The heat is out.

The heat is out at the Nunnery again. This is the second time in two weeks, and it's been getting down to the mid-20's at night. Last night was cold and tonight looks to be even colder.

Tracie was over last night for a swell dinnerparty and a rough runthrough of dark side of the moon. Tracie is unfamiliar with the material, but she handled the steep learning curve well.

The first theme of the evening was recursion-induced insanity. The second theme of the evening was recursion-induced insanity. The third theme was good times.

The theme of recursion led to several recapitulations/re-enactments of the evening's activities. In fact, here's the map:

1. The evening's activities
2. Recapitulation I
3. Recapitulation II
4. The evening's activities re-enacted
5. Recapitulation I re-enacted
6. Recapitulation II re-enacted
7. Realization

~~~~~~~

Normally, Tracie would sit in an armless chair, being a violist. But the only other armless chair in the Nunnery was occupied by the pigeon who wants to stay up late.


Which was a little awkward...


because he wouldn't move, even after it became clear that Tracie really wanted to sit down.


He just kept sitting there, staring.


Staring...

The Wall: the liveblog, part II

we're back. atherton flux and Mr. phi came by during the break. they haven't left yet, so we're four now. which is fitting because we're about to listen to side four of the Wall. coincidence? i don't think so.

we open with harmonies courtesy of the new west coast boys americana glee club choir. but proto-metal promises nothing very cheerful.

what kind of world is this, where you can't even go see your favorite fascist stadium cock-rock riot-inciting band play without getting fucking harassed? this sucks. but the one with the spots deserved it. that guy was a douche.

shadow the cat is here, curled up with L on the windowseat. Mr. phi is talking very fast. atherton flux is pacing. i would like the record to hurry up and end so i can ask them to leave.

the strict militarism of run like hell is a breath of fresh air after all this limpwristed wussy music.

more harmonies, more square beats. these worms sound suspiciously like those pigs from animals. roger crescendos a shrill political rant.

side four is like a long duet between roger's voice and nick's kick drum, accompanied by dave and sometimes rick.

side one and two belong together in my mind, as though cut from the same cloth. side three is of a different cloth, and side four from a third. side four has the least music to my ear, though watching roger stretch is a ton of fun.

the emptiness of the recent tough-yet-boring songs is put on trial. the orchestra returns for the theatrics I recall being promised earlier.

the trial begins. men with canes and top hats dance; dave rolls his eyes.

the record climaxes with the judge's decision: Satan is his father, not guy! Tear down the wall!

omg, they're gonna do it. they're gonna tear down the - o shit. they blew it up.

L is imagining herr director in conversation with the demolition crew foreman. "yeah, that was okay, it was okay. it was sort of a 'blowing up' though. Not so much of a tearing down thing, which is what i think we're really going for here." and eventually "that's okay. no it's alright, we'll just... i'll just see if i can't get the chorus back in here to sing blow. up. the wall. aw, bloody hell."

but one way or another it's down, no doubt about that. woo hoo! the fucking wall is down! high five. yeah, wow. this is so cool. it feels like forever. omg. fucking awesome...

but wait. this is good right? we did want the wall to come down, didn't we? because, then why did that judge sound so angry earlier when he was talking about it? i don't really get that. maybe he's just an asshole.

a lemon squeezebox - the same one that begins side one - is here along with that woodwind instrument at the end of side four. isn't this where we came in?

the wall is down. we're free to go, at least for now. free to rebuild, and hopefully something that's not another wall. we need to be careful about that. i don't want to go through all this again, the strain on my system is too great, and i'm sure you don't too. right?

we've listened to four walls of madness, and we're done. the completion of a cycle puts one at peace.

so ends the transmission. Mr. phi has raided the fridge. atherton flux is sitting, staring. the cat left the room about twenty minutes ago (i could explain why, but it's complicated). L is moving forward to address our growing hunger. I'm writing to you.

join us next time when we liveblog our exclusive hang with king Friday. long live the king!

The Wall: the liveblog

As a cozy protest against a winter that won't end, and also against February in general, L and I are going to liveblog the hell out of the remaining half of the Wall. Let's meet our bloggers:

Sabitathica: hello.
L: lounging on the windowseat to my left.
Mr. Phi: will hopefully not make an appearance tonight.

Side Three, go.

arpeggiation, a liquid harpsichord, a bass solo. dave harmonizing with himself. Wagnerian death rock, omg. dave plays the bass solos. ringo gets a gold star.

can lorca ride? is there anybody a little out there?

Q: what's stranger than roger's voice?
A: roger's voice plus delay.

roger has amazing powers of observation. enter the Hendrix Perm Orchestra.

L questions why anyone would eat with a silver spoon anyway, by way of pointing out the arbitrariness of the assignment of monetary value. she's talking about mass hypnosis. she thinks value should be assigned according to a thing's beneficence (or otherwise) to the wellbeing of all living things. or maybe i'm not really understanding. she would rather eat with a stainless steel spork than a silver spoon anyday. silver is apparently dangerous for some reason. worse than lead paint, because you're less likely to ingest lead paint. she's accusing me of just typing and not listening to her. she's clearly beginning to lose her mind.

Vera is the saddest song roger ever sang, except for all the songs on the final cut. does anybody else in here want to be anybody else in here? what became of you Vera?

let us bring the boys back home and then we'll recapitulate.

a lifetime of lacksadaisy has been thrown. things don't look so good.

is anybody in there very out there? comfortably numb is the wall's emotional peak. the images, the guitar solo in the clouds. but the gorgeous orchestrations are nautical, so you may feel a little sick.

side three begins and ends with dave. roger operates the whirlpool in between.

So now you know. Let's take a break, come back, and listen to side four.

These are music auditions. The drama auditions are in another building...

I received a threatening email from an unstable prospective music student this afternoon. This prospective music student has failed his three previous auditions. He wants to be allowed to audition again this Monday, March 1st, but he applied three weeks after the deadline and unfortunately won't be able to. [This is not a big deal. Normally when this happens, the applicant accepts responsibility for missing the deadline and I try to arrange a special audition for them later in the semester. No loss. For whatever reason, this young man chose a different approach.] What follows is an excerpt from his aggressive email, the first contact (written or verbal) I've had with him.

[...] respond to this email within the next 24 hrs, if not I will re-send it to you. I will continue do so until March 5th which is a more than reasonable time for you to respond. If I do not receive any feedback between now and March 5th, I will have no choice but to seek action which includes filing a formal complaint with university, notifying my lawyer to seek possible legal action and notifying local news outlets to raise awareness of my situation as well as any other unjust actions that are being and/or have been committed against students in similar situations. Again, my goal is to seek a simple solution to this problem and avoid a big legal debacle or cause any kind unwanted trouble. We are all adults here I believe we can discuss this matter as such.

An avoider of trouble and seeker of simple solutions if ever I've met one. True, as long as trouble = "not getting what I want" and simple = "inappropriately forceful". I've been the target of a few crazy people before and it's not pleasant.

Allow me to interrupt all the music-writing to write a little something about music.

Current and ongoing musical projects:

* the winter series;
* Wanda has asked me to put music to a rather devastating new poem she has written. I'm a little behind the 8-ball on this one;
* Mark continues to write new songs and I continue to contextualize them. So far so good;
* L & I are learning to play the entirety of Dark Side of the Moon together and we're inviting friends to play along. Mark is learning it, and Tracie is scheduled for a good-times runthrough this weekend. And if Tim & Justin can ever stop playing ColecoVision long enough to visit their old music-prison warden, they'll be playing it too;
* And speaking of learning entire Pink Floyd records, I'm working up a good-times version of the most dismal awesome record ever made - The Final Cut - in case the Now Today Ensemble decides to adopt it as their "song" this year. Whatever this year's repertoire, it does seem as though the NTE is up for a challenge worthy of its epic potential. Long live the NTE!

The Wall : Intermission part III: things fall apart

A few days ago, five overhead lights went out at the Nunnery at once:

1. the kitchen
2. the lavatory
3. the sacistry/vestry
4. the nave
5. the calefactory/scriptorium

No sooner were the lights fixed than the heat went out. The heat has been something of an issue in the Nunnery these last two winters - a sign of something, to be sure.

The wall: intermission part II.b: snowfall

a front porch view of last night's snow:


the back porch, looking up


and this morning,


before breakfast...

the wall: intermission part II

As we embark upon the second half of intermission, let's pick ourselves up, dust the fleas from our bathrobe, cast our minds aback, and reflect on what we've pretended to learn so far:

Some years ago the band Pink Floyd made a record which historians nowadays usually refer to as "The Wall" and which is generally considered to be the greatest work of art of the second Millennium following the birth of Christ.

Most modern scientists agree that The Wall's majesty was surpassed only by the previous three records of the same band. Also, Dirty Mind by Prince.

~~~

You: Hey Sabitathica, let's play Who's Your Favourite Member of Pink Floyd?
Sabitathica: No, I'm busy. Plus let's not rush things. Also, some other people might not want to play.
You: So what? Who cares about them?
Sabitathica: I don't like them.
You: If they go away will you play Who's Your Favourite Member of Pink Floyd?
Sabitathica: No, that's stupid. They're all equally brilliant. Except for Roger, who was more equally brilliant than the other three.
You: That doesn't make any --
Sabitathica: Okay I'll play. Let's meet our contestants.

~~~~~~~

name: Grumpy Floyd
instrument: bass/voice
aliases: the difficult one; he who was trained not to spit at the fan but did so anyway; what an asshole; "yes sir".

~~~

name: Pretty Boy Floyd
instrument: guitar/voice
aliases: Pretty in Pink; dreamy Dave; the shallow one; fish sticks.

~~~

name: Niceguy Floyd
instrument: keyboard instruments/voice
aliases: the gloopy one; the dead one; the one who got sacked, the one who was overlooked.

~~~

name: Ringo Floyd
instrument: percussives
aliases: Pink; Pinky; Pinko; Pinkles; Mr. Pink; His Pale-Red Highness; hey you.

Cat power

The University closed at noon. We were able to hear everyone, just about. What a week.

My parents' anniversary tomorrow, Valentine's Day Sunday.

weather

Auditions tomorrow, which I've been working on for weeks. But the weatherman says there's a snowstorm coming tomorrow. Maybe 1-3 inches, which is unusual. The natives are nervous.

It's possible the University may close. I'd rather it didn't. It's been a tense few days and it's not over yet.

The Sabitathiblog 2010 pledge drive

PETA in its wisdom has called the subjection of Punxsutawney Phil to large crowds and flash photography "inhumane". They suggest replacing Phil with an electronic groundhog.

But as founder and Chief Public Relations Officer for PETR (People for the Ethical Treatment of Robots), I disagree. PETA must be held accountable for their reprehensible record of repeatedly and brazenly favoring carbon over silicon.

Stop the madness.
Save the robots.
Donate to Sabitathiblog.

We're all robots at heart!