The Existence

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 00:14:33 GMT

We did indeed go get stuff. Spatulas, oven mitts, vitamins, and a glue mousetrap I put it down about an hour ago when we got back. I figured since I'd seen the mouse running along one side of the apartment under the counters and along the couch wall, I'd put it right next to the couch.

Just now I looked at it, and it had disappeared. What?

I picked up the couch and there it was underneath with a mouse on it, scrabbling away with his free front feet. I didn't really want to squish him or chop his head off, so I put him in a paper Whole Foods bag and took it down to the dumpster across the street and set it on its side, so when he gets off the glue (they inevitably do), he can go dumpster diving.

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:52:32 GMT

Mama came to stay till Wednesday and see my concert tomorrow, so she's been chatting up a storm with both roommates. Brent is well-disposed to talk about growing up on a farm, and Tony of course is always ready to discuss matters of vocal health and development.

We may go get some things that have been on a list forever to get, now that the boys have gone to their respective gigs. I really do need a spatula, and not just because I like the word. And oven mitts. And probably a mousetrap, though I wish I could just catch the little dude and put him in a box.

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 18:01:13 GMT

It is a good day that starts with a Brenty head poked in my open door to say good morning as I read Herriot in bed.

And then there was a roommate pile and a roundhouse butt-kicking competition and Chanticleer doing McGlynn.

I shall embark upon train adventur as a means of meeting mama at the airport. All shall be grand.

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 21:16:55 GMT

Odd that my post from yesterday didn't show, but it basically said nothing to report. Lesson was good, we even sang a little at the end. People on the street (though not the Jordan doorkeeper, who is a fan) continue to condescend solicitously about my shoelessness and its potential to attract disease. There's also a positive comment nearly every day from a denizen of the street about my hair. One guy today stopped in his tracks on the way past me to stare and exclaim how much he liked it, and he wasn't one I would've pegged.

Robin has a gig this evening that apparently has belly dancers in it, which sounds interesting to me. It starts late, so hopefully I'll hear something from her before then.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 23:13:57 GMT

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 20:12:26 GMT

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 03:20:19 GMT

There is finally a production assignment resultant from my Coleman lesson. I must create an object canalizing my interest in harmonic complexity with the ideas I've absorbed from the array of monophonic approaches to multiple planes I've been listening to. And also incorporate the idea of timbre as a variable element and potential building block.

And in Ear Training we played the bass line and sang the melody of Ugly Beauty. I was slightly perturbed when after my turn he started the line of playful compliments that results in emphasizing my classical education (which amounts to a hole in jazz education). He even brought up the von Otter rock record, which I don't know but I'm sure is pitifully operatic, and I don't want to be that. My Monk sounded like an art song because that's what I know how to sing and I don't know the original. Nor much about the entire tradition. Oh, well. I didn't get too defensive.

Tiny teenaged trumpet in our ensemble this evening had an improv piece he'd written and it was excellent fun.

I have to write a farmaisi chakradar before class tomorrow, but it is dark and nightly and I think I will do it in the morning. I may just give up on the evening and go to bed now. I tickled Tony pretty exhaustively when he called me in to show me some of the Chambers music, so now he's beat and I'm indifferent to the night so I might as well use it for sleeping.

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 02:36:14 GMT

Today has been a day of mighty procrastination. I didn't even feel like doing the things I'd thought I might do for fun. I read half a book and played on the internet and, once or twice like pulling motivational teeth I listened to and wrote down responses to music Coleman told me to respond to.

I haven't even gotten dressed today. Brent asked me if I would stay home with him as he pulled his own motivational teeth practicing (it makes him desperately unhappy to practice classical music and he ends up improvising awesome overtones or counterpoint with himself that has nothing to do with what he's working on half the time). I told him I had rigid plans not to go anywhere at all.

As it's the first, and Tony arrived home last night, we took turns resisting the thought of taking the rent checks to the landlord downstairs, who will talk your ear off for an hour about Jesus and life if you don't forcibly remove yourself. As Brent left for rehearsal and I did it last time, Tony bit the bullet and hoped for a reprieve in length of engagement since he was obviously dressed to be on his way somewhere else (namely, the gym). 45 minutes later he calls me from outside the front door on his actual way to the gym to tell me they've lowered the rent back to what it was before I moved in, because we're nice people and they like nice people. It's not that much less, but it's still good news.

I really must do something today. Or I'll have to do it all in the middle of the week, and I'd prefer to be sleeping at night.

Speaking of which, now that we've Fallen Back, it is now deepest night outside at 6pm. It's vaguely disturbing. I am alarmed by the prospect of winter here, where it will be dark practically all the time. I look to candles for the salvation of my psychological well-being.

Not that I dislike the dark; it's just different. And I associate dark time with not-doing-anything time, where you can sleep or play and not do work. That could be unfortunate. Starting with today.

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 02:11:02 GMT

Look, it's an hour! To sleep in! I slept.

Good thing, too, because I was sleepy. I don't know why short road trips and day-long spectation-based activities exhaust me so, but they always do. I didn't even walk around as much as I would in a normal school day, but there were episodes of drowsing even on the car ride home.

Then again, it was a full day. I rose early to pull myself together and be at Alewife, the furthest-north Red Line station, by 9:30. I actually met Kihou, my fellow ride-hitcher and a member of the Carolingian Quire whose practice I attended Monday night, coming out of the train at Alewife, so we waited together for Eowyn to drive up at the passenger-pickup area. We picked up one more passenger on the way out of town, a talkative girl named Gail for whom this was a first event. She picked a good one.

The merchants' booths were first to be encountered walking down the hill to the site. There was a place with kitschy little chainmail bracelets (stretchy, as half the links were elastic; Gail got one) and sheets of mail with designs on them, nothing serious. A few of the other booths were more clearly striving to match the name artisan. Lovely though overpriced (I admit I'm spoiled by my experience of the wholesale section at the Gem Show) rock carvings. A wood-and-metal stand with beautiful feast gear and obscenely inexpensive beautiful knives; despite this, I did not return home heavily armed, as I had spent all my cash but a dollar in change at the gate on entrance and feast fees. However, there was a place with lovely matte glass beads 5 for $1, and as I couldn't decide between my last six picks, she let me have all of them.

Gail and I kept each other company for most of the day, and as we sauntered over to the list fields to watch the early end of the tournament, we encountered the day-board tent. I had never been to such a well-foddered event; there were all manner of medieval snacks and lunch done to perfection. Pasties of scrumptious cheese, some of mince and meat and raisins, a number of apple which were just like tiny bites of perfect pie. There was hot cider, also perfect, and heaps of lovely round loaves of various kinds of bread upon which to put hacks off of the blocks of cheese and ham and sausage (I opted out of the bread, but it was good-looking). I kept going back for those little pasties, to the point where a slight twinge of guilt invaded my thoughts. The pasties were there partially for the fighters, as bite-size energy refreshers between bouts.

At the beginning of every bout there's a formulaic recitation by a herald who asks the combatants to pay honor to the crown, the one who inspires them to fight today (the lady on whose behalf they're fighting; she'll be the Queen if he wins), and the crowd here assembled, and then asks them to pay heed to the marshal, who advances and ceremoniously starts the bout.

At the beginning it was harder to tell what was going on, and we were distracted by the food, but once the line lengthened and we sat down, Eowyn started introducing us to various interesting worthies. The Baron of Carolingia, Jehan du Lac, was either a woman playing as a man or a transgendered man, and my hesitance to ask and his hesitance to stay made our conversation short. On the other hand, Master Li Kung Lo, a Grandmaster Bowman and decorated archery coach, was most effusive. He spoke to us thoroughly and methodically of his work (both with arrows and in his small recording studio) for nearly an hour before we rose to observe more on the field.

Which was surely impressive. Not only because they were well-fought, but they were well-watched, especially toward the end of the tournament, when the heavy hitters were all that was left. Everyone knew what was going on and who the competitors were, and there was a sense of very specifically shared community permeating the field as the spectators oohed or hissed at a particularly good blow or a skilfully played death.

And for some of them even I could participate in the appreciation. The final bout, to determine the next King of the East, was long and skilled, with lots of speed and muscle. The Peers of the Realm, people who have titles bestowed for service or skill, are allowed, according to East Kingdom tradition, to sit inside the ropes cordoning off the field of play from the spectators for the very last battle. They were often forced to jump or slip under the rope when the combatants ranged in their direction compelled by the force of their fighting.

At last the Prince and Princess, heir in 6 months to the Throne of the East, were determined. Everyone seemed pleased with the outcome, and the Prince is apparently relatively local to Carolingia, which made Eowyn happy. He is certainly prepared to fill the current King's shoes in terms of adequate hair. Indeed, King Konrad is possessed of the most abundant, gloriously barbaric mane, and his Queen Brenwen's hair rivals that of the Waterhouse and Leighton women, Guinevere, Isolde, and all.

The King, in fact, is a nearly perfect modern recreation of the elegantly, nobly barbaric early medieval monarchs chosen by right of arms. He has a wide and ready smile and a gracious concern for his people, and in the SCA tradition as in antiquity before Kingship became hereditary he was on the field as a marshal at his own tournament, striding the lines with solid but stately competence, crown gleaming unselfconsciously at a rakish tilt. His astute and companionable humor with his fellow fighters sent chortles rippling through the crowd at moments of repose in the bouts.

He is in fact the very modern model of the Arthurian commoner king, with his native working-class Jersey accent, a self-proclaimed stick jock. During the presentation of awards at Court after the tournament, I began to see how the egalitarian and romantic ideals of the SCA are expressed. Chivalry, fealty, and honor are not just pretty words for nice poems here. Whether wrapped in courtly jargon by the pre-prepared Herald, or calmly and plainly stated by the unpreposessing Queen, or stutteringly improvised by the occasionally tongue-tied King with his peculiar fondness for the word "endeavor", the clean sincerity of the sentiments and the staunch appreciation of the game and its fellow players rises like sweet cream through a milk of opaquely charming tradition. People who care hard and do well are cared hard for and done well by by their feudal superiors.

And the titled nobility are themselves for the most part a reluctantly-ruling meritocracy. The newly determined Prince and Princess were received with a similar devotion by the populace (and not merely because their hair was also glorious). The competition for the position is only undertaken by those who have the time to commit to appearing at nearly every event above a certain administrative level, and Eowyn mentioned to me that the responsibility of a year-long term as royalty is known to make or break relationships. Traveling constantly for the sake of the game is a drain. Though little to none of the administrative burden of the SCA falls on the shoulders of royalty, the people who do do the actual work are honored, revered, titled, and awarded just as much, and long after they are no longer in office. The rule is that functionary titles remain in office as long as they can be convinced not to leave.

Gail and I sat feast with quite a few noble table companions, among them the Baron Stephan and Baroness Elspeth of Bridge. The Baron is also a member of the college of heralds, and as I had questions about the process of registering a name and device, we talked at length of heraldry. He seemed impressed with the initiative I took opting for a period-language Middle English byname. An amateur linguist himself, he explained pleasantly about the Latin class he plans to teach from the perspective of synchronic and diachronic comparative linguistics. He liked the drawing I had of my proposed device, and recommended avenues of research for documentation of authenticity of my name.

Elspeth, a tiny and implausibly conical lady, sweetly answered all our politological questions about titles and the personalities inhabiting the current court. She herself had been Queen at least once, and it further impressed on me the opportunity this game allowed for real humanism, both in the Renaissance literary sense of reviving the beautiful literary and artistic past, and in the more recent sense of the universal dignity of people. Anyone who wants to can play, and play well and beautifully, and be acknowledged for it. The Crown Tournament made obvious to me the skills and fortitude of the King (a landscaper and substitute teacher waiting for his license in grade-school History) as a combatant and marshal. His shortcomings in extemporaneous speechmaking were simply smiled upon by a benevolent populace because not only was he their present ruler who had their sworn fealty, he was a person whom they knew and loved. His and Queen Brenwen's good opinions, when bestowed in a scroll and a speech and a new title on some member of the assembly, were worthwhile.

Everyone turned out as well as could be imagined. The feast, which I dare not forget to mention, was better than at any event I've ever previously attended. The multiple courses, served by volunteers noble and common, among them our fellow passenger Kihou, were divided by performances of the jongleurs, who happened to be Diabolis in Musica whom we'd narrowly missed hearing at King Richard's Faire. They were both skilled and authentic, with pipes and fifes and drum and even a hurdy-gurdy. Bowl after plate of mushrooms, beef stew, beet-and-turnip roast, pork pie, spiced leeks (one of my favorites), chickpeas, green salads, and further innumerable medieval culinary triumphs made the rounds of the tables, served whimsically (after High Table of course) according to no particular order of precedence. I could barely begin to make a dent in the irresistibly steaming apple and citrus zest pie, let alone the pickled dates and candied walnuts.

Part of my difficulty with the last course was admittedly due to my friendly but stumbling conversation with the King, who had come over to the table in the course of his greetings and complimented me on my hair. The Baron to my right graciously introduced me as a recent Ansteorran immigrant, and the King, with his inimitably pugnacious Jersey accent, said "I'll gladly Mess with Texas if it'll get us more awesome people with hair like yours." We talked for a short while, patiently aware that neither of us was very good at talking, cheerfully heedless of the irrelevant accumulation of awkwardness.

For there was that. Nearly everyone was awkward to some degree, and not everyone was equally adept at ignoring it. But the sheer fellowship, even down to the thoughtless acceptance and henning-about of us the newest, outweighed any division that this kind of social ineptitude might inspire, does inspire in Mundania.

I contemplated the game as a whole and my companions in particular on the ride home between dozes, analyzing the societal construction that allowed for the escape of nerds into a constructive fantasy that then self-limits to nerddom due to outside stigma. I came to be grateful for the curious obliviousness I've always had regarding stigma of most kinds, particularly awkwardness. It's a fine game, and I'm proud to play.

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 12:27:26 GMT

Happy All Hallows', guys. I'm off to catch the T to Alewife (which sounds appropriately medieval) to get picked up by Lady Eowyn, the Quire director, for a ride to the Crown Tourney of Quintavia. Brent's plans fell through, so he'll be around all day, but he won't come with me because apparently he needs to be in town... I'll regale him this evening with stories of Court and Feast.

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 23:53:36 GMT

World rocked. And then Robin came to the apartment with me to get a cookie because Dominique's class was canceled and Robin gave me the molasses to make cookies with. We ended up trading some music and talking, which was cool. She toured with Jethro Tull, by the way, after auditioning not knowing who they were. I KNOW, WHAT.

I ate many cookies and ruminated about tomorrow. I have garb all set, I printed out some name and device submission sheets so maybe finally I can be registered, and I fixed the bag I want to carry feast gear in. There will be lunch but not dinner; what shall I make tonight that I can bring with me tomorrow?

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 02:31:06 GMT

It had been mentioned at some point that this concert was going to be focused on Anthony's work with Jelly Roll Morton, but I'd forgotten till I got the program. Aside from a couple highly specific and stylized songs on the Ain't Misbehavin' soundtrack, I hadn't heard real stride in a very long time. Probably since my dad played it. And he could be a read stride pianist. Anthony's playing Jelly Roll pulled some triggers I didn't know I had. His pieces were interspersed among the Morton sets, and the first half ended with a bass/drums/piano trio that rocked hard with Eastern-European rhythms and a set of variations on an ostinato, and I hadn't heard a jazz trio rocking out in conscious memory.

The piece we were in was first on the second half, and it went as well as if not better than it did in any rehearsal. And a girl saw me leaving after the concert and complimented me on the job I did; I don't know if that's bad because I stuck out (it's a thoroughly ensemble piece) or if she just recognized me because of my hair as someone who had been onstage.

The last piece on the concert was Anthony playing and singing a Rodgers&Hart tune called "It Never Entered My Mind". He was crying, and of course the concert was dedicated to his girlfriend who just lost her fight with cancer, so everyone else was crying, too. All of the emotion possible was directed into the performance. It was that way throughout most of the concert, too, and not just with him.

They're going for a post-concert night out in Chinatown, but I'm drained. And World starts early tomorrow morning.

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 23:46:27 GMT

I just had a Jellicle Ball moment. Danced with no forethought as hard as I could all over the kitchen, to Rufus's Go Or Go Ahead as loud as I could make it, no lights but my pillar candle. I haven't had a time like that since the last time we turned Cats up as high as it would go and gyrated Jellicly around the backyard in ears and tails, preceding our yearly howl. Guys, there should be something like this once in awhile at least. One of the most satisfying things ever to be done. Burn down the music with your brain. Then eat a fudge popsicle. Or watch a few seconds of beautiful colors. I must be a sensual hedonist.

Now, off I go to appear in a piece in Anthony Coleman's concert.

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 17:50:14 GMT

You know what's really good? Cottage cheese and apple butter. Cherries work in there too, but I already ate all of Tony's.

I am back from an adventure in Chinatown, where there was a cloth store that had heavy black corduroy (green too) for me to get in absurd yardage to make pants out of. And a cloak for this weekend, because I have no cold-weather garb and I bet it will be cold. There was a cat in the cloth store, possibly more than one. A small child and a middle-aged lady both told me they liked my tail (the little girl liked my hair, too). The lady who cut the cloth for me was very helpful and directed me to things I could line corduroy with. So now I have a big black rectangle of corduroy that looks rather elegant when I wrap it around myself, and is indeed decently warm.

I may or may not have a concert tonight. I think I do; Coleman decided at the last minute not to cancel a piano gig he had and put his NEC ensemble on it, too. We rehearsed his piece on Monday, and now I think this is the Thursday of the dress and concert. It's a cool piece, with very few and very specific notes in it.

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 01:25:12 GMT

Dominique asked me to write down the changes for Faure's Après un Rêve. It's amazing how much it resembles a 30's jazz chart. It iz SO PRITY. Maybe I will sing it as a jazz song.

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 18:17:36 GMT

Okay, guys, it turns out I'm really damn smart. Or so our class's resident Kiwi (no slouch himself) called after me to declaim as I was leaving once class was over. All I did was summarize the views of the article and challenge a couple of them, and I even made a dumb and obvious mistake with the labeling of the rhyme scheme, but it's nice to know that sometimes other people feel overwhelmed when one of us is much more prepared than everyone else. I have that feeling fairly often in class, and then I get mad at myself because my standards are too low; no particularly stunning discourse is arrayed, we're just trying to make sense of some medieval music, but too often nobody read the background material closely enough (or at all) and therefore obvious statements look like revelations.

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 15:46:16 GMT

Everyone is sick so Dominique's rehearsal was canceled this morning, which is just as well, because I'm supposed to lead discussion on Machaut 3 in Motet class today and I am rarely so authoritative on a subject that I am comfortable leading a verbal discussion of it.

Last night's Film Noir rehearsal was oddly productive, considering that Aaron the teacher was at a doctor's appointment for the first hour. We got everything rehearsed except for one piece (which I was in), and even had some of the guests who aren't in the ensemble do their scenes.

Tony left this morning for Houston. Not sure why, but I hope he has fun at home. He won't be back for a week. Brent and I will have wild, wild parties and make a terrible mess, I'm sure :)

Machaaaauuuuut motet 3 is lovely and apparently a mirror of Love and Death. Naturally. These are the middle ages. I want to read a lot of books (fiction and not, particularly Umberto Eco) on the subject of how different medieval people were from us psychologically, but instead I must explain examples of this difference in psychology in a piece of set poetry.

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 02:28:00 GMT

Lo I am returned from my first interaction with the denizens of this Carolingia which I now inhabit. I went to the Quire rehearsal (cute, huh?) at MIT (known as the borough of Mitgaard). It's very basic, but, as I've come to expect from scadians in Stargate (and all of Ansteorra that I've been to), thoroughly friendly, shy, awkward, and accepting. I felt like a well-groomed, suave, limitlessly self-confident rock star in comparison. I wonder what it is about the Society that induces so much hesitance and difficulty with interpersonal interaction? Or maybe it's a case of likes attracting in the society.

I have nothing against nerds or geeks, as I enthusiastically include myself in both categories. These guys, however, seemed to expect to be kicked. I'm certainly not the best conversationalist, but I felt like I was expected to take charge every second. Maybe an influence from my training as a performer? Do I project confidence when I am feeling musically competent no matter the social situation? I certainly did feel musically competent. There were a few rounds with verses of lyrics on the opposite side of the page from the notes, which on a first reading as one does, I had to choose either notes or words (usually it was most advantageous for me to help out with notes), but otherwise nothing was even vaguely difficult.

In any case, I've been in touch with the Chatelaine, the Baron's Clerk of the Stables (ride coordinator), and the Baron himself, and now I have plans for Halloween. The Crown Tournament (of the East Kingdom, I assume) is on Saturday in the Shire of Quintavia (Spencer, which is apparently an hour and a half away). The Quire director has offered me a ride. There'll be a tournament (naturally), Court, day board (lunch), and an Arts&Sciences display, which is always fun. There's a feast in the evening too, but preregistration ended a week ago, so I'll just bring dinner. It should be awesomely awkward. I'll overcome it, since I'm immune to awkwardness anyway, and become Stephanesquely charming and eloquent, as well as musically skilled. Or, I could be wrong, I could be the wilting wallflower in the company of a multitude of knowledgeable and enthusiastic specialists who can teach me all about life in the East Kingdom.

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:14:52 GMT

The addendum to the fun of yesterday was that Liz actually stayed awhile after driving us back. And by awhile, I mean till 2am. We were going to sing things, but I got distracted by tea and listening to everything ever that is awesome. She seemed particularly moved by the Barber Reincarnations and my two favorite movements of Rach Vespers.

Tony had church in the morning, so Brent and Liz and I retreated to have more aural revelry in my room, and candles were had, and Brent got me to finally paint an Eye of Horus on his eye, which looks quite good, and the music and company and piling were excellent. I did not get up early.

I took so many pictures yesterday, so that I could remember all the things that I always go to renfairs and see and think "I could make a better one, I won't buy that". Instead today I am making trees, because it takes a long time with constant attention to transfer pictures from my phone to the computer. So it is tree time. And some TV.

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:09:39 GMT

Werll.

King Richard's Faire was almost exacly like TRF, except slightly smaller and with pine needles everywhere, and not sweltering. And the hawkers defaulted from pseudo-RP or Cockney to New England twangs rather than drawls when you startled them by responding like a human being.

Also, I've never arrived before the gates of TRF opened, so I don't know if they do a little show like this one. It was very silly and cute, involving the King and the princess who likes the son of the Transylvanian delegation of Von Willendorf or Von Wolfenstauens or something that has come from outside the gates to visit (I only remember his first set of names, Justin Timberwolf, and yes, of course, they played all over pop culture with everything they had. The Transylvanians turned out to be vampires).

Once we were in, there were all kinds of things to find (I had even written down the highlights of the schedule from the website). To summarize: a decent piper, wenching songs, Bite Me: A Vampire Musical composed of re-gifted pop songs with cleverly altered lyrics, the joust (naturally, we went to both, the one to the death at the end), and, oddly enough, rather than the falconry show they have at TRF, there was a big cat show.

They had an adult and baby Bengal, a 10-month and 3-month royal white, an adolescent white lion, and the biggest cat in the world (he just got into Guinness), a 900-lb liger named Hercules. They were all on leashes rather than behind bars, and they got milk for walking around onstage. None of them looked bored or distressed, and apparently during the week they get to walk around the fairgrounds and see stuff, which is sure more interesting and bigger than life in a zoo. Of course I went again. It's easy to move me to monetary donations to big cats, and hey, they had a perigrine falcon and an owl to take pictures with, so now I have a picture of me in garb with an owl the size of my torso sitting on my forearm.

Speaking of money, I dropped a hot pocketful on this outing. Some on presents for me (blue-purple-glaze tiny pottery lamp! $80 bracers that I said I couldn't spend more than $50 on and then they let me have them for that! a beautiful tail I probably will never take off!), some on presents for other people, but also a bit on performers. The fire-eating juggler was both impressive and hot (in all senses of the word), so I left a couple bucks in his hat. The Nature of Mercy swordfighting duo was a Captain of the watch recruiting little kids as his lieutenants against the Evil Italian Duke, and their patter was not stale, and their combat routine was not bad. Even the second time. And the good guy was charming and solid and redheaded, so I threw a five at him. Well, not threw. I put it in his hat.

All in all, a lovely time. The final revelry in the evening after the joust to the death was enthusiastic, if musically hit-or-miss, and Tony and I have decided it would be a fun gig to have next year.

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 00:42:21 GMT

World started an hour early this morning to help make up for a class he missed for a tour, so we got to jam for a long time on things we had just learned, which means we know them really well now, and on things we hadn't done for awhile but which I remembered the words to. To say I am satisfied by participation in that ensemble is an understatement.

I had to leave half an hour early for a performance with the a cappella ensemble; we learned (VERY recently) that we'd been asked to do a couple songs or five minutes' worth of music for the Board of Trustees meeting. So we rehearsed a bit and went out there and didn't wreck anything, though it was not our most outstanding work. Which is, let me tell you, outstanding. Still, it wasn't half bad, and maybe some trustee will give us more money.

Dominique seemed to think it might be a possibility when I came in to her Friday noon class. They'd started us late, so I was extra sort of late, so I missed the first couple leftover rhythm exercises and came in on an atonal version of New York New York from Lautaro. He very much likes that class, as do I, though he seems to get more out of the discussions; that was one of the things we talked about yesterday. He likes to know everybody's musical history and how it informs their playing.

My academic advising time was an hour after class, so I went home and started making trees for Christmas presents since I felt treely inclined. Brent hadn't seen any before and was unduly impressed. He also asked me to put Egyptian eye makeup on him, and I said I'd do it as soon as I was back from academic advising, which I didn't; I shouldn't forget that when he gets home.

Cause I forgot during the hour and a half we both had after I got back, since he talked me into going to Shaw's where I got some more brown sugar and chips, both of which I'd run out of for cookies. I also got ice cream, because, hey. Also, PIE. Which I am now eating. PIEEEE. Nothing is better than pie. Except love, and certain music. And maybe the sudden cease of nausea. But not much else.

Brent got no pie. he got orange juice, ice cream (because, you know, hey), bread, and dish soap. Because I got it last time. And then he went to his rehearsal for the Jazz 40th concert tomorrow (the orchestra's playing with Wayne Shorter, which is pretty cool. He likes it).

When he comes home we will Egypt.

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 02:53:49 GMT

The sun returned! Momentarily. It was a blindingly nice and uncold morning when I traipsed off to my lesson with Dominique, for which I had prepared thoroughly. I approached the Orange Line bridge on the way to school, and noticed two fairly intimidating individuals coming the other way across. One of them was staring at me.

He said to his friend, without taking his eyes off me: "Looklooklook! Her hair is BEAUtiful!"

Yay for confounding expectations. And also yay for pretty colors.

My lesson was similarly uplifting. I now have some actual solid vocal technical things upon which to work, all related to gaining facility in the jazz modes derived from the major whole-half pattern.

I had arranged to meet Lautaro downstairs after my lesson so I could TA him for ear training, and we did a couple chords in the practice room but mostly talked for quite awhile about how I think about harmonic dictation. It seemed to help. We continued talking about that and the way the department is set up and our experiences with it as we walked back to the apartment, where he came upstairs for a short cup of tea and perspective (he had to work).

Brent came home and deigned to be piled upon on our couch for a little while before his popularity got the better of him and he went out again. I spent most of the evening working on a weird, vaguely epic loop-fest that grew from the themes I was using in the Bildungsroman improv. It's still very empty and repetitive, but it could be cool someday.

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 01:25:51 GMT

Chris-pianist finally sent me our improv from class two Fridays ago. He even included the discussion afterwards, which is informative.

The assignment was to make up a coming-of-age arc for a character in a short improv (separately) and then perform them together in pairs in class and see what happened. I tried for awhile not to let him have my story, but he followed me big time, and it ended up sounding vaguely epic and kind of pretty. Man, I love pianos.

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 23:50:21 GMT

There's a cockatiel who lives in the apartment I pass by on my way home from school. It's nice to hear that insistent chirp again after not having had birds forever.

Two a cappella rehearsals today. The one in the morning I was almost late for (making cookies since it was my turn to do refreshments in motet class. Which was cool and full of discussion about how in medieval thought sex and death were much more relevant to everything, especially religion. I love thinking about the differences in acculturation and the effect it had on expectations for poetic interpretation (which lends itself to music).

Film Noir's first rehearsal onstage in Jordan was straight after (actually it started half an hour before the end of class, but people drifted in and out according to their schedules). We got a surprising amount rehearsed, for how utterly inefficient the process was. I'm not really looking forward to this concert, but it'll be fun cause I like the people in the ensemble anyway. Simon (bassist) even said I looked dashing.

I had time to go home for food before the other Dominique-group rehearsal (without Dominique) at 6. We're singing two things for the board of trustees on Friday in the middle of the day sometime (hopefully we'll find out soon). So we practiced those, and the student director seems to be really impressed with the level of the group compared to last year. It's all right, but I think it can be better. There's a lot of singery mind-wandering and ADHD still to be overcome.

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 04:22:41 GMT

The week of celebration of the 40th anniversary of the Jazz department started Monday. Tonight was the CI department's major contribution, a presentation at the Western Front by some alums (the Michael Winograd trio) opening for Hankus and a permutation of a band of his, Another Realm. Linda Chase, that flute/bass clarinet lady with hippie hair, was in it. One of the bass guys from NEC, and the best percussion guy from the CI concert at the start of the year, Jerry Leake (I would go see him do anything). Also featured, Sarah Jarosz, our freshman mandolin/singer prodigy, who was on Prairie Home Companion last week or so.

It was a fun time; I met Helen, a grad CI violinist, on the bus on the way there, and Aaron (bass clarinet) at the thing. I do like me some klezmer. Next semester I won't flub the melody Hankus sings me in the ensemble auditions, and I'll get into the Jewish Music Ensemble. I hope.