more stuff

I've got all the work done on the Volvo and I'm tired.
Still haven't heard from any violinists yet.
Be nice to know a string quartet too.
I gotta spend my money on something. Why not vanity?

Here's another composer who blogs. Go say hi if you want.

Alex Shapiro

This is a test

Soho the dog has posted a questionnaire about musical taste, opinion and such
There are 10 questions plus some extra credit stuff
I, being a purely intellectual being, have no opinions or any taste to
speak of. Therefore I don't participate in such things. Even my own
music is of intellectual interest only. I could in no way tell you what it "means" or what you're supposed to feel about it. Nobody's buying it is all I know.
Also, I am too lazy.

However,
the Omniscient (except for opera) Mussel did provide the following
answer to #7 which ought to resonate with all the unsung (or un-performed) composers of the world.
It awarded myself with a satisfying snort of derision; John Williams? pfui!

- What’s the best use of a classical warhorse in a Hollywood movie?

Everything John Williams ever wrote is just a rearrangement of Mars from The Planets or the finale of Tchaik 6.
Oh no! It’s the Apocalypse.
Again.
Yawn.

Actually, my answer, if I were not too proud to participate in this sort of thing, would be, (who was it) Kubric's? use of the ride of the Valkyries in "Apocalypse now".
It's not so much the music as it is the comparison between "fearless women
warriors on noble steeds collecting the fallen heroes and bringing them
to their reward" and "lunatic surfer dudes riding flapping helicopters
to drop flaming gasoline on hapless villagers".

It's the sense of humor involved.

Wind Sprint

I am in the process of calibrating my bike's "computer". Using the Volvo's odometer, I measured the trip from here to the Renton Fred Meyer and back. The Volvo says 8.75 miles.
I set the bike to a wheel diameter reading closer to true and made the trip.
My legs must be getting something from
all of this because they seemed to have a mind of their own. I kept
asking if they would like to coast a bit but they just kept pumping. I
guess that's a good sign. I did manage to run out of breath on the
little hill through Dead Horse canyon. (Canyon? Surely it's not big
enough to be called a canyon) That was at the 7.something mile point. I think there was only one stop, maybe two.

The bike says 8.2 miles.
12.8 avg. 28.8 max almost flat run.
Still
needs further calibration. The Volvo has been compared to lots of
speedometer checks out on the highways and a few "your speed" radar
signs. I'll accept it as accurate.

Fidelio is crippled right at the moment due to a worn cotter pin.
The pin holds the pedal levers to the main driveshaft.
I was unable to find a proper size one at the bike shop in the U-district.
I might have to make one.

Still haven't
got any violinists lined up. Pros are a little leery of modern
composers because most of the stuff we write is incomprehensible and
impossible to play. Well, really, My computer can play 48 bars of 32nds at the lowest register of a tuba, why can't you?
Anyway the two string quartet pieces are virtually done.
String players don't have the breath problems that wind players do.
Listen to P.D.Q.'s schleptet for illumination of this phenomenon.

The piano, clarinet, and bass thingie is in the confusing stage where it is full of nice noises but refuses to gel into some kind of unity of purpose.

Life's like that, ain't it?

I've got to go now, the Volvo is apart getting it's 300,000 service.
I have to put it back together before I can look for a new cotter pin.
It's going to need a new radiator.

And, in the greater sense, don't we all?

Just ran a spell check. there is a "proper" spelling for "ain't" which I was brought up to believe was "not a word"

Mutatis Mutandis

Old boats

Heiliger scheiss! Das ist eine gross boot!
Previous viewings of Wagner's "Fliegende Hollender" have left me somewhat cold.
Eh! I said to myself, nice music, but the story, like, sucks.
Last nights performance by Sir Speight Jenkins (I'm awarding him Lane Savant title of "being better than the sad and deteriorating Gerry Schwartz")of aforementioned, was about 6 degrees short of 100% spectacular.
I stayed awake for the whole thing.
One factor was the staging and costuming. A modern (for the 50's anyway)
fishing boat with guys in motley. T-shirts, slickers, baseball caps,
hard hats, etc. I can relate.
The boat originally appeared on stage in earlier performances with the running lights on the wrong sides. In Seattle, it got noticed and corrected.
That would happen in Boston too, I imagine.
Unless they do it the other way 'round on that end of the country.
The other boat, Mr Fliegende's, was appropriately spooky.

One other thing I noticed was that the libretto talked a lot about sails even though the fishing boat was obviously diesel powered.
The story is still suspicious, of course, but acted properly, as it was not before,(the supertitles help) what is accentuated is the emotional and psychological content.
The ensemble, (set, costumes, music and the singing) make the suspension of disbelief easy, almost inevitable.
I am not worthy to comment on Jane Eaglen's Senta. I am always suspicious of superlatives and I can't think of anything else to use.
Same goes for Greer Grimsley's Hollender.
Two supporting roles stood out. The somnolent steersman by the enthusiastic
Jason Collins, and Eric by Jay Hunter Morris. O.K. they didn't
stick out but they were noticeable and, oh...what's
the word? Supportive.
But Whattowhyknow?
Wagner seems to like the psychological dynamic of women dying to save their men.
But as Bugs Bunny once said "It's Opera, doc, wattaya expect? A happy ending?
But it is supposed to be a happy ending.
I don't know. Two confused and depressed nut-cases find "release" in death?
I think we have medications for that now.
Could be Sid Vicious and his girlfriend.
Alice obviously suffered some kind of brain damage after falling down the rabbit hole.
Dorothy's wild stories about tin men, lions and scarecrows indicate to me some
sort of brain trauma that ought to be looked into.
I worry about people.
My question is; what does it mean to the living and sane?
Why, in other words, do these mythological scenarios exist in the first place?
Huh?
I'm sure that the majority of the audience have a reasonably firm grip on reality (O.K. "reality")
They seem to have more money than I do. They dress better. That's the definition of sanity, isn't it?
My wife did say I looked almost sharp last night. (I think I told you about the new shoes and I also bought a new shirt)
Anyway, the theme of my flute concerto is this sort of retreat in to the world
of the mind. Naive and vulnerable flute suffers the torments of her
reality and retreats into a self constructed dream like internal state.
The piece ends with with the success of achieving that state.
And the tragedy implied thereby.
Dreams nourish but it is sad to have to try to live on them.


Managed to meet and greet five people I knew, that's always nice.

You say anthracite, I say bituminous

O.K. I did the bike ride. The loop up the Green, through Black Diamond and down the Cedar.
I bought a "computer" for Fidelio.
A computer is like a wristwatch with a little radio in it that picks up signals from a magnet on a wheel spoke and measures revolutions and calculates distance and speed.
Here's what it calculated for me. 56 miles in 5 hours: 30 minutes: 34 seconds.
Avarege speed 10.1.
Highest speed 34 mph
I'm sixty five years old! Sixty five!! I can kick!, stretch!, and kick! and pedal!
Take that, whoever I might be competing with in that particular arena.
Anyway the trip to the G.R. trail is where I got the high speed. It's a steep downhill run in traffic with no bike lane. From the trail to Auburn was where I managed a 11.4 mph average.
Two hours from Rainier Beach to Division and Main in Auburn.
Out of Auburn to Black Diamond was a long slight upgrade where I didn't average hardly nothin' 'cause I walked a lot. A 20 minute stop in B.D. for food and "hydration"screwed up the avg spd even more.
But, the nice thing about following river trails is that when it's time to head back, it's all downhill. Sorta.
Had to stay on the highway for a while 'till I found the Cedar River trail, and that was fun. several long down hill bits at speeds up to 28mph along side large road work trucks zipping by at 50 or so while the bike lane varied from six feet to six inches.
Lots'a road construction goin' on
Back on the trail again, I coulda' kept up a better average but I wuz tired. Still managed to pedal home.

Still can't imagine two trips like that in one day. Although , I was in better condition at the end of this run than I was after last years Lake Washington circuit.
But not much.
Possibly because I had breakfast this time (6 little sausages and two slices french toast)
Today, I get to take care of the dirty dishes strewn about the already disheveled kitchen, then work some more on the cabinets, trying to reduce aforementioned dishevelment.

Soon......another Lake Washington trip. I'm getting to like this stuff.

Rinucio is a hottie

I just got back from visiting Omniscient Mussel. If you've got the computing power, (I need the library's )go there and watch the Youtube clip. "Rinucio is a hottie with a smokin' body"

Omniscient Mussel

Feel free to yawn

It has turned muggy, overcast, and damp. I realise that many of you believe the stereotype of Seattle weather, but it has been nice and sunny for a few weeks.
I still plan to take the bike trip. It will have to be a day that I wake up in time.
Dreary weather promotes sleepy. Yawn!
When one blogs every day, which I don't, one runs the risk of boring one's audience,
It is your prerogative, of course, to read or not read.
I would prefer to provide exciting glimpses into a fabulously busy and meaningful life. If I ever find one, I will be sure to let you know. The truth is that I am a bit bored myself.
Sometimes boredom masks excitement. You yawn to cover feeling like leaving a party.
It is somewhat like laughter, semi uncontrollable and not always pertinate to the situation.
So what would be my excitement in that theory? I'm beginning to feel that my music is getting good. I'm contacting musicians to have it performed. The Composers Salon is moving to a different venue (one from which I have yet to be 86'd)
Where might all this lead?
But time drags on so slowly. It's a month and a half before the next Salon. three and a half before the one after that.
I havn't heard back from two of the violinists I've written to. Tension mounts. YAWWWWN!
'scuse me, lemmesee, where was I?
Boredom,
I have been visiting other sites and leaving stupid little jokoid comments
I beg your pardon, other sites. That is I would beg your pardon if I were not too proud to beg.
You see? That's the sort of thing I consider to be humerous. But don't worry, I'm not dangerous.

I am about to spend a few hours editing the score for the violin duet, then work on fitting the kitchen cabinetry.

Hope your lottery numbers work for ya!

Wedding day

Today we go to Hope Island Inn at La Conner for the wedding of Garann Means, my Brother in law, Jeremy's, daughter. This will happen at 4 O'clock, so I have time to do this.
Soooo.....The scooter runs fine again. Or, at least, it did yesterday. Who cares about today?
Speaking of dreams; this mornings (Is there a full moon or something?) was about a a museum display of musical instruments. When the show was about to close, some musicians I know came in and started destroying the display. Apparently, this was a part of the show.
I did not participate in the distruction.
I have no idea why.
Oh yeah, yesterday, after I had cleaned the little farting tin can's carburetor and drained it's oil and changed it's filter and installed the suspect part, I found that I did not have the proper grade of oil for the finicky little bugger
I decided to bike to B&B auto parts for the stuff.
The trip out was fine (it's only five miles our so)(and flat). But, on the way back I decided to take the road up the hill through Skyway. It is a long hill. Maybe not for Lance Armstrong but definately for me.
Whoof!....Makes me wonder about this proposed 60 mile loop through Black Diamond.

Check the papers on monday;

Bicyclist Explodes

A Seattle bicyclist exploded Saturday (or maybe Sunday) on the interurban trail just a little north of Auburn.
His wife claims that "he never had a sick day in his life" (but what does she know?)

"He blowed up real good", accordion to witnesses.

He will be mist.

Wild fantasies of future adventures

I suppose I should be glad that I was not 'morphed into a giant vermin, but this morning I did awake from troubling dreams.
I don't even know what they were about, just vague fear and paranoia the kind of stuff that does 'anoia (Hah)
I have nothing to say about anything today.
My search for a couple of violinists continues, I have three leads, thanks to Katy and Cornish school of the arts.
Ummm....
Oh yeah, today I must remove the scooter's little carburetor and look for stickiness in it's fuel co-ordinating mechanisms.
Also level up the floor where the new cabinets will meet their final rest.
"Final rest", could that have anything to do with the troubling dreams?
Tomorrow we go north to a wedding on a niece-in-law.
Saturday
or Sunday, I plan to ride the 60 mile loop from home to Black Diamond
on the green river trail then hook up with the Cedar river trail back
home again.
The 60 mile figure might not be accurate, I measured the twisty, squirmy line on the map. Measuring it with the car's odometer might prove it's less of of
trip, but I'm sure it's 50 so if I can combine that loop with a trip
around the lake, It will be 100 mi and halfway to Portland.
Let me see....this weekend the old Volvo will accomplish 300,000 miles.
I will reward it with a new timing belt (not the sandwich) radiator hoses, fan belts, power steering hoses and anything else soft and deteriortable.
It has been to the moon and is on it's way back.
Remind me to get the Alfa, the FIAT, the, Bristol, and the Amphibian on the market and sold before they rot in the driveway.

Wednesday

Once again Wednesday started on Tuesday.
Last night, Meredith called me from work to say that the scooter wouldn't start.
I drove out and we determined that a fuel leak had filled the crankcase
and the combustion chamber locking the poor little insect in an
hydrostatic (oliostatic, to be precise, I suppose) embrace.
Pulling the dipstick plug caused a fountain of gasoline diluted oil to spout
onto the parking lot, but soon the liquid drained from it's head and
the motor was free and salvageable again.
We phoned a brother in law, borrowed his pickup and carried it home.
In this wise did it influence today;
I hadda go to the Vespa dealer to ask questions and buy suspected parts, therefore I was not able to take the usual bus trip downtown. I had to drive.
Which meant no Cafe Ladro, no walk up the hill.
Instead, I drove to Queen Anne hill to my favorite Starbucks, where my favorite barista greeted me. She's a real sweetheart. I should have asked her name.
Anyway, she's on my short list of girls to fall in love with.
You know, tall drip and a peanut butter cookie.
With me being the tall drip.
Then to class.
David now wants me to sign a contract promising to print and bind my scores for posterity.
Yeah, yeah, yeah..
Instead of going straight home, I decided to drive a bit more northward to the
arboretum and odometer my way along the route of my recent bike ride.
Turns out it was not as long a ride as I had measured on the map.
My overall speed for that day was a mere 8.7 mph.

I did stop several times.

Phew!

Just got back from a 3 hour bike ride. Went to UW and back.
Actually, I stopped at MOHAI (Museum of History and Industry) and looked through the exhibits. for about a half hour, so I'll call it a 21/2 hour ride as soon asI find out how many miles that is, I'll see how close I am to 100 mi a day that I need to do the STP.
Wherza map?
O.K. About 26 miles. 26 miles in 21/2 hrs is just a touch over 10 mph.
10 into 100 is 10 hours. gaahhh! I'm staggering now.
Last year I did 50 miles around Lake Washington in 7 hours, that's 14 hours halfway to Portland
I dunno, doesn't seem realistic to me.
Anyway,
before I left, I managed to plaster up the wall that will be behind the
new Kitchen cabinets. This project looks like it might actually get
finished!
The string quartet stuff I'm writing sounded good to me until I listened to Jeremy Denk, David Kim, and Bion Tsang play Ive's trio for violin, cello, and piano.
Maybe my problem is that, although I am a loony, I'm not a raving loony.
I guess that makes all the difference, as the great philosopher Dan Quayle, once said well, He might have
You understand, when I call Ives a loony, I'm referring only to his political opinions, his music is supernal;
sublime, outrageous, warm, human, plain, simpleminded, complicatedminded,
sentimental, harsh, overdone, rare, over easy, natural, absurd, charming, disgusting, fromulous, dhumatic, farfig newton, and I dunno...just great.
The part of the mind that Music addresses is the same part that religion addresses.
It's just that when the music is over you are expected to applaud and go home not rise up and bash down the walls of Jericho.
Well written lunacy can be inspiring, a joy to behold. Even knowing that it is folly, it is still invigorating to listen to the high flown nonsense of guys like Caeser, Hitler, Lincoln, Bush and many others.
Or Jesus, for crissake (sorry)
Doesn't it sound nice? Love everybody (as soon as we "convert" them.
"Convert" means kill off if they don't "get it" or if they ask embarrassing questions).
Give everybody a break, try to understand where they're coming from.
Forgive them thier trespasses, even though they steal the radio out of your car, or try to run over you as you peacfully walk from your favorite resturant on Queen Anne hill, or get your ass 86'd from Benaroya hall.

My evil nose has gotten my bad blood on many a sweet loving Christian fist.
But what the hey? You all love me, and you are obviously the smart party.
I mean, My mom read me the bible all about Jesus and all I got was four bruised cheeks. (Haw!)
Fidelio is running nicely, as soon as I adjust the derailleurs so I can shift without losing a chain, it'll be perfect.

Once again my steam guage tells me I am running out of that commodity

Hay nos vemos, cocodrilo.

You say Oh-vid, I say Ah-vid

Now that you have all seen and, no doubt fallen in love with Katy, I'll tell you something she was doing last night.
Last night, at the Good Shepard center, Katy was one of the singers for a presentation of Ovid's Metamorphoses.
The series of mythological tales, originally in Greek, was here recited in
the more modern languages of English, Latin, (Church Latin,
which is for worshiping the great unknown, rather than Roman Latin
[which I pretend to know something about, having read Henry Beard's
"Latin for all Occasions" {Lingua Latina Occasionibus Omnibus Henricus Barbatus scripsit}) which is for kicking Europe's ass in to some semblance of order.
and Valley girl. No, really. Moon's influence, I suppose.
The first part of the show featured the music of Margie Pos.
Sort of a small Bass concerto (co-incidence?) with Margie on bass and a small ensemble consisting of
Cello/percussion by Ben Deitzen,
Accordion by Marchette DuBois
Percussion by Mike Hamms,
Violin by Paris Hurley,
Scott Rixe laptop,
and a vocal ensemble with Sarah Burgess, Amber Flame, Flora McGill, and Katy Webber.

Very nice bass work combined with some interesting percussion and accordion.
And of course, poetry and vocal chords by the Sirens

After a short intermission, Ovid showed up, as interpreted by Gretta Harley, who composed and conducted.
Shiela Daniels and Sarah Rudinoff narrated.
The Stylin' Sirens did the vocal backup.
The Stylin' sirens are;
Juliana Brandon
Marchette DuBois
Margie Pos
Maeg O'Donoghue-Williams
Sarah Burgess
Amber Flame
Flora McGill
Katy Webber

Lovely choral sounds.
Very entertaining narration.

Still reading from the program here;
Publius Ovidius Naso 43BC-17AD master storyteller (check wikipedia.org for the whole story)
Metamorphoses, a narrative poem in 16 books. 45 tales about love in all it's disgusting glories and painful ecstasies.

1) Introduction:
"Now I am ready to tell how bodies are changed into different bodies
(in nova fert animus mutates, dicere formas corpora)"

2) Echo and Narcissus
3) Semele and Juno
4) Arachne and Minerva
5) Myrrah
6) Tereus and Philomela
7) Arethusa

Finale
"Some are transformed just once and live their lives after in that
shape. Others have a facility for changing themselves as they please"

Madonna comes to mind.

And Mitt Romney.

Come to think of it, I used to be a person who could get into a pair of 30 inch waist pants.

So, anyway I enjoyed the show thoroughly and was glad I attended.

Excuse me, a cat just jumped up on my lap and delivered several seed pods and other outdoor detritus Hey! stay away from the keybojysa;og;

My day in town

Actually, this Wednesday starts on Tuesday. After the dentist
appointment, I drove through town rather than take the usual lake
route. This clever maneuver brought me to 15th ave. The very 15th ave
that sports another Cafe Victrola, a very different Cafe Victrola. I
stopped and had coffee and a chocolate croissant. Jeremy Denk was not there, probably over on the evil side of the lake. Where Bill Gates and Paul Allen hide out occasionally.
I do hope he returns safely.
On to Wed. Ladro, Librero, ecterero.
I know we have just this instant gotten to Wednesday, but now I want to
go back in time to the Chamber Music festival, bear with me, this will
make perfect nonsense soon.
While Meredith and I were at the aforementioned fiesta musica,
a woman came up (down, to be perfectly frank [our seats are row "C" the
strangers were further down the alphabet]) and asked if my wife might
not be the incredibly talented writer Laurie R. King. (I didn't know how incredible until about 3:00 this morning).
She was not (My wife was not {ms King, that is})
Suddenly, we are back in the Seattle public library again, because, I am looking for books by L.R.K
I found one, "Keeping Watch" which I read last night and early this morning, also which is why my eyes look like this and my spch ss shluuyrid
The walk up to Cap Hil was long because... I don't know, I'm just tired.
What else?
I didn't stop at Victrola (the frame shop one just east of Mel Brooks)
Lesson was as usual.
Wait a minute, on the way up, I stopped at Westlake Mall for lunch.
On the way up, I stopped at another mall to listen to some S. Amer music. Guitar, quatro, bass, perc, trumpet.
#9 bus home.....
Nice talkin' to ya, got things to do...drop by anytime.

Today and goodbye

Got a dental appointment, not much time this morning.
Lemme see.....what am I reading?
Leonard Bernstein, the Mick Jagger of the fifties.
That's not the title of thr book, it's just a thought I had while reading of his social and public life. The book is by Humphrey Burton
Not the greatest musician, but made up for it with personality.
Read a few pages of Ives lunatic ravings, decided I dont need it. I can get that kind of stuff from the newspaper.
"Essays before a sonata and other writings" edited by Howard Boatwright.
Ives was an insurance salesman, fair game.
George Gershwin, a biography. By Edward Jablonski.
These guys started out younger than I. They also displayed "Talent" whatever that is.
Unless it means "raving looney" in which case Ives qualifies as the most "talented"
Talented enough to be president.
But enough about me, tell me a little about yourself...whoops, look at the time, gotta run.

Monday

Seafair: Oberto won the race. Thet've been trying forever and finally did it. Art is happy and I'm going to buy some sausage.
Also, I've more or less finished the tuba concerto. At least I've got the sound alright, but unless there is a possibility of performance, I see no reason to waste a lot of paper printing out scores.
So..... on down the score to violin. Ick!, after all the thrill and noise and magnificant loudness of the brass concertos, I am now stuck with the wimpy squealy violin. I really prefer a solo voice that can be heard above it's envionment. Maybe an amped violin. Nah, that would be cheating, against the rules I've set for this project.
Or, maybe, I should go back to the horn concerto, which doesn't work very well, it's really boring.
I'm writing a piece for string quartet as warm-up but haven't actually started the concerto yet.
But you (By you, I mean me) never know.

Also, I've resurrected an earlier piece for two violins, which I am planning to present at the salon now that the salon is being held at a non-toxic venue not yet hostile to my presence.
I'll post it soon.
I need to hire two violinists for this project. Any horsehair cowboys, any catgut wranglers out there reading this?
I've got a LaneSavant grant that should cover expenses.

I've got to put the past behind me and move on. Now that I've let cheeses into my heart I must make profitable use of the time I have left between now and the triple bypass.

Ummm.....
Young Frankenstein opens (tomorrow?). Tempted to buy tickets.

You know?. (of course you don't) I think I've dad a headache for the last week or so,
not that my head actually ached, but this morning it suddenly feels like it has been and now it's gone.
My wife claims that migraines can be like that, whatta I know?

Columbia, the gem of Rainier Avenue

Thanks to a friend of mine who sings in the band, I found a nightclub variety show in Columbia city.
Accordian & voice by Amy Denio, A hypnotist, Comedy improv, a jumprope genius, and other fun stuff.
No Guinness, however.
The band is named......uhh...Cheese something; Cheese louise?, no...Cheese Schrisht?,
Cheese factory? I don't remember. They were good. But My friend, Katy, didn't get any solos.
Other than that, It was a typical Wedensday. Bus, Ladro, Library, walk, school, Cafe Victrola. I'll have to find out where that name comes from.
We used to have a Victrola, had to wind it up to play scratchy, breakable, foot-wide records. Spike Jones.
Turns out that Mel Brooks recently visited "The Old Vic", as nobody ever calls it.
As far as I know, Jeremy Denk and Mel Brooks never met either.
Nor did Mike Pretorius and "Lucy" Pavoratti.
It's a lonely world.














This is what Katy looks like