Category: not

Creating something every day for 365 days: only not today

Labyrinth, 9/11/08

Posted on by Dale

Yesterday, at 6:40 a.m., the paving stones for the labyrinth were delivered. That’s right, just as I stepped out of the shower, our doorbell rang. It seems that the forklift was not going to fit through the carport. Sheesh. We had the guy put it down on the side of the carport, in our neighbor’s yard.

Ginny had been fretting in a negative way since I had told her I’d ordered the stones, and now she fretted about it being in Sue’s yard. Since she enjoys fretting, I helped her by refusing to fill her in with any details about my plans, since each time I tried I was greeted with more negative fretting.

But my plan was to move the stones down to the back yard anyway, no matter where they had been delivered. True, if they’d been put down in the driveway, I actually wouldn’t have had to move them until I was installing them, but no matter.

So when I got home from school, I stripped down for action and got to work. An army of one, I scooped them up six at a time and walked them down the driveway. I had set up the iPhone/speaker combo, so Pandora was giving me the beat with my Tosca channel, and it was one of those fun times when you just sweat and do the work.

Here’s the new pile, down by the house. I figured it would be out of the way of anything we were doing back there until the stones were all installed.

That’s 672 stones, by the way, at 4.4 pounds apiece, which works out to about 3,000 pounds. So yes, I moved a ton and a half of paving stones yesterday afternoon. And yet I am somehow not buff this morning. Maybe it takes a day or two to show up.

My dilemma is now increased multifold: pave the path, or pave the outline? It would be unconscionable for me to pave the path, just in terms of cost. I have no right to spend that kind of money on this project, even spread out over a year or two. But it would be an amazing thing to have done, and to have. If I pave the outline, then I could probably have the whole thing done by the Lichtenbergian annual meeting in December. But then as a matter of aesthetics, what do I do about the path? It’s all scrubby grass and weeds, and I could easily spend half the total cost of paving the path on treating the soil and growing grass.

The other aspect of it, as I laid out a circle of stones in the center last night by candlelight, is just how attractive a path paved by me would be. We’re not talking closely fitted cobblestones here.

So here’s what I’m thinking. I’m going to lay out the center, then lay out a couple of the tight turns, just to see if it would be attractive at all. If not, then I’m going to go with the outline instead.

Discuss.

59 days: on the road

Posted on by Dale

We’re headed up to Guilford for the weekend, and that means I won’t get any work done on the symphony while we’re gone. I am carrying the score for III. Allegro gracioso with me so I can make notes as I listen to it on my iPod, but I doubt I’ll get anything real accomplished.

Listen to Prairie Home Companion tomorrow night and let me know if I won the sonnet contest.

68 days: experiencing a slight delay

Posted on by Dale

I doubt I will get much done on III. Allegro gracioso tonight, since the gastrointestinal distress which afflicted me on Saturday morning is now revealed not to have been connected to any quantity of tequila at all, but merely the precursor to a kidney stone, which settled in quite nicely during the course of today.

Even if we get back from seeking medical attention in time for me to work, I’m determined that I will be too medicated to do so.

update: Four and a half hours later, we got back home. IV fluids, CT scan, and of course absolutely no pain that might indicate I was anything but a drug-seeking hypochondriac. Fortunately, I guess that’s the word I’m looking for, the scans did reveal two stones, one on each side, just resting. I am armed with meds.

This is extremely irritating. First, of course, there’s the entire evening spent in the ER, and then there’s the possibility of the pain arriving just when I want to work. Hey, maybe it’s another chance to submit to Dionysus: enough Vicodin and I can whack out the rest of IV. Lento without batting an eye.

Feh.

94 days: Impossible people

Posted on by Dale

From today’s Writer’s Almanac email:

One day in January of 1965, the complete first chapter of One Hundred Years of Solitude came to him suddenly while he was driving his car from Mexico City to Acapulco. He came home that night and told his wife not to bother him and locked himself in a room for eight to 10 hours a day for the next 18 months and wrote the novel. The original manuscript was 1,200 pages long, and García Márquez pawned their heater and his wife’s hair dryer to pay for the postage to send the novel out to publishers.

Damn. Just damn.

97 days

Posted on by Dale

It being a Monday, I didn’t get any work done on the piece, other than listening to it in the car going here and there.

The other reason I got not a lot done is that lichtenbergian.org finally came through: whatever Noah’s been tied up with finally let him loose enough to give me access to the domain. Within minutes hours I had our blog up and running, including the beginnings of a huge collection of Georg Christoph’s aphorisms.

So, Lichtenbergians, pile in.

Sorry for the silence

Posted on by Dale

I know I haven’t posted anything this week, our dog Winnie has been at the vet all week, and no one’s sure even now what’s wrong with her or whether she’s going to be OK or not. I’ve had to devote my attention to other things (even as I type this, there is a cat who normally leaves me alone prowling about my table and demanding that I hold her.) Lots of Niggle/George to deal with.

So the symphony has been stalled all week. I listened to the Largo for the first time in a week yesterday, and actually I liked what I heard. It’s pretty clear that I have to repeat the grand theme grander, but after that, I’m pretty clueless about what should happen next. I’ve been playing with the agitato theme in the major, but that doesn’t seem to go anywhere. Lack of skill on my part, I know.

There’s another blog post I started working on yesterday, but it’s going to take me a while to finish it.

So, alas, still nothing to read here. Move along.

update, midmorning: The agitato theme has begun to go somewhere. All hell has broken loose. I hope it lasts.

Lichtenbergian victim #1

Posted on by Dale

Lichtenbergianism claims its first victim: the setting of the German text of “Song of Solomon” for the Festival European Sacred Music Schwäbisch Gmünd. It was to be postmarked tomorrow, and I haven’t even looked at it. Ah well. Check!

Despite the headway I’ve been making on the Moonlight songs, I had a panic attack tonight coming home from the Masterworks small ensemble practice. I am supposed to be starting the symphony, but I’m going to be behind already, and that scares me to death.

Part of it is of course that it’s the tail end of the holidays, and now it’s time to take all that stuff down. As a matter of fact, even as I type this, Ginny’s downstairs asking for help bringing in all the storage tubs she’s bought. I’ll be right back. Maybe.

All right, so far I’ve lived to tell the tale. But you see the problem. If you haven’t read Leaf by Niggle, by J.R.R. Tolkien, I highly recommend it. In it, a second-rate artist (Niggle) can’t get his work done because of all the duties his society calls upon him to do, plus all his neighbors and acquaintances call on him for favors. Because of all the distractions, even though he knows he ought to be preparing himself for his journey, he never quite gets his painting done. Even though there’s a Faëry ending for Niggle and his neighbor Parish, the overall outlook for Art and Artists is very bleak, even to the point of nihilism.

Ironically, today is Tolkien’s birthday.

I’ve written another verse and a half for “Dream Land,” which makes it way too long, but people can use it if they want. I’ll try to finish that up by the weekend.

I’ve also started “Fedallini’s Catalog,” and I think I have the melody down. I might extend it to a full 16 bars, but I’ll see. Lyrics are sketched and sketchy, so I can try to nail that down in the next few days. I still have to set the intro, but that’s just a matter of making up a wild cadenza for the piano. Fedallini doesn’t sing this song, just speaks it. I may have Thurgood chime in at the end of each verse. Pinke, of course, says nothing. If I’m very clever, I may have him mime some obvious and rude rhyme.

And the Act I finale, “Tear Down That Wall” has begun forming itself in my head. I can at least get that blocked out this weekend.

The problem is, the symphony has also begun forming itself in my head.

Avoiding work: rare books

Posted on by Dale

I’m avoiding working on the music this afternoon by cooking. And while I’m waiting for my Sugar-Crusted Breton Butter Cake to rise, I’m continuing to avoid work by reading the New York Times Book Review.

The first two pages are an ad for Bauman Rare Books, so I thought I’d buy a couple with my lottery winnings.

Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, first edition, first issue, in original cloth-gilt. What’s not to like? As Hemingway said, “All modern literature comes from one book by Mark Twain. It’s the best book we’ve had.” And he’s right. A wonder of story-telling and sly satire often missed by some of our more racially sensitive friends. $17,500.

Beatrix Potter, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, first edition, “a stunning copy.” If you haven’t looked at an original Potter recently, go pick one up. The writing is charming and her illustrations are inimitable. If you’ve only read it with some other person’s sad little drawings, you need to seek out the real thing. $17,000.

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, first edition, in the original dust jacket. Wow. I’ve love to have this one. $16,000.

Geoffrey Chaucer, The Workes of Geoffrey Chaucer, one of fewer than nine known copies of a 1551 edition, illustrated with woodcuts, early 19th century calf binding. Maybe if I owned this I might finally read the whole thing. Yes, I know, but my early lit professor had us read Troilus and Criseyde instead. $55,000.

Charles Dickens, The Christmas Books, first editions of all five. You know why. $28,500.

Ludwig van Beethoven, Cinquieme Sinfonie, first edition of the Fifth. That would be so cool. Then I could pay musicians to play so I could conduct from it. $13,500.

Hm. Maybe Harold Arlen/Johnny Mercer, Come Rain or Come Shine, first edition, inscribed by Mercer to Judy Garland. It’s camp, but it’s cheap at $6800.

Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, first American edition, $16,000.

Let’s see, that comes to $170,300 all told. Not bad for a couple of minutes shopping. Of course, I know I’d have to read them with white cotton gloves on, and I’d probably have to buy a whole new house with a climate-controlled library, but they’re all nice additions to my collection, I think.

Don’t worry, though, I’ve left plenty for you guys: Einstein‘s The World as I See It, $18.500. E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web, original dust jacket, $2400. F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise, first edition, special tipped-in “Author’s Apology,” $16,000. William Bligh, Narrative of the Mutiny, first edition, $22,000. A 1610 Geneva Bible, folio volume in calf binding with brass fittings, $16,500. Robert Frost, Complete Poems, signed, $3600. Marc Chagall, Dessins pour la Bible, first edition, $9800. James Joyce, Ulysses, first edition, one of only 750 copies printed on handmade paper, uncut and unrestored copy in original wrappers, $65,000.

I knew that would get your attention, Marc and Jeff. Don’t start a bidding war. So unseemly.

Here’s their website. Anything else you see that you like?