Somehow, Cleveland has survived, with her gray banner unfurled -- the banner of Archangelsk and Detroit, of Kharkov and Liverpool -- the banner of men and women who would settle the most ignominious parts of the earth, and there, with the hubris born neither of faith nor ideology but biology and longing, bring into the world their whimpering replacements.
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READIN
READIN started out as a place for me
to keep track of what I am reading, and to learn (slowly, slowly)
how to design a web site.
There has been some mission drift
here and there, but in general that's still what it is. Some of
the main things I write about here are
reading books,
listening to (and playing) music, and
watching the movies. Also I write about the
work I do with my hands and with my head; and of course about bringing up Sylvia.
The site is a bit of a work in progress. New features will come on-line now and then; and you will occasionally get error messages in place of the blog, for the forseeable future. Cut me some slack, I'm just doing it for fun! And if you see an error message you think I should know about, please drop me a line. READIN source code is PHP and CSS, and available on request, in case you want to see how it works.
See my reading list for what I'm interested in this year.
READIN has been visited approximately 236,737 times since October, 2007.
It is プãƒã®è·äººã«ã‚ˆã‚‹ã‚¢ã‚¤ãƒãƒ³ãŒã‘テクニック(ワイシャツ) , for which Google Translate gives "Professional techniques by skilled craftsmen: ironing (shirts)" -- I can only hope this title implies it is part of a series.**
*(While researching the title for this post I found a very intriguing paper by Yamada ShÅji, The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery, which I am thinking I will spend the rest of the evening reading.)
This is the sketched-out notation of a melody I was working on the other night. (The focus is not right, I can't seem to take a picture of the page in focus; not sure why. The unreadable text is "slow walking tempo" and "(let ring)" -- the â…¤-shaped symbol above the staff I think means to stress the marked note; in any case this is my intent where I've marked that symbol.) An interesting aspect of writing this out was trying to justify writing it out, trying to explain to myself why it's not a waste of time, what's useful about it...
Writing the melody out ends up being useful to me as a way to let myself improvise -- my favorite thing to do when I'm practicing is to take a short melody and repeat it with variations. I had been trying recently to improvise the melodies "from scratch" but the problem I run into is not being able to keep them in mind long enough that the structure of the melody repeats among variations.
While I was thinking about this I got a message from Vance Maverick that he had written out a transcription of the recording which I'd posted on YouTube. (The images of my and Vance's output are linked to the YouTube video.) The recording is my eight bars repeated three times with variations, plus a measure of intro and one of outro. Vance's transcription is the full 26 bars. This is fun: he has transcribed what is in many ways a completely different song than what I wrote out -- what is certainly a more readable, more accurate representation than mine of what's on the tape -- but which I would have a hard time using to produce what's on the tape.
There is a metric rule we both followed, which makes the notes on the page different from "what's on the tape" -- we both represented metrical values as eighth-notes throughout the song regardless of whether or not they're swung. And as Vance points out neither of us writes out the double-stops -- I think of these as a form of improvisation on top of the written melody -- or is precise about writing out the occasional flat fingering that slides up.
I'm fascinated and impressed by the notion of being able idly to jot down the melody one is listening to -- I am not at all fluent in musical notation, producing it is for me a very clumsy, mechanical process. I'd love to get better at it.
Further progress in improving the look of our dining room: Ellen found a great deal on reupholstering the chairs, from the McGowen Fabric Outlet in Elizabeth. Very reasonable price and excellent work, though perhaps lacking in customer service relations -- at about 5 this afternoon Ellen answers the ringing phone, listens for a minute, says "Jeremy, we have a situation" -- the chairs are finished and the fabric outlet manager wants them picked up right away so he does not have to hold them overnight. So me and John quit practicing and took a road trip to Elizabeth.
I find the sheer extent of the urban area around here disconcerting. I often don't notice it because I will get on the highway to drive any significant distance; but the city, the neighborhoods, keep going beneath the highway in between the exits. There isn't much of any way to get to Elizabeth by highway -- it is just surface street after surface street, and you never lose the impression of being in the city.
The chairs are probably nearly as old as I am -- they and the table are Ellen's parents' old dining-room set. The old leather upholstery on them was looking really bad; the new fabric is utterly transformative.
The genius of Rivera Letelier's Art of Resurrection does not lie in the writing of the plot or the character development. There are events narrated that in aggregate form a plot, to be sure, and it's not (with sufficient suspension of disbelief) a bad plot, but not (by itself) a masterpiece either. The characters are pretty static (except for the two main characters -- and in their cases "development" consists largely of flashbacks sketching out their life stories, more to give context to the narrated events than as part of the main story) -- indeed one could say that in the narrated moment, the characters are almost wooden.
But somehow this does not work out to be a criticism of the book: it is precisely this almost-wooden quality where the æsthetic greatness of the work can be found. Rivera Letelier's calmly focused lens can zoom in onto his characters frozen in the moment of his story like bugs in amber* and communicate to the reader their rich complexities.
Update: It occurs to me that this quality of woodenness and of masterful exploitation of it, is something the book has in common with Buñuel's Simon of the desert, the movie from which its cover illustration is taken.)
So far this winter, we've had a big snow-storm at the end of December and a much smaller snow-storm this week. The snow is icy on the ground now, a cold white blanket for the yards and parks of South Orange.
I've been listening this week to Crooked Still's record Shaken by a Low Sound. Just magnificent, jazzy bluegrass, a nice mix of tradition with innovation -- if you haven't heard them before you ought to take a few minutes right now and listen to some of their music that's on YouTube, and then buy some of their records. Here's one of my favorites, their "Railroad Bill":
While I was listening to "Railroad Bill" I found myself singing lines from a couple of other songs -- "Bob Dylan's Blues" and "99 Year Blues" both share chord structure and melody with this song. I got interested in blues stock phrases: compare the lines from "99 Year Blues", "Get me a pistol, 3 round balls/ Gonna shoot everybody I don't like at all" with "I'll find me a pistol as long as my arm/ Gonna kill everybody's ever done me harm" in this song. I was recently reading John Jeremiah Sullivan's article Unknown Bards: the blues becomes transparent about itself, which contains some interesting observation about variations in stock phrases in blues (and which is highly recommended reading for those of you with an interest in American music).
In the same vein, I'm having a good time tracing common threads of chord structure in blues and folk music. Crooked Still covers Robert Johnson's "Come on in my kitchen", which has the structure and melody of "Sitting on top of the world" and a couple of other blues tunes; and a lot of the songs I've been listening to lately (probably including some of Crooked Still's, though I could not swear to it) are variations on the They're Red Hot structure, including Two Man Gentlemen Band's hilarious "Me, I get high on reefer".
While I was browsing around YouTube for some takes on "Railroad Bill", I was reminded what's one of my favorite features of YouTube, which is the great number of amateur musicians who upload home videos of songs they are working on. Me and John have started doing a bit of this lately, though our skills are not nearly on the level of a lot of these. Check out RivrRidr902 performing a medley of "Railroad Bill", "Freight Train", and "Make Me a Pallet on Your Floor":
I went to the Rent Party show at the South Orange Elks Club last night and was overjoyed to hear the 4th Street Nite Owls playing hot jazz, with my sometimes partner in crime Jerry sitting in on bass. Hoping to hear a lot more of them in the future.
We should be civil because we want to live up to the example of public servants like John Roll and Gabby Giffords, who knew first and foremost that we are all Americans, and that we can question each other's ideas without questioning each other's love of country and that our task, working together, is to constantly widen the circle of our concern so that we bequeath the American Dream to future generations.
They believed - they believed, and I believe that we can be better. Those who died here, those who saved life here - they help me believe. We may not be able to stop all evil in the world, but I know that how we treat one another, that's entirely up to us.
And I believe that for all our imperfections, we are full of decency and goodness, and that the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us.
That's what I believe, in part because that's what a child like Christina Taylor Green believed.
Imagine - imagine for a moment, here was a young girl who was just becoming aware of our democracy; just beginning to understand the obligations of citizenship; just starting to glimpse the fact that some day she, too, might play a part in shaping her nation's future. She had been elected to her student council. She saw public service as something exciting and hopeful. She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted.
I want to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as Christina imagined it. I want America to be as good as she imagined it. All of us - we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children's expectations.
posted morning of January 13th, 2011: Respond ➳ More posts about Politics
And there, costumated as a monochromatic rarebear, Stood the food-penguin, lemon-faced as ever.
The duo partook in a pair of pink fluff-puffs;
Destiny masticated her sugar-stick saxifragously,
Leaving Morgan haberdashed.
Sort of like "Happy the Golden Prince" maybe? Dramatically different from the every-day at any rate.
posted evening of January 12th, 2011: Respond ➳ More posts about Music
David Bonta (blogger at Via Negativa) has published a book of Odes to Tools with Phœnecia Publishing -- some beautiful thoughts about the things we use.
Ode to a Socket Wrench
Better than all power tools Is the socket wrench:
Its accomodating nature Its chrome-plated steel Its handling of torque.
Kristin Berkey-Abbott reviews the collection today.
posted morning of January 8th, 2011: Respond ➳ More posts about Readings
In today's San FranÂcisco Bay GuarÂdian, Tim Redmond eulogizes John Ross, who died this week of cancer in Mexico City, El Monstruo. (Thanks for the link, CK!)
The genius of Rivera Letelier's Art of Resurrection does not lie in the writing of the plot or the character development. There are events narrated that in aggregate form a plot, to be sure, and it's not (with sufficient suspension of disbelief) a bad plot, but not (by itself) a masterpiece either. The characters are pretty static (except for the two main characters -- and in their cases "development" consists largely of flashbacks sketching out their life stories, more to give context to the narrated events than as part of the main story) -- indeed one could say that in the narrated moment, the characters are almost wooden.
A long post below the fold, a bunch of disparate thoughts about music and links to music that seem like they should be in a post together:
Sort of like "Happy the Golden Prince" maybe? Dramatically different from the every-day at any rate.
