to vastly overdrink some. On a parallel reality track that week was Mike and the Marines doing a proper studio recording of Cantina. I got access to their online mp3s so I could follow along and ask questions, and by Friday there were rough edits of all four movements with which to play, and to play way too loud on headphones, plenty of which was done by me. I now actually like the piece, whereas in the previous go-round I was rather ambivalent about it. They played the drummy stuff in the finale SO fast that it literally sounds impossible. And the scary bass clarinet solo sounded fambolous -- which is only appropriate, since it was being played by the movement's dedicatee. As far as I can tell, there is no official release for this recording, but it's a good thing to have and to hold. I mean, okay. It's hot. So the recording of this piece means I have officially (on the third try) learned how to write for band. Putting "writing for band" and especially "wanting to write for band" in my rear-view mirror (third person plural) in their rear-view mirror. So this week involved Thanksgiving plans, and so it did. Beff had to work till eight on Tuesday night and STILL had to write a memo (for you see, (first person plural) we are Chair). Thus she left Wednesday morning. I, meanwhile, did my Wednesday morning teaching at the 'Deis, and got back about 45 seconds after Beff -- who had stopped in Maynard to pick up our T'giving apple pie, which I'd ordered 'n' paid fer a week earlier. Quickly we got the stuff together and were off Albanywards at 12:30. In the (sigh) drizzle and rain. Massive traffic slowups (or slowdowns, ironically with the same meaning) around Worcester, but we made it, and made it we did. Yep, looks like we made it. Wozzeck we made it. I am stalling here. Final destination: Latham, New York, Beff's sister's house, and her son Jack, a junior in high school was present. Dinner was had, beer was had, and videos were watched. Sleeping was done, and totally passive it was. I had noticed a cat watering device with a little waterfall in it, which reminded me of how much OUR cats like to wait around in the bathtub for the occasional drips from the oldstyle faucet. So I found it online and ordered it! Woo hoo! And on Thanksgiving Day proper, a walk in the neighborhood was had, cooking and eating were done, and more videos were watched, except by me. Bonding was done with Grim, the black and white cat. And then sleeping was done. Again! Meanwhile, Ann has some nice Arts and Crafts style stuff in her house which is very nice for the design. She had brought up that she had gotten a bunch of it at a salvage place in the warehouse district of Albany, and she and Beff planned a Friday morning trip there. And it was ironic thing to think -- oh, the salvage place. What a chick thing! But I came along for the ride. And there, in addition to bonding with the dog and cat attached to the place, I got some garlic and spicy pickles, pickled tomatoes, and Beff got a necklace and a nice Art Nouveau style chair for $185. This was followed by a chick walk in a funky nearby neighborhood and a return, and drive back to Maynard -- in the rain, of course, and VERY briefly in a bit of mixed precipitation. Music by Fiona Apple. Download 2.79 Mb. Share with your friends:
|