November 2008 (a summary)...

Election anxiety. Election party. Election elation! Grading papers. Grading papers. Thanksgiving with friends. Drunken debauchery. Piano lessons. Piano lessons. Piano lessons. Piano lessons. Grading papers. Exhaustion. Thanksgiving with family. Good clean fun. Food. Food. Food. Bad transmission. Goodbye Nissan. New car! New car loan. Parents. Cousins. Parents. I need a drink. Drunken debauchery. Exhaustion.

And....

scene.

i've been listening to modest mouse again. (gonna float on maybe would you understand?)

the days get shorter and the nights get cold
i like the autumn but this place is getting old
i pack my belongings and i head for the coast
it might not be a lot but i feel like i'm making the most...

i like songs about drifters - books about the same
they both seem to make me feel a little less insane
walked on off to another spot
i still haven't gotten anywhere that i want
did i want love? did i need to know?
why does it always feel like i'm caught in an undertow?


(modest mouse, world at large)

on my mind: minimalism (the kind that has to do with repeated notes and tiny-but-poignant motives), the scottish highlands, churches on sundays, taking a walk, pianos, computers, messes made, doors closed, new boots, a lake, text messages, transmissions, car loans, wine (in bottles and boxes), food in boxes, food in space, plans, 84th birthdays, family, empty things, full things, giving thanks without saying grace, cities, mountains and moors, and cinnamon rolls a la my aunt suz.

Death by Wagner...

True story:

I was sitting at home tonight grading papers (what else?), when I noticed a giant fucking cockroach nonchalantly strolling across my living room floor. Gross!! And yes, in Texas, giant cockroaches do actually "nonchalantly stroll." Fuck them all.

The thoughts that raced through my head upon seeing the cockroach:

1. Fucking shit.
2. Why have we only had 4 cockroaches in this house ever and each time they have appeared when I'm home alone with nobody to help me kill them or even provide moral support in the endeavor??!! Why?
3. Fucking shit.
4. What can I use to kill it?? My closest pair of shoes are in the other room on the other side of the cockroach's path.
5. Fucking, fucking, shit.

The actual closest thing nearby just happened to be an SMU library book titled Wagner's Ring (sorry SMU!!). I promptly threw Wagner's Ring at the cockroach, and, as he was strolling rather slowly and Wagner's Ring is a rather large book, I managed to kill him in one fell swoop.

In hind-sight, a rather operatic way to go...for a cockroach...

R.I.P.



(Final scene from the second opera in Wagner's Ring cycle (Die Walküre). This is Wotan's farewell to Brünnhilde.)

Because it's Sunday...

A little gospel-inspired blues from a British missionary kid turned singer/songwriter:



Beth Rowley (Nobody's Fault But Mine)

Countdown with me.

A countdown of countdowns...

10. 3 hours until I'm done teaching for the week and can begin my weekend.
9. 14 more papers to read before I'm finally done grading (well, at least until after Thanksgiving).
8. 5 hours until I get to eat dinner at my favorite restaurant in Dallas. I'm hungry. Now.
7. 5 days until I'm done teaching for Thanksgiving break!! Yay, holiday breaks!!
6. 29 days until my birthday. Gross. Late(ish) twenties, here I come!
5. 30 days until I'm done teaching for the semester. And again, I say... Yay, holiday breaks!!
4. 2 and 1/2 chapters, 1/2 of a French test, and 1 thesis defense until I'm done with my second effing masters.
3. 32 days until I leave for Scotland for Christmas!!
2. 40 days left in 2008. Yay, New Year's Eve in the U.K. with my sister!
1. 60 days until we are GWB free! Is it too early to start planning an inauguration party?

Oh, and while we're on the subject of counting down, watch this:



Even if you already saw it, watch it again. It's Ben Affleck's only really successful moment since Good Will Hunting.

And lest we take ourselves too seriously, Mr. Cage...

4'33 a la Mario:



God, I need to quit watching nerdy musicological(ish) clips on YouTube and actually grade some music history papers.

"Whereas I love sounds, just as they are..."

What does it say about me that I was recently re-watching (for the twentieth-something time this month) this video of John Cage and was suddenly reminded of a clip from Bridget Jones's Diary?? Don't tell me. I don't really want to know....

(....she says, as she quickly dispels images of herself as a sad, slightly over-weight, 40-something musicologist in poorly fitting relax-fit khakis sitting in a room that smells of cat litter amidst piles of academic debris watching Colin Firth marathons on Lifetime alone on Saturday night whilst sipping day-old coffee spiked with cheap whiskey...)

Anyway, here's Cage on silence:



In all seriousness (and moving away from discussions involving Colin Firth and/or romantic comedies), sometimes I feel I do want sounds - and laughter for that matter - to mean something. I may even need them to mean something. I am so fascinated by Cage because when I hear him talk I realize I'm listening to a man who went about life listening to the world in ways I never can/will. Sure, I can stop and consciously choose to focus on silence for a period of time (maybe even for four minutes and thirty-three seconds), but my ears and my busy mind are constantly filtering out sounds that are "just sounds." Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be in tune with sound as he must have been.

I have a very distinct memory from when I was about 9 or 10 of talking to a man who was telling me he was color blind. For days I couldn't quit asking myself, "how did he know he was color blind???" Clearly, I understand the concept now. Color blind people can't distinguish between colors the way "normal" people can. But I still think about it sometimes. How do we know that when I say "red" my mental image of "red" is the same as his or yours or anyone's? It's all perception, really...

And perception is a fascinating concept.

When I hear Cage talk, I feel like I get a bit of insight into his perception. For moments I can hear "silence" the way he hears it. Or, who knows, maybe I'm not even close and I am just indulging my own perception of Cage's perception...

Circles.

Anyway, I will say Beethoven and Mozart repeat a great deal. I concur. But what lovely repetition!

Also, I love the part of the clip with the cat.

"These are the towns our lives abandoned..."

A new friend of mine recently introduced me to the poet Charles Wright (thanks wm!). Wright is a native of Tennessee and the title of this blog post is a line from his poem, "Appalachian Farewell." I don't know if it's the fall weather, the poetry, the approaching holidays, or some other more hidden, subconscious reason, but I've been feeling a bit nostalgic recently.

This is where I grew up:





I think when you are away from a place for a really long time (I moved away almost 10 years ago and haven't visited in nearly 5), you have to revisit it emotionally and mentally to make sure it's real.

And to make sense of who you have become.





Anecdotally, when I googled "erwin tn images", the second picture that popped up was of a guy I knew from high school whose cousin was my across-the-street neighbor growing up. And the pic is of him posing with Hulk Hogan. I kid you not. Also on the first page of image results was the "famous" (or rather, infamous) photo of Mary the hanging elephant. The elephant thing is really insane. If you have a minute or two, read about it and experience a little piece of sick and twisted Americana.

Small. Fucking. Towns.

Out with the old!

My neighbor's trash this morning...



(And, yes...I did stop on the way out to my car this morning and take a picture of my neighbor's bulk trash pile. You know what they say, "one man's trash is another woman's blog post.")

Oversight Shmoversight...

So, according to the Treasury Secretary's inspector general, Eric Thorson (quoted in today's Washington Post), the $750 billion bailout package is "a mess." Great. Is there anything else we can give GWB to do in the next few months so he can totally fuck that up too?

In light of this news, I chatted my friend in exasperation:

Me: Can January get here faster???
Luke: Nope

Damn it.

I had really amazing French Toast at brunch today...

I just realized my last seven posts have been in one way or another about the election. So, here's a post that has nothing to do with politics:

I went to brunch today at Toulouse on Knox with my roommate. We ordered the most incredible French toast I've had in a while. It was "orange" French toast with maple syrup, warm mascarpone, and fresh berries. Indulgent? I'll say! Oh, and in the spirit of full disclosure, we actually ordered this as our "brunch dessert." We had both already had an entire amazing brunch meal to ourselves (she had eggs benedict and I had eggs over roasted potatoes). I've decided now that brunch should always include some kind of brunch dessert. If you just go ahead and plan on having brunch dessert, you avoid the whole "do I eat something sweet (i.e. crepes or waffles) or do I get eggs" dilemma. This, my friends, is what I call having one's cake and eating it too. Or rather, having one's eggs and eating french toast, too!

And one more quick thought...

Maybe brunch should also come with appetizers. Mini-pancakes or a small bowl of oatmeal, perhaps? Hmm...

There are leaves in my yard...

Admittedly, the foliage in Dallas isn't much to write home about. This is especially true for me since "home" means Appalachia where, clearly, they've got the autumn leaves thing pretty much covered. But, this year I've got a decent tree in my yard (that's right, folks, I said yard!!!) and there is a decided crunching sound underfoot when I walk to my car. It makes me smile, and for some reason, chilly weather and falling leaves always makes me listen to Dylan. I've also been listening to Swell Season again. I feel there are certain songs/bands/music that are seasonal and Swell Season and Dylan are November for me. But I digress...

So, anyway, if you haven't listened to "The Times They Are-A-Changing" at least once this election season, you should:



Oh, and last Tuesday night, Dylan performed this live as the election results were streaming in at a concert in Minnesota.

"And don't criticize

What you can't understand

Your sons and your daughters

are beyond your command

Your old road is

Rapidly agin'.

Please get out of the new one

If you can't lend your hand

For the times they are a-changin'."

How the other half lives. Or, Highland Park's got the blues...

I teach private piano lessons in homes (er...um...mansions) in Highland Park, one of the most affluent neighborhoods in Dallas. Now, in general, I don't tend to bite the proverbial hand that quite literally feeds me. That being said...

This last week was bizarre. Everyone in Highland Park (with very few exceptions) seemed depressed after Tuesday's election and pretty much just acted as if nothing of significance had happened. They were moping. They looked defeated and miserable on Wednesday morning at Starbucks and walked around like stunned, sad puppies. I felt awkward because I (still) can't quit smiling. Now, obviously I avoid politics in conversations with my student's parents. But, kids talk (and frequently say the darndest things...) Nearly everyone one of my students last week mentioned being upset about the election results. This was the most humorous post-election analysis from a little girl I teach on Wednesdays:

M. (8): Man, this is a bad day.
Me: Oh, why is that?
M.: Well, we had two really big elections at our school yesterday. One was, you know, the one with Obama and McCain, and I wanted McCain to win soooo bad but he lost. The other one was for like, third grade class president, and I wanted my best friend to win but this boy beat her. (Huge sigh...)

I need a change of scenery. Perhaps somewhere where people are happy and, oh, i don't know, maybe feeling a little hopeful???

Change you can chew on...

On election day, several of my friends who live across the street from a fire station/polling place got a keg and had a little election day party in the yard. I stopped by before work and took a few pics. It was exciting. People honked as they drove by and voters stopped by for a beer. My friend L made these cookies. I call this pic below, "Edible Hope."



One of our republican friends brought this beer in honor of good ol' Sarah Palin.



What a good day...

Nov. 4, 2008

I'm too tired, excited, stunned, and admittedly a little tipsy, to come up with something interesting to say about what I just watched. So I'll do that tomorrow. For right now...

I'm just smiling, and smiling, and smiling...

Yes we can. Yes we can. Yes we can.

Twas the night before the election...

And I can't sleep.

But that's okay, because if I'm tired or hungry in the morning, I can re-stick my gently worn (since thursday) "I Voted" sticker on my shirt and head to Starbucks for free coffee, Krispy Kreme for free donuts, and Ben and Jerry's in the afternoon for a little free ice-cream/sugar-rush. Question: how many free cups of coffee can I get from Starbucks tomorrow? For the sake of my nerves, two is probably enough...

So tomorrow...

I'm pulling for North Carolina. I miss it and I'm so proud of it and it's "influx of new residence" for making it what it is today, a bona fide Swing State!!!

I'm stopping by my friend's house (conveniently located across the street from a fire station turned poling place) to sit in the yard, watch the crowd, and help him handout free beer from the keg they bought.

Teaching piano. Nine piano lessons, actually. Which I think is good. What better to get one's mind off polls, polls, polls, than children and music?

And in the spirit of anti-anxiety, going to sleep, and a much needed real "moment of zen", here is Schumann's Träumerei as only Horowitz can play it...interestingly, as an encore in Russia...a country Palin can see from her house...blah blah...enough is enough. Goodnight!

A procrastinator's note to the last-minute decider...

Are you still an undecided voter? I totally get waiting for the last minute. The chance for an October surprise, not showing your cards, baffling pollsters, I get it. I do. But honestly, at this point, well, it's the last minute. And you're killing us...the suspense...it's killing us...

Anyway, here's a song for you, "with ten free hours of time." But after that. Seriously...
"Make Your Mind Up", Chairlift

Some people are better than me at several things. Or, why I want to have Jeremy Denk's babies...

There's this guy, Jeremy Denk. He's a brilliant concert pianist and a very witty writer. I don't actually know Jeremy Denk. I'm just a big fan. Also, I decided the first time I read his blog/heard one of his recordings that I want to do him. (**Anywhere, anytime, Jeremy...) His writing, although over-wrought with excessive allusions and metaphors, is clever, insightful, and peppered with musicological factoids and handy audio clips that make me weak in the knees. Normally, I'd keep this most damning of information to myself (I realize this is possibly the nerdiest thing I've ever written). But recently, Jeremy posted a blog about Sarah Palin I just couldn't resist sharing. It may not be funny to you unless you have wasted your time earning a degree in music, have performed or analyzed Beethoven's Hammerklavier sonata, or know a bit about Schenkerian analysis, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Also, you can listen to Jeremy play a bit of Ives here.

And just for fun, here's his description (from an older post) of performing a piece by Igor Stravinsky and attending a post-performance dinner with sponsors:

"And Igor, Igor, if you have three notes why must they all be five miles apart? Why are my poor exhausted hands mere jerky puppets of your disjointed imagination? I longed for smooth, adjacent notes without articulation, without acrid wit: I longed for a soothing milkshake of music, gliding down my mental esophagus, towards my awaiting, lactose-tolerant soul. My meal was wet, but my music was dry, and I longed for vice versa.

After the Stravinsky concert was a truly bizarre spectacle: a meal for the festival sponsors, in the spectacular nave of St. Bart’s, proving that if sponsors wish to drink three kinds of flavored vodka in a church, they most certainly will. All hail sponsors! The meal was pretty unbelievably great and I set to the twenty courses with a vengeance to recover all the calories Stravinsky’s leaping had cost me. I was asked if I was single (oh, yes, yes, yes) and was offered a glowing description of a recently divorced 30-something daughter who is looking for a good man. It occurred to me: if they were to consider a pianist a good prospect, then their standards must be fluctuating, or collapsing. But caraway vodka could account for their lack of judgment.

The Lord looked down on us all, feasting and boozing and matchmaking in His or Her house."

Coming down with the flu means...

Missing out on an entire Saturday, battling feverish aches, losing one's lunch (or at least one's dinner from yesterday as I've yet to really eat "lunch" today), and endlessly perusing the many corners of the internets to distract oneself from general misery. On the last front, thank god it's the weekend before the presidential election as there are political musings a plenty to digest. I found this quote from Andrew Sullivan on his blog, "The Daily Dish," ironically pertinent.

"The more I think about it the more this election day feels like one giant collective, global puke. That Bush-Cheney thing never quite settled with us, did it? We'll feel a lot better but a lot more tired once the last heave is over."

Oh, and, I won't be offended if you spray down your computer screen with Lysol after reading this post...