geek chic

according to the ever-wise (and hilarious) jordan, i am "geek chic." maybe i should start designing clothes. i draw the line at cigarettes, real ones or jean material, unwashed hair, and angry cause-blazing haters. my idea of politics is fairly simple: support with conviction, and don't criticize those who don't give you the time of day. people find their own way into communities. it's a passive principle, but that's what i believe. so today, o embittered students for "save darfur," you came up short. no signature for you.

for 2 days i have felt like i have a swollen golf ball settled in my collarbone. ginger tea? sleep? tara suggested a gargle with salt, but hopefully some strong ginger infusion will do the trick. "heroes" + dinner involving squash, garlic, mulled apple cider, and milano cookies. not necessarily in that order.

upcoming:
nov 5: interview with patti monson for research&writing class;
nov 6, 11: music of joel mandelbaum at queens college and hunter college under tito muñoz;
nov 8: handdrumming performance (suny-purchase);
nov 15: denisov sonata for flute and guitar (mvmts 1+2) with marc wolf at suny-purchase;
nov 28: berio's sequenza (orig.) for paula robison masterclass at diller-quaile in the city.

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Now playing: Fred Hersch - At The Close Of The Day (live)
via FoxyTunes

spacey

fall still doesn't feel right.

last night a group of us went to see charlie neidich play the brahms clarinet quintet with the juilliard string quartet near lincoln center. the concert was briefly interrupted for a false fire alarm (they restarted the shapey quintet, which was a little abstract and abstruse, even posthumously). also on the program was elliott carter's second string quartet. a great piece, but as nick gallas wisely interpreted, is too dense to really understand at first hearing. it takes a good study to approach it. i read him for fischer's class at the sorbonne, i'm quite enthusiastic about the way he conceptualizes music, but then somehow his music makes me come up empty.

the most impressive part of the performance was the instrument neidich played on. he had it modeled after mühfield's, the clarinetist brahms heard play in meiningen. he even had it cut from the same vintage wood. the idea was to best recreate the quintet sound brahms must have heard at the end of his life. amazing, actually. the juilliard quartet is a great vintage ensemble. i especially liked the second violinist.

we had our first brookshire midterm (blech), long and moderately painful. bridget, susan and i are going to see STOMP on broadway tonight, taking the train and transferring to union square. derek recommended a great indian restaurant nearby called raj mahal (the east village is his 'hood).

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Now playing: Missy Higgins - The River
via FoxyTunes

approaching...

friday: classes, second shift at rebecca's.

saturday: parents. my birthday. dinner. lucia di lammermoor at the met (not dessay). possibly the pepsico sculpture garden, or the bronx botanical gardens for some japanese chrysanthemums.

things seem joyless, grey around the edges. the change of weather, flipflopping crisp and warm, makes my bones creak. maybe fleeing the scene of this life is the solution. for now, i'll read more allende and the time-traveler's wife to steal me away from the earth.

i tried love in a time of cholera, but it didn't stick; of love and shadows on the other hand, was almost epic. i almost think what irene and francisco have doesn't exist in the real world. it's that much more beautiful on the page.

below: kiku, queen of Japanese flowers.

as of late

the concert went pretty well - good turnout, confused applause for the messiaen, coughs at the wrong times in the debussy. i think maestro dunkel was pleased.

recent reads: vanishing acts by jodi picoult, a tree grows in brooklyn by betty smith, the sea and the bells (poems) by pablo neruda.

from "ode to salt":

Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste infinitude.

i'm pumped to find, on iván's recommendation, chagall's autobiography, entitled (in english), my life. there's a copy at the purchase library!


i love the smell of old books. i caved and bought copies of the master and margarita by mikhail bulgakov (knowing my parents, they probably bought me a copy for my birthday), as well as naked lunch, william s. burrough's chef d'oeuvre, at the campus bookstore. i don't have the money to spare, but...somehow, it seemed right.

this week marks my first of rehearsal freedom - more time to learn daphnis and practice my quartertones for denisov.

first taste

and so it was, saturday dinner, my training day at rebecca's in greenwich, ct : boot camp for those virgin to the restaurant business. following ricardo from 5pm-2am. she sold out and sat eager diners at the counter. my favorite table thus far is the café table, tucked away in an intimate nook, out of sight of the rest of the guests.

i don't know if i'm cut out for this business. in fact, i have no idea. it will be a good training ground. well-oiled machine, that's for sure...i just hope that it doesn't take over my life. i can't work more than 3 nights/2 nights+lunch/week. it would wear me down.

alice very graciously went shopping with me in white plains to find white oxford shirts and khaki pants. i bought some cute black shoes (mistake). i didn't sit down once (or go to the bathroom) during my entire shift. i was on my feet the entire time. i have massive blisters from those new shoes and my legs are sore.

i sang a gig at a church in the city this morning as a favor to jp (research and writing teacher at purchase), which was a mistake. i should have just slept. my brain was too fried to rehearse with marc in the afternoon, so i took a day. played a little, burned myself with the iron trying to smooth out my new gap khakis, finished reading teacher man by frank mccourt (angela's ashes), still am in the middle of a tree grows in brooklyn, which, derek balcom was right, is a chick book. we have yet to think of an equivalent phrase to "chick flick" that applies to literature.

i saw ladysmith black mambazo perform at the PAC on friday, $5 student rush (nice). they have an exquisite sound that never really varies, velvety polyphony...they sang "homeless" and spoke a lot about peace and love as means of conflict resolution. the original guy who started the group 46 years ago still sings with them. i was so tired, i just closed my eyes and sank into the velvet.


purchase symphony orchestra's first concert is this weekend! friday night, 8pm, PAC. program: martin ballade (crystal zagarello, flute), le tombeau de couperin, debussy nocturnes and messaien oiseaux exotiques. should be sweet.

early morning blues

underslept and not yet paid, the heavy morning fog is setting a gloomy stage for a day of 3 job interviews, a haircut, and an evening in the city.

1. part-time waitstaff at rebecca's in greenwich, ct.
2. salesperson at chef central, hartsdale.
3. stockkeeping at triboro quilts, white plains.

haircut at eclipse A salon for hair, tarrytown.

evening with lisa & ed cohen at the joyce theater for funky fusion dance.

somewhere amongst all this i have to eat lunch at home and practice my new altès and jeanjean études, and patch boulez memoriale.

busy, à la paris or oberlin. hopefully my zippy little car and gps will serve me well today.