Aug 29

The end of summer- and a brief recap:

Driving long hours can makes time disappear completely.  Now to learn how to do that on command.

Last summer was frisbee summer; this one was biking summer.  I think I covered enough ground to get to the middle of Maine.  But not back. Exhilirating is an understatement, mostly for the pure excitement of biking, but also for chalking up the miles (slightly obsessively).  I do miss frisbee.  Maybe Ultimate frisbee on bikes is in store for next summer.

Somehow, the summer solstice really is the middle of the summer- after that day, time starts to disappear twice as quickly.

I took three trips this summer- Crete/Madrid/Amsterdam; home'd to New Mexico, and Pamplemousse'd down to South Carolina.  I ended up in completely different mental states after each one, and looking back I feel as though that European adventure must've happened a year ago at least, more likely three... maybe that's something I subconciously like about travelling so much- the complete time warp I get in retrospect, and the mind fuck of adventure-saturation.

Being homesick- it really hits like a virus, completely overtaking every part of my mental capacity, until every wonderful person I meet and every exotic new place I see only accentuates my love for the familiar faces and places, the conversations that begin and end nowhere but are somehow so much more meaningful than those early dictations of information between strangers.

Thinking about the 10000 hours thing...  

Learning to be still.  Separating from the flow of minutes, then eventually hours.  Looong layovers in foreign airports are a wonderful training ground.

How little Amsterdam differed from my memory of it, although six years have passed.

Watching myself on video has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life.  I am sad to say that the sober videos are much more incriminating than the drunk ones.

Spending large amounts of time with people I love is never disappointing- they never cease to amaze me. 

Travel as a concept.

Now summer's drawing to a close, I've got a slight bug that's probably just a manifestation of the vague nervousness I have for the upcoming weeks, and I have no idea what the upcoming year shall bring. 

!!

Aug 16

A day of beginning too early yesterday and ending too late to still be called today, but totally worth it for the unbelievable view at destination, upon pulling up to the Pamplemousse home for the next week at the Rensing Center, of the Milky Way, complete with meteor shower and a star doing some unnamed astronomical phenomena where the gases surrounding it are so active it splits in two, one red one bue, smashed one atop the other until rotation spins it into singularity again.

Aug 5-9

Getting out- possibly the single most important survival technique to living in the city, second (maybe) only to the ability to say "no."

I went home to New Mexico last week and had one of those rare trips when timing and circumstance lent themselves perfectly to a total clearing of my mind.  I get so entrenched, narcisitically, and for some reason the desert- in all its other-worldly splendor- is a fresh, well-deserved and appreciated slap in the face.  It's impossible to stay in my head when the sky is so huge I can't actually see it, and the rocks are so weird and beautiful I can't really believe they exist on the same planet as 1 Broadway Terrace, and the silence is so deafening it wakes me up, to ghosts' whispers and whistles...

July 19

There's a few musicians I've met over the years that bear an incredible, unique trait- an honesty so profound and simple that it has the ability to cause a fulfillment or surpassing of a performer's potential.  I never quite realized that's what it was until a concert I went to last week, a singer/songwriter show of an old friend. I didn't go for any deep realizations- I went for the bike ride and the hang, which are my reasons for lots of things I go to. But somehow, this collision of events-a random concert where I was quite out of place, and this good friend of mine playing his natural, wonderful part- well, it was awesome. And I realized there's a few people that do that to me, and I am so thankful for them.

In a way my whole trip in Greece was an exercise in relinquishing control- a country where even the written characters are different, and my brain does not compute; people value different characters in a personality, and therefore it is more difficult for me to understand their character and empathize; time is fluid and somewhat nonexistent; organization is unimportant.  And yet I am at the mercy of the familiar, desiring it deeply and instinctively, maybe in an effort to infuse a situation with lasting memory and value. 

Jun 4

It's funny to make temporary friends all the time; I met some people in the plane on the way to Athens from Madrid, an older couple on an extended adventure through Europe.  I was tremendously relieved (after 12 hours alone with no conversation to speak of, except the little old lady and her shoemaker) to have new friends to chat with, if only briefly.  Bizarrely, I ran into them again today at the airport in Athens, me on my way back to Madrid and they on their way to Istanbul.  It's always fun to have such coincidental shocks, however brief and potentially meaningless.

Jun 3

Swimming, especially in the ocean or sea, is the one activity that empties my brain completely.  For a brief time I forget everything that usually clutters my thoughts and surrender to the vast body of water that could so easily sweep me away.

May 29

Arriving in Athens is a dream- I can barely see straight for jet lag and everything I try to read is gobbly-gook. I stared at the airport monitors for a solid minute before I realized that I couldn't understand a thing, until the English rolled over.

funny how the switch can happen almost instantaneously- from being a loner to being lonely and seeking company.  It's a decision I have to make- to seek out friends, regardless of the initial discomfort.  And the leap of faith is well-rewarded- I am entertained for the evening, plied with drinks of many colors, danced with, and taken on a night walk.

2 sunsets, a sunrise, and a harvest moon- not a bad beginning to vacation.

Now in Crete- landing on the island was heart of darkness-like- a mountain of rock rising out of the ocean with its shadowy ghost behind.

May 19

My birthday!

I've always loved birthdays, and I've never understood when people don't want to celebrate their own.  I get that the passage of time can be painful, but who doesn't love a good excuse to throw a party and see all your friends, AND be the center of attention?

I had a particularly nice one this year, beginning right at midnight in the Bronx with free shots, courtesy of the bartender, and 3 Pianists, and culminating in a karaoke bar in Chinatown with the most wonderfully random conglomerate of my friends ever.  My friends are pretty awesome people, and I am so happy to have had an excuse to remember how much I love and need them.

May 6

There's a cat couple that hangs out on the rooftop across from my back window.  They've been there for a few weeks now, and it's the most wonderful courtship to watch.  Simply enjoying each other's company, walking around and gently bumping into one another, playfully tackling and then aggresively cleaning each other, taking long, slow walks around the rooftop, sometimes one running a little to make the other catch up, then settling down for a languid cat nap in a sheltered corner.  At night, when one is missing, the other calls out with the echo-location that Sonya used to use when she found herself in a new environment- loud, hollow yelps- until the partner returns.

May 3

One of my favorite things about springtime is riding my bike at night, especially late on weeknights when the streets are fairly deserted, coasting through the tiny leaf snow that stretches endlessly along riverside park.  Last night I became acutely aware of the particular scent Washington Heights acquires during the spring, before the putrid summer stench settles in- a mix of barbecue, rain, pot, wet pavement, and something slightly acrid, maybe transmission fluid.  It's a warm, comfortable smell, like all is right for these few brief weeks before the hellish, oppresive summer heat arrives.

April 25

Marcello Rilla's recital

Totally blown away, performance pieces that actually, actually moved me, which I am sad to say doesn't happen very often- absolutely beautiful tiny sounds, small objects moving down long strands of wire, spectacular vocals, blowing water off the hands, stunningly sad in places, helplessly smiling at exquisite sound of junk on wire.

April 24

Wayne Krantz Trio at Highline Ballroom

One of my favorite bands from my early years in New York, always a thrill and happiness happening. Curiously, I experienced the same feeling as when Pamplemousse played at LPR- a lack of intimacy, detachment from the sound.  I guess I really don't like hearing live music through speakers when it blocks the acoustic sound. Also the band had a different vibe than they used to... at the 55 bar it was fun and jovial, at the Highline it was serious and a little grumpy.

April 21- Pamplemousse at MATA Festival

Volcano explosions left our pianist stranded in the land of Austrians, but a brave same-named soul stepped forward to fill his shoes.  Actually, it took two.  It was shocking how different it was with a subbed member.. I expected it to be weird, and slightly awkward, and a little frantic because of the timing.  But actually it wasn't really those things, it was just wildly different.  And Mr. Friend did a great job, learned all the music in way-too-little time and performed it all very well.  But it was so, so different.  It was proof to what I've always believed, that Pamplemoussies are irreplacable.

Other things, not related to volcano madness- we were treated so well, thanks MATA, it was a total pleasure, as if we were on a little performance vacation.  Not doing sound was peculiar.. I've gotten so used to doing everything, madly computing internally to ensure that nothing is forgotten, unplugged, misplugged, turned on, turned off, at the wrong time, that having it all taken care of was... strange.  Nice, yes, in a way, but I guess I sort of like the madness of it. Performing was comfortable, like a rehearsal with pretty lights.  Packed house, great music, yay Pamplemousse!

Also, I think I've decided I really miss the intimacy when we play larger spaces.  There's something to be said for seeing your audience and knowing they are hearing what you're playing.

April 7-12

I went to California last week, my first trip to the northern part of the state. Generally, it was a fantastic trip, and I was somewhat loathe to return to my local construction site, surround sound idling engines, pet cockroaches, and *wonderful* luck with public transporation. I experienced something peculiar while I was over there- a sudden and total separation from my existence here, as though I had split in two and was fully alive simultaneously in New York and SF.  I didn't even consider NY- I thought of my friends, of course, and my pet roaches, but never for a moment did I imagine I wasn't continuing to fully exist there while I was here.  (here...there...) Unfortunately my NY doppel didn't do any work while I was in CA..

I've always felt somewhat at home in California- mostly because I've spent lots of time there with my family- and it always somewhat feels like coming home, (even on my last LA trip, which wasn't so great) although it's never been.

Easter

My mama's favorite holiday has always been Easter, due in no small part to the quantity of flowers present in Europe on this holiday. I always liked it because it was a free excuse to see her happy, and I got presents and candy as a bonus, which played hide-and-seek with me in the sometimes snow-filled backyard.  This year I had an unexpectedly wonderful Easter. Most of the day was spent in a painful, tremendous hangover, the kind where dying seems a gracious escape- an experience not unlike that of waking up at 5am for several consecutive days. I spontaneously went to Easter dinner in Brooklyn, miraculously arriving in just over an hour, and had one of the best meals of my life, surrounded by a collection of people composing the ideal dinner party- interesting, chatty, friendly, and hungry. 

April 1

There's a lot of hard things about being a musician- making money, creating music most people don't understand or like, too much time, too little time, justifying your existence- mostly minor, silly things.  Recently I realized one reason most of us artist-types keep ourselves on such insanely busy schedules- or why I do anyway: one of my favorite things to do is perform, and a fabulous, free treat is the high one gets after a great performance.  As anyone who's ever eaten too much candy at Halloween knows, highs are followed by crashes, and crashes are best avoided by continually eating candy or by keeping oneself too busy to notice the crash. 

Mar 24-April 1

I've been making a lot of transitory friends lately, but true friends, not just temporary one-night-stand friends.  I meet them at auditions, festivals, concerts, and we hit it off in that wonderful, tangible way, where the potential of friendship is endless, and even though we may never see each other again, or we'll see each other in a few months or years, it's real, somehow, inexplicably solid- relationships surpassing the limitations and expectations of time and geography.

Mar 23

For the most part, I am quite content to be an "adult."  I enjoy responsibility, to some extent- I like being able to take care of my friends; having the knowledge and ability to make things I want happen; teaching, cooking, drinking, driving (not together)- all sorts of things you can't do as a kid.  But every once in a while, I remember nostalgically that wonderful social freedom that small children have, to fall asleep wherever they please- on the couch before dinner; under the snacks table during parties; in the middle of a TV show or movie (well, I still do that); during an endless movement at an orchestra concert- perfect opportunities for a nap, which often actually heighten the pleasure of the situation.  Sadly, at some point this becomes socially unacceptable, and naps are rare treats only indulged in private..

Mar 21

A wonderful Pamplemousse concert- at some point we got to this level where playing is really more like hanging out, conversations of the truest sort.  And it's this familiarity, comfort level, and overall feeling of beautiful integrity that makes me completely faithful that the group will continue to exist despite geographical boundaries.  Partly thanks to the wonderful collection of outspoken and humorous attitudes, and partly to the rough patches we've been through that have cemented the group together.

Mar 19

Today I was in LA, and yesterday.  Approximately 24 hours, total.  I've spent a lot of time here, but never in musical situations- always family reasons.  It was a very peculiar trip.. I had two wildly different musical experiences during the course of about four hours.

In one situation was a host of wonderful, humble, obviously great (in the true sense of the word) older musicians, teachers at CalArts, who positively thrilled me with their attitudes, reaction to my music (which they didn't necessarily like), and ability to be subjective, generally speaking.  This, to me, is a moral high point to acheive in life.   I have certainly not arrived there, but it's nice to see that people do.

The second situation was odd..there was a strange combination of Philly-attitude (sort of passive aggressive New York envy) and hypocritical close-mindedness.  I say "hypocritical" because my impression of the LA new music scene (constructed in no small part by the way the musicians promote themselves) has always been of an overly open group of people, willing to accept nearly everything so long as it is presented with a good attitude. In actuality, the musicians I met seemed totally unreceptive to the music I presented- granted, I was completely zonked by the time I arrived at this second performance and will be the first to admit that it wasn't one of my finest stage moments.  Yet there seemed to be a wall, which eventually came down when I played some pretty things... the musicians I played with were good musicians- that is, they listened and responded without being obvious or confrontational.  But they responded in ways that made it somehow impossible to step outside the limits of "pretty".. it sort of reminded me of my jazz days, when I constantly felt inept unless I played fast and virtuosically .. and there is a reason I quit that.

Mar 10

Aliens

A few days ago my best friend and I were transformed into creatures from outer space, sent to planet Earth as receptacles of information.  We paraded from bar to club, meeting and greeting an assortment of women who had been gathering sources of confidential information for weeks to share with our fresh, non-human ears.  No sooner would we enter into casual conversation between ourselves than a new human would approach, filled with tales of horror and wonder to astound and shock us. The night ended with our information hampers filled to the brim with stories and anecdotes that would someday be valuable, maybe.

Feb 22-26

In Raleigh this week, I had the wonderful experience of sharing the joys of electronic music with 180 children aged 5-12.  It was an absolute delight, both as a thoroughly invigorating learning experience for me and as an all-encompassing source of entertainment.  I don't teach large numbers of children on a regular basis- I teach private music lessons, but I rarely have more than one student under my watch.  Experiencing children in a learning environment is delightful.  They (mostly) pay attention; they enjoy making the mental connections between the current task and previous similar ones; and they experiment freely, often finding completely unique sounds and patterns. And each of my twenty classes was completely different from the preceding one.  It was totally amazing to me how differently each group behaved, both within their own social dynamic and in response and interaction with the electronic instruments.  Some chose to use the experience as a release of energy, aggressively pulling the loudest possible sounds from each instrument; some planned their improvisations carefully, structuring rhythm, silence, and fair share of the instrument between group members into the piece; and others improvised freely, really listening to what was going on and letting the sounds shape the improvisation. 

I owe a lot of the pleasure to the hard work of the director of the music program, my good friend from high school Corinne (Ms. Matthes, as I continually forgot to address her) (although on a similar note, I'm proud to say I didn't curse once in the presence of children).  She's done an absolutely remarkable job of demonstrating to her students that music is both fun and important, and that it's not limited to classical music or acoustic instruments- that in fact, it is limitless- an essential bit of knowledge to learn at a young age, before the walls of boundary potentials start to rise.  

The education the children at that Monterssori school are receiving is marvelous, and is tragically rare.  Really, the most significant difference (in my opinion) between the Montessori method and public school teaching curriculums is the philsophy that children enjoy learning; that it feels good to make neural connections and figure things out- problem solving, picture-making, experimenting. Rather than being subjected to adult pressures and complexities- made to pass standardized tests of little or no educational value, for example- they are allowed to be children as they are learning, struggling with some tasks and finding others extraordinarily simple.  Where challenges are lacking in a particular area, the child uses his imagination to challenge himself, or the teacher encourages futher exploration, which is both inspiring and educational for the child. (Obviously public school teachers are also battling class sizes, faulty parenting, admin struggles, and other obstacles I can't even begin to conceive of- these difficulties are blissfully absent from the majority of these children's lives.)

Another thing I really enjoyed about being in Raleigh all week was the total freedom from New York- I escaped the terrible weather, but I was also freed from the tedium of general New York-ness, which I hadn't even realized was going on until I left.  This is actually my favorite time of year in the city- I'm constantly busy, and I have a million things to do, all of which I really enjoy and care about.  Yet outside of the city, life goes happily on, without much of the baggage inherent in a New York day.. maybe without some of the wonderful things too.. I am definitely returned to the city slightly changed, in a nice way.

Feb 22

In that world where all children grow up to be artists, one can easily identify in a class of 2nd graders the conductor, the performance artist, the music teacher, and the composer.

Feb 15

Pretty things about snow

.the perfect "v" on a maple's lowest fork
.pausing, nearly motionless, outside my kitchen window, peering in hopefully for a whiff of hot chocolate or ginger snaps
.morning quiet
.sycamore giants collecting soft clumps, shivering gleefully as they toss them down on passerbys
.happy people with sleds

Feb 14

Best Wedding Ever

Starting off traditionally with the procession (I'll admit- my favorite part of the ceremony, and where I always get a little choked up), then a concert with spectacular singers, who energized we the crowd so that we could barely keep our seats, although the dance floor was some distance into the future.. poems and nice things said, vows read, and then dancing all night, until my feet refused.. a party that brought with it the hangover that comes not from excessive drinking (although there was plenty of that) but from experiencing something so wonderful, unique, and awesome in every way, that the body needs a day or two to recover. 

Feb 13

Maybe dance was invented by an ancient, advanced civilization who had many of the comforts of modern life, like public transportation, and one day a visionary realized how beautiful are the steps of stumbling passengers on trains as they struggle to keep their balance and conversation simultaneously.

Feb 10

Memory is a funny thing.  One minute I'm basking in the light of a wonderful memory, so close I can touch it, and I feel as though I could conjure it up like an old telephone number at any given moment.  I don't even talk about it to the friends who triggered the memory because it's too obvious to me, or maybe I just want to keep it to myself.  Several hours (and beers) later, I can still feel the light of the memory, but the substance is gone completely, and I can't even rely on the transactive memory of my friends to remind me because I kept my mouth shut.

Jan 30

I taught a great lesson today. I was recording my student, in a (somewhat feeble) attempt to capture the experience of a performance- something I'm not able to offer her for a grocery list of reasons. We had recorded at the last lesson also, and she had begged for another week to work on it.  Today, she began playing her piece, and was messing up a lot, getting really discouraged and grumpy about it.  I gave her a "performance speech"- I always dread giving my students speeches because I know how smart kids can be, and if I say anything that's the slightest bit insincere I know they'll catch on.  But I was sincere, and I realized something really important about teaching- I don't have to bullshit my kids with stories of how great it is to be a musician, or how rewarding it is, or how they'll change the world.  If I can teach them what they need to hear at the right moment, it all comes naturally, and they really get it.  Which is great, because I frequently forget what it is they are supposed to be getting.  Maybe teaching is sort of like performing, in that you can't really practice for that moment, you just have to hope that all the build-up will produce something unique and beautiful at the moment you need it. 

At our lesson today, my student got it, and the post-speech try at the piece was better than any other time she's played it for me, and had a completely unique energy.  It was awesome, and she was happy, instead of crying.

You always have to choose teams.  Try as you might to be diplomatic, stay out of it, be objective, keep the peace- you always end up on one side or the other.  You choose what team you play kickball on when you're a kid (the one your best friend is on or the one the boy you like is on); you choose which part you play in open compositions; you pick who's right or wrong in a given situation, and you decide whether or not it matters; and you hold others responsible for their picks. 

I think I've decided life's too short to pick teams.  I keep loyalty to those I love, and to hell with everything else.   

Jan 18

On trust

There's various levels of trust we all experience and deal with.  There's the bottom level of trust you have towards other human beings that they won't kill you for no reason, and at the other extreme is implicit trust in someone you can't possiby conceive of hurting you.  In between is a nebulous area, levels of trust constantly shifting due to actions, words, time, boredom, or plain old craziness. 

Somewhere in that area is a notable marking point- "do I trust you to hold my ice cream cone while I pay?"

It can be as simple as a carefully wrong sentence, or as complicated as a relationship.  But the effects are the same, drastic or minor, sometimes irreparable, always difficult, the damage done frequently unknown to at least one member involved.

And the thing about falling on the trust ladder is that falling is twice as fast as climbing, and sometimes the required effort to patch it up is just too great.

Jan 12

7 Beautiful grapefruits.  for $2.99!!!

Best day all week.

Nov 25

Two sides

Riding my bike down the hills of Central Park, completely alone, going so fast I think my bike is going to fly apart but it feels so spectacular, FREE!!, and so happy to be alive...going back with the rain in my face, totally blinded, honks and danger on all sides, wheels skidding on the wet pavement.. opting for the rush-hour train instead.

Nov 19

Recently I started teaching a little girl who comes from a wealthy family.  This isn't particularly unusual in the flute-teaching line of work.  However, the level of wealth is exponentially greater than any prior I've directly been associated with.  It's been an unusually intense struggle for me.  I've never really cared one way or the other about a family's financial situation-- it's none of my business, and I don't want it to be.  But it's hard not to feel like a skilled servant when you're surrounded by the help and treated in a particular way, as outwardly friendly and warm as that may be. 

A concept I honestly never considered myself a part of before hit me today-- artists are poor people and others are rich.  Obviously it's not so black and white, but in most cases the multi-million dollar paintings hanging in multi-millionaire apartments were made by impoverished people. I am clearly not impoverished and never considered myself anything other than middle class.  However, I am at a position where I can't spend money unless it's a necessity.  Frankly, I think it's an imperative part of reality to struggle, hopefully only temporarily.  Maybe it's just vital to the creative, or real, population-- maybe these people really do think that money is the most important thing...

Given the option, I'd stay in my struggle rather than have permanent comfort.

Nov 15

I've been having a lot of nightmares recently. They're pretty much always the same- a man watching me or following me looking creepy, never does anything threatening, just hangs out and glowers.  I'm pretty sure this man lives in his tiny house inside my brain somewhere, because when I wake myself up from the nightmare a tiny spot on the top of my head throbs.  I guess he eventually gets bored and goes to sleep, because the throbbing goes away, even though the nightmare lingers, and all I can do is turn on all the lights and sleep on the couch where, for some reason, the man never follows me.

Nov 7

A couple nights ago I went to a concert that was both terrible and utterly mystifying.  A string quartet specializing exclusively in new music performed a concert that neither respected the composers nor themselves as performers.  Not only were the subtle elements that create a great performance nowhere to be found, but even basic niceties that one learns within the first five years of playing an instrument (don't make a face if you mess up) missing.  Worse, the music was totally unrehearsed and really made me understand why new music has such a small following.  If I had been in that audience as a non-musician experiecing new music for the first time, I would never seek it out again.  What's worse is they were well-paid for the concert. The majority of new music ensembles in New York, good and bad, struggle and work their asses off for little or no pay.  To see these jokers making a mockery of the composers whose work they were performing and the new music community as a whole was absolutely simultaneously hurtful and enraging. 

I sincerely hope the karmatic repercussions are severe.

Fortunately I was convinced to keep my mouth shut for a better time and place.

Oct 15- 21

The comraderie of running, especially in the evening just before sunset, when you are sharing the spectacular last gasps of color and light with your anonymous friends.. and certain pleasure in having friends where conversation is not even an option, because you are only friends for the briefest of glances and then you move your separate ways.

singular moments of beauty- last week I was diverted from my regular running route by a lake that had developed in the middle of the path, and so I took a detour and found myself underneath a spectacuar neon green canopy, shooting upwards to shield me from the sky, flourescence lighting an otherwise gray and dreary atmosphere but only for me, the lucky one.  (I tried to go back and find that path again, but alas that alternate universe only existed once.)

I babysat this week, something I sincerely never pictured myself doing.  I'm 28 and I have never held a baby, and that is just fine with me.  So imagine my surprise when I thoroughly enjoyed myself! (Granted, they were real people, not babies, but still..)

There is something really wonderful about the total self-absorption of children.  I deal with a lot of self-absorbed people (and become one myself, if I am not careful), and it tends to irritate me to no end, but somehow it's different with kids.  They are so completely unaware that the world exists outside of themselves that their approach to life is totally in the moment at all times.  Everything is of utmost importance at all times, and they must be taken seriously, even though they subconciously realize that neither of those things are true.. Taking them out of their head space with random questions or off-kilter responses is an absolute delight! and it really made me happy. I fully enjoyed the seemingly mundane act of carting them from one place to the next. 

Oct 12

Just a brief hour and a half drive from the city and a 2.5 mile (straight uphill) hike and we are surrounded by the unique solitude brought by vast mountain ranges.  Atop a six story tower, swaying slightly in the wind, the towns look completely insignificant, as they once must have been, and I'm reminded of my childhood desires to move away into the solitude of the majestic mountains.  Soon loneliness sets in and I'm happy to return to the safety of Tina Turner and mexican hot chocolate from the ice cream store.

Oct 3

Navratri Festival at Wesleyan

This was a great concert, as would be expected.  I couldn't help but think how different my jazz experience would have been if the norm in the ensembles would be to help each other along the way they do in the Indian ensembles, counting publicly on their fingers.  Made me smile every time.

Sep 23, 26

A dizzying clash of great and disastrous- an awesome Ablinger portrait concert that restored my hope in chamber music, pieces that I'd always wanted to hear but didn't know existed, in St. Peter's church, actually a good venue for that music; followed shortly by a concert ruined by its composer and its surroundings- coffee lady banging out espresso shots during the quietest moments; coffee lady talking to door lady in normal voice during silences; and the coup de grace- listening to the composer talk.  If I am ever asked to talk at a performance of my music, or at a colloquium, I will do one of two things- either I will read from a collection of children's books that I will have selected for that purpose, or I will talk nonsense.  And I am certain my audience will get more out of it than what I usually get out of listening to composers talk.

Sep 4

I went to France and Belgium on family vacation last week.  My family isn't together often, maybe two days a year, so spending an extended amount of time together is always interesting.  Among other things, an important realization- my role of caretaker in life sprouts from childhood.  I've always been under the impression that my need to take care of my friends above all else is part of my control freak-ness, but I've come to realize that it's been part of my nature since childhood.  I've always been the one to look after everyone and see to their happiness, make decisions when they need to be made (and no one else speaks up), and generally tend to the group well-being.  I enjoy it, and depend on it somewhat for my own mental well-being.

That being said, I've had my fill.

Sep 3

Dune de Pyla

Maybe one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, and also bearer of some rare happy childhood memories- running up the largest sand dune in Europe behind my older, taller, faster sister (now shorter and slower), then sliding and stumbling down to the ocean.  Memories only vaguely remembered, but confirmed by her look of glee and unclouded happiness.

||: :||. 

On one side of the tremendous body of sand lies an unbroken expanse of forest, and on the other the Atlantic.  Footprints last only a few hours before the wind erases them, and so the landscape is always somewhat untouched.  Most places seem smaller when returned to in adult life, but the dune de pyla is as majestically enormous as always- if anything, it's become more tremendous, and certainly more difficult to climb, in clumsy adult bodies.

Aug 31

the Tragedy of Dependence

an ineffable and inescapable trait of human nature- dependence on others, reliance for comfort, safety, love, compassion, criticism, praise, resistance, acceptance.  dangerous territory for the bravest.  yet is it really so bad, to invest in other human beings, allowing the possibility of hurt, relinquishing a bit of self, a bit of control; imparting some of your destiny in the hands of others? sometimes the struggle for balance between dependence and independence seems hopeless, and extremes become the only possiblity- complete and utter relinquishment of either self-control or outside-control. both extremes are fictional.

with all the hurt and struggle trusting another holds in its pregnant potential, a logical conclusion is that casting lots in friendship and love are overtly dangerous tribulations best saved for those with thicker skin.  and yet giving up on this investment of trust is more tragic than the most violent breach of it; life becomes dry, monochromatic, unbearably gray.

 completely paradoxical in nature, the human struggles towards the extremes of dependence without ever learning the capability to understand the balanced center.

Aug 9

Hiking to the top, laying out on huge boulders, listening to the choir singing around me, forgetting everything for a few blissful moments, well worth the sunburn and muscle aches.

Times they are a changin.

Aug 4

ow.

Memorable things I've done this year, that I've begun to forget:

Jan- hmm... rough month.  rough year's beginning.  Tall Brown Boots concert, touchy pieces, I liked those- acquired new trust in neck touching. residency at Diapason, daytimes with foggy sunlight streaming in, dimming to darkness with fuzzy city lights.  Nice home away from home, temporarily.

Feb- Slow, long february- maybe subconsciously trying to save up my energy for March.  Not quite in the school swing yet.. procrastination at its best. 

Mar- Well I doubt I'll forget this one.  Amazingly crammed full of wonderfulness.  Montessori workshop in Raleigh, kids and driving and more preparing afterwards, and green tea cocktails to cap, making last-minute electronics for Charleston; rehearsals in Greensboro, exhaustion setting in; a trip of comfortable beds; the Suspect piece that worked for the first time in performance; an extra page in Why Patterns; free last best day, beach walk and talk, eggs, drinks, new friends.  then TOUR, Pamplemousse! Red Room was the best- wonderful people, enthusiastic and friendly and talkative and so lovable; Philly with the opening band talking through our set; Vermont, a stay in that beautiful haven, Rama's mom's and Jake's house, the wonderful restaurant they took us to- spectacular macaroni and cheese and wine and ice cream...; the search for the black wax cabot; drive up to Montréal, Rama with his Valium, Pho, women shoppin, small tiff at the venue, tiny stage, great concert; and Yale, with changed door combinations, ended as the best show of the tour, smokin.  Recording with Paul a week later, a treat as always.  The remainder of the month was a blur of work- realization that thesis is due in one month..

Apr-great month- in my element, performing at my best, music that's more me than anything ever; could do this forever.  Furrer with Broomie- rehearsals great, concert awesome, like playing with an old old partner; lots of Block.flt(remix), that piece that embodies me more throroughly than anything I've played; fun times singing and vocal technique-ing with Marcello; Red Light concert, feel like a good musician.  General bonding with my thesis class, that was really nice.  I really liked them, and am sad that probably our paths won't cross again.  April passed in a busy blur, juggling thesis and play, feeling the end of 27 approaching with very welcome speed.

May- goodbye ITP! thesis...party...dancing...Jeremiah rocks...concert...Chicago trip with mama! Art institute... lots of walking, shopping, big colorful blocks, beautiful weather, late night meetings ending disappointingly but satisfyingly terminal... free is a mind state...trip to albuquerque- really wanted to stay another few days, or weeks, or maybe a little longer than that. 

June- fever?? delayed leaving.  Constructed the blocks with jessie- I really wish I'd paid more attention in school during this time, although there's no situation that would've changed what I learned.  I'm actually perfectly happy with how those 2 years went, but every once in awhile something comes up that makes me want some of the knowledge I deliberately ignored. SuperConcert! Dave's awesome new superpiece, Jessie's awesome blocks, Andrew's bliisfully acoustic super string duo, my not-so-super piece but performed spectacularly- Kiku's minute-long scratch bow! that was so spectacular.  I wish I had it in a bottle.  Sounds I've never heard.  But finally, too much electronics in that concert.  Too complicated, not enough time, too unstable- pulling it off is not good enough, although it felt great.  But a strong realization- that I've come to enjoy the challenge of making things work, maybe a little too much.  I work best under fire, but there needs to be a balance, to acheive good musical results and not just be amazed that it worked.   

July- what happened to july??

7-8-9!
July 8 2009

Final days at a place- vacation, retreat, work haven- are bittersweet- realizing what a unique and rare experience I've had, finding comforts a little too late- sunsets, spectacular smells of cut and crushed grass, dark roads leading to adventures into further levels of nowhere, remembering how to enjoy making music without deadlines or pressures rather than relying on them, FRISBEE!! the energy coming and going smoothly, satisfying catch and release; enjoying my spectacularly good fortune at spending time with the best people ever.

Maybe the best thing I've taken is that.... freedom from dependence on goals and deadlines.... alleged freedom....
also, a valuable lesson learned- talking one into doing something dooms both parties, eventually.

The top of the valley- a single plane disturbs the air so completely, beginning at one edge of the horizon and growing exponentially in waves of reverberation off the distant hills.  It reaches the zenith of the sky and splits in two, diving off towards the sunset and disappearing into silence, swallowed by a thousand crickets and the abrasive demands of baby woodpeckers.

Final night: the moon shone out from behind the patchy, dark clouds so brightly it extinguished all but the brightest stars; fireflies blinked on and off all around us to obliviate sense of depth; crickets deafened; shared silent moment of simplicity.

June 26

Things worth remembering lately, some not so recently:

A full rainbow, while driving to the Pample-concert, from I-80 East on June 18, and the number of stopped rainbow-watching cars.

A turtle on a two-day journey along my running path.

A spider eating a blinking firefly.

Fantastic new choreography of Michael Jackson's Human Nature.

One of the most spectacular thunderstorms of my life, thick sheets of rain transforming into quarter-sized hailstones, complete with razor-sharp shards of lightning, booming cracks of thunder, and tire-deep pools in parking lots. 

Carefully secretive (and, sadly, futile) parsing out of tequila.

A groundhog's butt.

Crack of dawn, thick fog blankets.

Baby frogs smaller than the nail on my pinky, hopping about and eating bugs; a baby turtle only slightly larger, scurrying down the road (at snail's pace).

Green moth with a five-inch wingspan glued onto my window; matching half-eaten wings across the yard.

Driving from Santa Fe with my mama; the single most exceptional sky I've ever experienced.

Late-night kissing on the corner.

Watching the sun rise from a car parked in the foothills.

Shooting stars and lightning storms at dusk, mysteriously significant.

||:salad+frisbee||

May 24

Some Thoughts On Vacation

I love to wander about freely, without schedules or plans.

I love to work, so so much.

Going home is important, to keep my roots intact.

Having a home is important, to not be tied down by my roots. 

My mama.

May 24

One of my greatest fears is watching my mom get older.  She acts and looks much younger, and I get impatient with her, forgetting. 

I always wanted to be able to hang out with her, because she's such a good friend- I've always thought of her more as a sister than a mother.  Since adulthood I've wanted to give her the experiences and adventures she always wanted and never had in her youth, but managed to give to me.  So I started taking her on these trips, and they've been wonderful, although I think my dream of recapturing what she missed is a little naïve.  But every once in a while, she'll get this gleefully impetuous expression on her face, and I'll catch a glimpse of what she was like before I was born.  It's wonderful and heart-breaking at the same time.  But then time has always been the real heart-breaker.

(I have to take a line to admit that my mama kicked my butt in her walking-around endurance- I was pooped and she was all ready to keep goin... :) )

May 6

I heard a great story today.

A little boy was telling his big friend about a room that one of his friend's family was adding onto their loft apartment in Tribeca.  It was a beautiful sort of alcove garden room surrounded by glass on the roof of the building, filled with beautiful flowers and a big orange tree.  The little boy was so excited about the thought of this paradise that after he finished describing it to his big friend, he said with all his might, "I would give anything to be able to sit up in that room, under the tree, with a big cookie! That would be the best thing ever." 

And it really would.

May 3

I'm not sure what happened to April... where did April go? I think, maybe, it forgot to come this year, and instead it just used up extra days in February and started May a little early.  But now it's May, and things feel really calm, and happy, cleared up and sunny after a long long hurricane.  And I think the hurricane actually changed me, a little bit, for the better.  It almost killed me, but it didn't, so as the old saying goes..

Now I've been pushing through this period of intense deadlines and long nights to achieve those deadlines, and the work has felt really great. But, I'm looking forward to a period of incubation for my projects, to allow them the time to mature and for the musical ideas to begin emerging.  I guess that part always gets a bit shortchanged in deadline situations, because the technology has to come first for the product to work at all.  But I also feel like my focus has changed for the better, and I'm able to concentrate anew and gather the energy from the people around me to make stuff, instead of struggling for a quiet moment inside my brain. 

Yay.  :)

Mar 27

Buckminster Fuller

Ok, I have no idea what this means, but I just came across the third completely random reference to Buckminster Fuller in the past month.  Having never come across his name in my life, I find this odd.

First, Rama's Pample-Blocks blurb; second, when I was investigating a (random) author a friend told me about; third, just now, researching carbon nanotubes (carbon nanotubes are sometimes called "buckytubes,"a cylindrical spoof off "buckyballs" which is what spherical carbon molecule aggregates are called because of their similarity to Buckminster's geodesic spheres.)

Mar 18

Magical House: Burlington, VT

A quiet, beautiful haven, three floors of sanctuary. A magical mirror in the bathroom making all things beautiful; the most comfortable bed ever, piled with down blankets, molding to my body; toast smell; spiral staircases going up and down; puppy with too much love to give; mama taking care of us all; prospect of breakfast; travel behind; comfortable sounds of appliances and contented, relaxed voices downstairs.

Mar 16

I murdered a mouse today. 

It's funny how great memories can turn sour at the drop of a hat, and then change back just as suddenly. 

The reality of memory is so questionable, I wonder sometimes if it exists at all as anything other than an implantation of thoughts upon things, people, places.

Mar 15

Car troubles diverted the remaining portion of Pamplemousse on the return trip from Baltimore onto Exit 12 off the NJ Turnpike, and left us with two hours to kill while the trouble was investigated.  Lo and behold, a stupendous Indian restaurant lies in the strip mall mostly consumed by Ceck Cashin (sic), Auto Parts, ShopRite, and Dollar Time.  After exhausting the nerf footballs, Grow Me toys, greeting cards, religious chocolate, and water squirters at the 99cent store, we slowly ambled along the sidewalk, passing twice by a nondescript Indian restaurant.  The second time, we entered to inquire about chai, and were greeted with an other-worldly smell of pure deliciousness.  The restaurant was completely empty of people, but filled with this incredible warm smell that was so disparate from the concrete drabness on the other side of the curtained window as to seem surreal. Intending only to take out coconut balls and chai, the owner (owner's son?) invited us to sit, and after spending a few minutes in the aroma-sphere we realized, quite suddenly, that it was impossible not to eat, in the same way one realizes it is impossible not to take the day off on the first beautiful day of the year.  What followed our decision- words cannot describe.  The food was phenomenal.  The older man had the regal air of a king, and both were incredibly kind, gentle, and stupendous in the kitchen.  Exit 12, bear right, U-turn, left into the second shopping center.  Go.

Mar 15

Plays and Players Theatre: Philly, PA

Philadelphia is a beautiful city, like all the gorgeous neighborhoods of New York without the impossible vastness, and with a distinct flavor and scent of its own.  The theatre is a four or five floor old building, steep creaky staircase leading up through three ancient and beautiful floors of theatre, up to the fourth floor venue where a large room and bar spreads out.  The group before us was a large-group improv- something I find to be a challenge for performer and audience member in any situation.  All the musicians were very skilled; some of them also listened.  You can tell a lot about a person from the way they improvise, which became even more apparent during our set, when many of them collected in the bar and talked through our performance.  The curtain did nothing to dampen the voices, unfortunately.  We played well though.

It's a shame really, because it's a beautiful city- I didn't dig the people that much though.  Not passing any judgement, since I only met a few, but I only met a few in Baltimore too, and they were solid people. 

Mar 14

The Red Room: Baltimore MD

This venue is great.  This city is great.  There is so much character in Baltimore, you don't have to search through all the fake and careerist (among artists) attitudes to find the real, like you do in lots of "up-and-coming" cities (like Philly).  The Red Room is in the back of Normal's, this great used (and new?) book and record shop, packed to the brim and stacked high.  The way a bookstore should be- narrow aisles, just large enough for a single person to sit and read for awhile, musty book smell, nooks and crannies and doorways leading to secret bookrooms, millions upon millions of words telling stories waiting to be read, again. 
Then the concert. 
A man in the front row kept exclaiming, quietly, to his friend- "did you hear that sound?" "wow, that was a cool sound!"  It was great.  The room was packed with people, standing contentedly through our slightly-too-long set, and sticking around after to chat about it, with the sincerest interest and appreciation. 

One strange thing- the trumpet player for the group before us didn't like the music he was playing, and affected an attitude of disdain which made the group and the audience uncomfortable.  Not sure what was happening there... he was a nice guy, but for some reason felt like what he was doing wasn't good enough.  We stayed up late talking with Sam, the venue guy and whose house we stayed at.  Good conversation, good night.  Spectacular dinner at the Trinidadian place across the street from the venue- family restaurance, each meal cooked individually.  Really delicious food accompanied by warmth and love for people and cooking.

Breakfast at the Paper Moon Diner- diner made for tourists (according to the prices) but great place anyway, filled with action figures.  Whoever said you eat badly on the road isn't looking in the right places.

Mar 6-8

Charleston SC

It was such a relief to leave the teaching music world and return to my home planet of playing music.  Drove down from Greenville with percussion and piano (passed out in the car, in usual fashion), crossed the spectacular bridge into Charleston, and ended up at Redux.  Good crowd, really good concert, from beginning to end.  Percussion solo and more percussion solo (yay!), then me, then duo, then Feldman.  Probably the closest I've ever cut it with a sound check- performance was the first time electronics worked on Suspect Flute.
Late night, early morning (the trio minus me left early), but I couldn't stay in bed anyway as the sun was streaming in with promises of warmth, the first instance since September.  Slightly delirious in my sleep deprivation I spent the morning in the park, slowly coming into consciousness, watching the sun move along the sky and warm the life below; headed out to the beach and walked far, enjoying the freedom of the day and the satisfaction of beauty, confident Spring; ate deliciousness and drank afternoon beer; spent the evening in good company and sadly arrived at the airport on Sunday for a flight back to reality and responsibility.

This is the second time that arrival to Charleston has meant absolute bliss.

Mar 2-5

Montessori Workshop in Electroacoustic Music (Raleigh, NC)

The students- Giselle, Stephanie, Nathan, Avery, Chase, Jake
What: A four-day turned three-day (snow day) intensive workshop in electroacoustic music, taught to six extremely bright and engaged seventh graders at the Montessori School of Raleigh.

Feb 26

Something really wonderful has happened!

For years, I've tried to convince composer and performer friends to write music for me and my ensemble, and especially to write music with electronics.  And now, people are writing electroacoustic music for me, even if they don't know how to use electronics- instead of shying away, they are coming to me for help, or for references of people to help them! It's so exciting to be part of this transformation.  I'm in awe of the people I work with, constantly, and am always stunned to find myself in the impossibly fortunate position of being surrounded by such wonderful, talented, and brilliant people. 

And yet, the music without electronics that people continue to write for me never ceases to amaze me, unearthing sounds from acoustic instruments nobody thinks to hear or listen to; and combinations I would never conceive of, pushing my ears just a little further.  And the fact that we do this at all, that we have to do this, is a constant wonder, in the happiest sense of the word.

Added note, Feb 27: I just was made aware of The Octopus, another SuperFlute! For me, there's nothing better than finding fellows in the stuff I do and make.  It's like having a whole community of friends you may or may not ever meet but knowing they exist is solace in itself.

Jan 26

I've always been a sincere believer in the non-formula- that is to say, that no formula exists for the way we live our lives, that no series of actions will result in a determined result.  But I guess some part of me always has sort of subscribed to that notion that I outwardly reject, however subliminally, because this last month has pulled that rug completely from under my feet.  I am now totally unsure of the future, and it is liberating and frightening in the same breath.  It's like losing any capability of memory, in reverse- I've lost the ability to foresee, although I suppose that is really just a self-imposed means of feeling safe anyway. 

It's quite a place to be. 

Dec 28

The most beautiful day ever, sunrise to sunset.  One of those days where the light falls on everything to cast its shadow so perfectly that the world seems impossible except as an imagination. Moments of beauty continually surpassed the last, with such consistency and increasing intensity that I really began to doubt its reality.  I guess living in New York has made me forget that these things really do exist, somewhere.
Ironically (because I question their reality), it's days like these that make me believe that maybe everything really will become the way my idealistic little brain wishes and hopes. I'd settle for a fresh start in 09, and some integrity, maybe, with my resolutions.

(I have to add a sidenote here, almost a month later- memory of the best day ever, last March, on the first day of spring- a drive on tour from Louisville KY to Charleston SC, starting in the morning with the moon setting, the car door frozen shut, and all color still sleeping.  As we drove across Tennessee, we watched the sun rise and bring Spring to life- flowers stretch awake on the side of the road, the sky passed through the pastel spectrum, all in good time, perfect avocados were consumed off the stone, the temperature rose, and we ended on the beach to watch the sunset in Charleston, barefoot and blissfully warm.)

Dec 15

SuperFlute!!

Dec 11

Everyone has their collection of cabbie stories, and here's my latest.  Ronald Wilson, cabbie since 1981, oldest brother of six girls (and one older adopted sister who came in later), changing diapers and making formulas since he was five, learned to cook when he was seven.  30 nieces and nephews. Told stories about growing up, was very cautious about taking the FDR because of the heavy flooding and bad drivers, stories about people who live in single-room apartments with two bathrooms and eighteen windows- that kind of thing, all bundled up in humor. 

The priceless moment came with this nugget of wisdom: "When you're cookin, and you're not sure, put it on low, and leave it alone."

You really can't get more right than that.

Dec 5
On Structure with Jessie and Marina at Safe-T-Gallery

It's exceptional to find yourself in a musical situation where all performers are on the same wavelength at precisely the moment when the audience is at its most vulnerable, that is to say receptive, state.  This state normally requires a bit of effort, on the part of musicians and auditors, to reach a common space and then explore it.  But in certain moments of magic, everything links up, and nothing can distract the focus.  All present are involved in the creation process, and the product is effortless and exquisite.

Dec 4

I've had the unexpected pleasure of rehearsal in incredibly beautiful spaces lately. 

Doris Duke dance studio at the Joyce Soho is an amazing, cavernous, empty space with hardwood floors with floor-to-ceiling windows on both ends, four flights up and receded from the street.  I was stunned, having mostly forgotten that places like this even potentially exist.  One side looks into someone's apartment, a dream NYC pad complete with lofted work area and huge windows, and lots of shoes.  Me being be, my brain immediately starts thinking "well, who wants to live in Soho anyway, it's so... detached from reality.  I like being where the real people are. I don't want that apartment. I bet they wish they had MY apartment."
Today I had the good fortune of rehearsing at the parlor in the Pennington, attached to the Meeting House on 15th street. It was this beautiful, warm room, stuffy in that way only old rooms that have been thoroughly lived in can be, complete with grand piano, huge portraits, thick curtains, and a harp. The kind of room that inspires me to play Baroque music, if only I wasn't terrible at playing Baroque music.  Instead, we played our instruments, wood metal steel and hair.  And ping-pong balls.

I have to say, though, that neither of these spaces, or any others, make me as comfortable or as happy as my home space, the Safe-T-Gallery, that haven for Pamplemousse and so many others over the past eight years.

Nov 25

Loud Objects + 14!
This was a concert I participated in at Issue Project Room, where 14 musicians (2 women, 12 men) performed with Loud Objects, a live circuit-building duo (Kunal Gupta and Tristan Perich) (usually trio, with Katie Shima). Now, 14 input signals fed into a single circuit board is a recipe for many many disasters, but an equal number of exciting potential creations. The concert began with nearly everyone playing something on their respective instruments, and none of the amplified signals working, so all that was heard was quiet strumming of unamplified electric guitars, tapping on keyboards, clicking of contact mics, and bated breath. As the soldering commenced, slowly a sound palette emerged, with signals cutting in and out in a meshed chaotic-yet-concise canvas of noise. It was beautiful, actually, the blend of each performer's confusion mixed with their perception of the sporadic sounds coming from their playmates and themselves. And it seemed that this confusion was the key element holding it all together in a precarious balance between collapse and the most fragile composition. Since we were each beneath and slightly skewed from our own speaker, there was a certain degree of detachment from the amplified sound, which really helped keep the collapse/composition balance in check for some time.  I was sad that after about fifteen minutes, many of the performers got impatient and threw caution to the wind in favor of visually-attention-grabbing strategies of performance that, unfortunately, produced very little in the way of interesting sonic group improvisations. However, I know many people felt this was the more successful part of the concert, so I guess there's some difference of opinion.
I can't help but think the result would have been extraordinarily different with a more evenly balanced gender mix.
In any case, it was a great experiment, and although I learned afterwards that what Loud Objects had originally intended wasn't attained due to technical difficulties, I really thought we all had something going there for a while.

Nov 23

It is so satisfying to me that no matter how far technology advances, pictures of the sun setting will always fall short of the real thing.

A recurring adventure I've been having: watching the sun set from beginning to end.  Not much more to say about that.  It is spectacular.

Nov 18

I am just so happy that Obama is president-elect! I had to share it, with the virtual abyss that is my website.

This morning I woke up to a clip of him on NPR talking to his wife, saying how he missed being able to take walks with her.  Although she wouldn't have gone with him today anyway, it was too cold.  She readily agreed. 

I'm not sure why that made me so happy.  It's sad, kinda, he's not even president yet and already any sense of normalcy in his life is totally lost.  Maybe it's the fact that simplicity exists for him, or that he appreciates the things we all do.. I don't know, maybe it was just because it was sweet.  Whatever the reason, I want to re-celebrate his election and the overall progression of the nation, the changes we are all living that will eventually lead to a brighter era, even if it means darker economic times for a while.

Random Thoughts

Something that's been at the forefront of my mind lately, because it seems to be the only viable option for me, is the construction and development of an artist's colony. Whenever I have an idea and I want to try it on for size, or actualize it, I talk about it with as many people as possible, treating it as if it were reality regardless of its current imaginary state. The more people I talk to about this colony thing, the more I'm discovering that, barring a few notable exceptions, this communal and non-capitalist lifestly is one that many people would embrace, given the option. People aren't simply being supportive of the idea, they give feedback and think about people to help out, offer assistance, and say all sorts of crazy things that could potentially lead them into a position of responsibility, something most people avoid like the plague. And it isn't only the people I'd expect if from- it's people with families, jobs, lives that they don't want to give up, but are willing to entertain the idea of changing them for the better.  Maybe it's a mark of the economic depression we're in, or maybe the cycle is slowly reaching bottom in preparation for its upward sweep at last!

Nov 6

Robert Dick: 50 years of Fluting

Weill Recital Hall is possibly one of the stuffiest rooms on the face of the planet, right up there with the 11th-grade precalculus classroom and the GRE test facility. Tonight, fortunately, it received a brief relief from its stuffiness with a solo flute concert by Robert Dick. I generally stay away from the fluteworld- being in a room full of people who have spent most of their lives surrounded by high frequencies is, to say the least, not a very relaxing experience.
Two little old ladies were sitting a few rows in front of me, all decked out in silks and pearls.  The woman in purple was breathing heavily, puffing her cheeks in and out, like a frustrated pufferfish with a pulled cheek muscle. She was trying to teach her companion how to circular breathe, and doing a pretty good job of it herself! I laughed out loud! That was a great moment.
The whole concert was pretty spectacular- Robert Dick is an absolute master of his instrument, and that's a spectacular thing to see. Flute Olympics. But more than that, I remembered the single most important thing I learned from him- compromise is for people who are fine with it. He's the most uncompromising person I've ever met, and I will take that lesson with me in every situation I find myself in. He does exactly as he pleases, when where and how, and never apologizes for it. At 59, that's quite a feat. Hell, at 27 that's quite a feat. (Yep, I'm proud of myself.)   I think of myself as his successor (and I'm sure I'm totally alone in that (ha)), and that is a wonderful place to be.

Nov 5

Election Night- Obama wins!

I wish everyone could have experienced the mood in Washington Heights after Obama was announced as the new president- the excitemet was akin to the turn of the millenium. Hundreds of people flooded the streets at 11pm on a Tuesday night, screaming, running, laughing, hugging strangers, (asking us to show our tits) (well some things don't change), dancing and cartwheeling, throwing rolls of toilet paper over traffic lights (which subsequently caught fire)- the mood was infectious, and we joined in with our own screams and playing/banging on instruments, sprinting around the block. Cops rolled by with lights flashing, beeping victory horns in chorus with dump trucks and livery cabs; firecrackers exploded and consumed the streets in a thick haze of smoke lit up by sparks from (aforementioned) traffic lights; bangs from telephone booths being struck by happy partiers rang through the air, echoed by victory shouts from apartment windows four flights ups; and we all eventually collapse, exhausted from this election season as though we'd ran the marathon from the start.

October 30 2008

James Turrell Meeting exhibit at PS1

possibly the most appropriate adventure for anyone living in NYC for any substantial length of time.  There's nothing quite like sitting under an open sky watching the clouds go by and the light gradually changing as the sun sets... especially when you know the minute you leave you'll be back in the thick of it and won't see the sky again, at least not unframed by city, and certainly not in such a state. The eyes lose track of perspective, and forget to watch for a while, then jerk back into time with blank moments in memory, unable to keep pace with the clouds and steadiness of gaze.  And then there's the moment when time stops affecting your perception, loses meaning, and listening to people coming in and out, in varying states of discomfort, one realizes that time is just a manufactured substance by humans to make ourselves feel important, or substantial somehow. After that moment happens, and it always does, I really start to appreciate stillness and silence.  Eventually night falls fully, and there's nothing left but a lit room in a dark night, and it's time to go.

Note on Adventures:

It's interesting to think about what qualifies exactly as an adventure.  I feel like my life- at least since I've stopped being an angst-ridden early 20-something-year-old- has been a series of little adventures coupled together by the larger flow, and interspersed with drama, sillies, and ridiculousness, both good and bad. Maybe that's the way of the universe, now or always, constant measures of chaos kept in occasional check by cosmic order.  And the only way to really experience it all is to let the bad times take you over completely, drowning you in the abyss, reassuring you in each moment that there are more to come; and let the good times lift you up to places inconceivable at any given moment, infusing you with a lightness possible only through laughter and happiness and true acceptance of life. 
Without getting too personal, I'm putting some moments that stick with me on this page, starting October 30 2008.