Happy holidays

Happy holidays...


... from the modern couple.

Repent

I was in synthetic attendance at a social gathering 1000 miles away on Saturday night. The event was a celebration of the twentieth anniversary of the filming of Extensions V. Those who say the good times were lean are our enemy and vengeance to the full shall be meted out upon them.

Proof:

There's a strong streak of good in you, Superman. But then nobody's perfect...

I bought the first four Superman movies for $10.00. We're watching them in order and are halfway through Superman II now. Some observations:

* It's strange to see Brando unimpressive.


* I guess I need someone to explain to me how a fragment of Superman's home planet can kill him when he gets close to it.
* I can believe reversing Earth's rotation would affect many things - I'm picturing tsunamis, earthquakes, lots of general mayhem and every living thing destroyed - but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't make time go backwards. But then, I'm not a science doctor.
* Christopher Reeve's easy likableness shines through everything he does. Margot Kidder, less so.
* I forgot Mario Puzo wrote I and II. I hadn't realized "General Zod" was Terence Stamp. Whoa...


* Every copy of Lois Lane's "can you read my mind?" scene should have been destroyed before it was unleashed upon an innocent and unsuspecting world.
* The claim "I never lie" is a stretch for anyone who maintains a secret identity.

~~~~~~~

November, the most personally difficult month I've had in at least a year, and probably closer to two, is almost over.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was delightful. My first year, at forty, of not following someone else's tradition, but setting my own. Champagne (pictured), turkey, cornbread stuffing, gravy, sweetened carrots, sweet potatoes (which were yammy), cornbread, and apple pie à la mode for dessert.

To my surprise, the drink of the season is turning out to be eggnog with Frangelico.

first fire of the season...

Stockings, hung with care:


Firestarter:

The Moon is a harsh mistress.

Dinnerparty with Tracie Friday night. A potluck affair, Tracie brought the main course - chicken in white wine. L prepared the supporting dishes. There was astronaut ice-cream for dessert.

~~~~~~~

Post-dinner music, improvised and beautiful:

Tracie: viola
L: flute
Sabitathica: guitar

~~~~~~~

Much dinnertable discussion about the recently announced discovery of water on the Moon. There appear to be two main reactions to this news:

1. water on the Moon means there's probably life on the Moon!
2. water on the Moon will make it easier for humans to live on the Moon!

My responses:

1. No, there's no intrinsic relationship between life and water. Sure, they're connected here, on Earth, a planet who's surface is mostly water. But only a very sorry scientist would universalize this local connection to suggest life requires water.
2. No, humans will live on the Moon whether there's water there or not. In fact, assuming we don't all kill each other first, it's inevitable.

Hey, I love stories about space - I really do. I get goosebumps every time some amateur astronomer names a new comet. If somebody discovers a planet, I go out for a drink to celebrate. I can recite every line from Star Wars by heart. I would love to get excited about water on the Moon, but sadly it doesn't mean anything. It's a chemical compound, that's all. A non-event. These aren't the 'droids you're looking for. Move along. Move along.

Autumn in Candler Park II

The Candler Park bike path in high autumn:

~~~~~~~

Recorded the voice for a new piece: Bring me the Head of Vlindinhauer Haverhast. Coming this autumn from Saint in Shadow Records.

Autumn in Candler Park I

The beauty of Candler Park:

~~~~~~~

It's been warm here. Saturday and Sunday I had to use my car's a/c.

Dinner with L's father Sunday night.

The Amnemonic Chiropractor gave me a knew pair of knees. The pain went away for a few days, but it's back now.

In the beginning...

It all began with an IM between and myself and Number 6:

2:19 PM Number 6: ...and when you lose control...

you'll reap the harvest you have sown...

and as the fear grows...

the bad blood slows and turns to stone.................

2:20 PM me: go away.

2:21 PM

Number 6: I'm reinstalling windows small business server.

2:22 PM me: I don't care.
do i need the snow leopard update?

Number 6: I dunno, I haven't fucked with it yet.

I hear it does speed shit up.

me: leave me alone.

2:24 PM

Number 6: it's actually a sort of mega-update to Leopard more than a total rewrite of the OS. I think.

me: yeah, i read that.
What Is and What Should Never Be is playing, btw.
2:25 PMloud...

Number 6: Way up high in the sky...

me: Nice.
now stop bothering me.

2:26 PM Number 6: Isn't there a gong towards the end...? As Plant is rapping: "and the wind wont blow and I really shouldnt go and it only goes to show..."

Maybe that's not what he says...
me: I don't care.
go away.

2:27 PM Number 6: I should rap that...

me: yes please.

Number 6: It would be funny to rap it.

2:28 PM me: No, it wouldn't. But you should do it anyway.
If i send you some music can you rap that over it?

Number 6: Yeah, sure... do it!

me: okay, but this music'll be completely unlike what The Zeppelin are playing under those words.

2:29 PM it'll sound more like what's been on the blog recently.

Number 6: yeah, I like what you did with Welcome to the Machine... that was pretty screwed up.

2:30 PM It was too short though...

me: yeah, we did that in like an hour.

if it was too short, press repeat, idiot.

Number 6: wow, an hour...? It would take me two months to do that!

ha

me: leave me alone.

And here were are.

I sent Number Six the beautiful piece below, Autumn 4. The project gradually evolved, and he ended up singing words of his own composition. The finished product will appear in this space soon.

~~~~~~~

Sabitathica: autumn 4

Solioonensius

There have been several strange instances over the past week wherein colleagues have attempted, at length and with great passion, to engage me in arguments while seemingly unaware that their own position is untenable.

One example (of several) from today:

A man I've worked with for several years walks into my office and begins by asking my advice on a new applicant to music-prison. According to my colleague, the applicant is a transfer student, and wants to begin his college career anew, beginning from the beginning, and taking all of his coursework over again.

My colleague is being circuitous from the get-go, and it takes him a few minutes to finally tell me that the applicant intends to lie on his application, by claiming he's never attended college before. Actually, he doesn't tell me - based on what clues I can gather from his odd behavior, I have to guess.

After this - the real reason he came to see me in the first place - is revealed, he begins to argue that:
1. there's nothing wrong with an applicant lying on an application; and
2. nobody will find out anyway.

But of course these two lines of reasoning don't go together.

Here's how it goes:

Sabitathica: You're doing him a disservice by advising him to do this.
Colleague (aggressive): Oh yeah? Who's gonna know? What, are they gonna call all the colleges and universities in the whole country and ask if they've ever had a student by this guy's name?
Sabitathica: That's ridiculous.
Colleague: Exactly - so no one will ever find out!
Sabitathica: This is a mistake.
Colleague: Why?
Sabitathica (pause): Why would he lie?
Colleague: He's not lying.
Sabitathica (pause): I don't know what you mean by that.
Colleague (voice rising): Look, if he was claiming to have taken more classes than he really had, that would be lying. But he's not. He's claiming to have taken less classes! So it's not lying!
Sabitathica: It's lying either way.
Colleague (heated now): Why would anybody care? It's not like he's trying to get away with something!
Sabitathica: Of course he is.
Colleague: No, he's not!
Sabitathica: Look, you asked my advice. I'm giving it to you. This is a mistake and you should absolutely not advise him to do this.
Colleague (shouting now): What's the big deal? Who would know? Who would even care?
Sabitathica: You should care.
Colleague: I should care? Why? Why should I care?
Sabitathica: Because if he was expelled from his last school due to a disciplinary issue, that will appear on his transcript. The university would need to be aware of that. And the same goes if he was dismissed for academic reasons.
Colleague: But he just wants to take all his coursework again! What's the matter with him wanting to do that?

There was more of this, in much the same vein, until we were interrupted by another (angry) colleague of mine, who at that moment stormed into my office, made a quipy, petulant remark, and then stormed out again.

Like I said, this nonsense has been happening a lot over the past week.

Topicless and snubbed...

In my most commonly recurring dream I'm back at Hampshire, trying to finish my Division III. Under normal circumstances, a Division III takes about a year to complete, but in these dreams mine is due in a week and I haven't even chosen a topic yet.

I recently had this dream again - in fact it was the night following the "horrific, violent" dream we spoke about recently. But things were different this time around. Normally in this dream Hampshire itself is sunny and beautiful, and I'm very happy to be back there. This time it was different: overpopulated and over-commercialized, and the people were all bumping into me and snubbing me and going out of their way to make me feel unwelcome.

I went to the office of my old college advisor but he wasn't in. Instead, his office was overpopulated with students who snubbed me and went out of their way to make me feel uncomfortable.

~~~~~~~

In more cheerful news, I'm working with Number Six on a long-distance musical project. More on this later.

Auditions and monsters

Auditions went well on Friday. Which surprised me a little, since the Rialto had a grotesque art installment which was, in the last analysis, a thinly disguised form of demon-worship. See for yourself:


These things were all over the lobby, hexing innocent auditionees with all manner of evil enchantments. What other explanation could there possibly be for something as hideous as this:


I don't know what it is and I don't care. It's creepy and it needs to go away and leave me alone. Can someone explain to me why this sort of witchery is even remotely acceptable in the 21st Century?

And the strangest part? No one said a thing. No screams, no fainting, no hysteria. I began to wonder if I was the only person who could see these horrid beings. But you can see them, can't you?


For instance, this incredible creature was hovering over the string trio as they played. Hovering! Look at her! Like the Ghost of Halloween Future. And no one said a word.

~~~~~~~

And since we're talking about fucked up devil-monsters, I may as well tell you that we saw this eyesore outside the Crimson Moon Café on our way back from Blood Mountain: A hollow metal guitarist waiting for some devil to tune his strings and and breathe life into him. Robert Johnson meets metal Pinocchio.


And what guitarist hasn't felt this way? Brainless head, lifeless fingers, and playing an instrument such a creature deserves.

Rain

Horrific, violent dream last night. I won't describe the plot (which was elaborate and surreal) or dwell on the style (which was vivid and claustrophobic) since this is a family show, but believe you me, it was fucking awful.

I woke L up and told her all about it, because who doesn't want to hear an intricate, shockingly bloody tale of mass murder in the middle of the night?

I don't know how long it took her to fall back asleep after listening to her boyfriend go on for ten minutes about murdering everyone in sight, but it took me at least an hour. She seemed to think the dream was caused by my having watched It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before bed. I have no proof that it wasn't.

Lying awake, it somehow seemed like a good idea to read a short story narrated by a man who wakes up to find himself undergoing an autopsy. He'd been bitten by a rare and poisonous snake, and was still alive and alert (though paralyzed) and medical incompetence had pronounced him dead. This story was not written by the damned and bedeviled Edgar Allan Poe, though it could have been.

Autumn rocks.

~~~~~~~

In more cheerful news, a google search for an all-black Christmas tree has produced some promising leads.

It's raining here (thanks to Tropical Storm Ida) and I'm listening to Etta James sing Stormy Weather.

Google wave

A recent adjustment to my morning sitting has aggravated an injury I sustained on the canal in France when I rammed my left knee full-force into a stanchion. Awesome. It hurt like bloody hell when I first did it, and I even thought I might have cracked my kneecap. Doubtful, since the pain was gone after a few days, but it's back now, and I've been walking with a slight limp for about a week.

~~~~~~~

In more cheerful news, I now have Google Wave, which is currently invite-only and still in beta. Google Wave makes regular email look like a company of monastic scribes copying liturgical documents by candlelight. If you don't know what it is, here's a long video which gives a good overview. If you have the patience to watch the whole thing, and if you care about creativity and communication, it will blow your mind. Seriously.

Once you get invited to use Google Wave, you have to wait for a while before you're allowed to invite other people. I don't have any invites to give out yet, but I will soon enough. Let me know if you want one.

Please submit a haiku about Google Wave to Sabitathiblog@gmail.com and I'll see what I can do.

Life in music-prison

Auditions are Friday, so music-prison is keeping me busy these days.

I've secured a string trio of double bass, cello, and viola to perform first thing in the morning, which I'm looking forward to.

And in my spare time I enjoy lite-jazz, piña coladas, and long walks on the beach.

Actually I don't, but I did enjoy some early Twilight Zone episodes last week. I got to see the first episode I ever saw, back when I was eleven or so, "It's a Good Life," which is the one about the six-year old boy with the ability to read minds, turn people into Jacks-in-the-box, and "wish them into the cornfield". Terrifying. It also somehow reminds me of a woman I once dated...

Anyway, the University is offering fewer classes from now on because of the great green global financial meltdown. So some music-convicts are unable to take the classes they need to graduate, which causes them to feel frustrated, and sometimes they foam at the mouth and their arms fall off.

And sometimes they call me on my cellphone "because they don't know my office number". You know who you are. Which mostly I don't mind really, except when they're foaming at the mouth and it becomes hard to understand what they're saying.

~~~~~~~

This installment of the Sabitathiblog has been brought to you with gracious blessings from the strange and glorious King Friday XIII, who nobody should even think of wishing away to the cornfield.

All hail King Friday!

megaphonium fanfare

I had some sleigh bells. L had a comb. Here's what happened.

~~~~~~~

Sabitathica: song for a comb

the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs ...

Sabitathica: All rise.

~~~~~~~

Sabitathica: Autumn 5

Sabitathica: Be seated.

Blood Mountain: the leaving

All grim things must come to an end. And so we left Blood Mountain, alive... for now.

Driving back, the mountain roads were chilly in their crisp autumnal decay.


We stopped at several scenic sites where L demanded that I photograph her...


... and then set off south again. This is what the trees look like as you drive by, gnarled and scheming, patiently crafting their Machiavellian deceits:


The road south to Bedlam:

Blood Mountain DCLXVI

Woke early again.

Still alive.

Last night after dinner (L made a lasagna, there was wine) we watched Zodiac, in part because it's about a serial killer, but also because it's the only movie I have on my laptop.

The fog and rain have gone. It's a beautiful day. More french toast for breakfast. Yesterday's gunshot seems like years ago. All is forgiven.