Category: Creativity

Creating something every day for 365 days

Concert (Day 301/365)

Posted on by Dale

Tonight was the Masterworks Chorale concert, so that’s my creativity for the day.

We sang An Evening with Rodgers & Hammerstein, a packaged thing from the R&H conglomerate. Great tunes, for the most part, and some very interesting, lush harmonies. I was very intrigued by their “waywardness” in harmonizing what I remembered as very simple melodies. Of course, this may not have been Rodgers’ original scoring but some later hired hand’s work. Nevertheless, it was instructive.

One way in which it was instructive was that it brought to mind the comments of some “real” musician who had graciously agreed to look over one of the movements of my Mass in C, many years ago. There was one passage in particular that he furrowed his eyebrows over and made some comment about my having gone from one key to another in five or six consecutive measures.

My only possible reply at the time was, “That’s what I heard.” That is, of course, the correct answer to any such sniffing. But I might just as well have said, “It’s something I picked up from studying Richard Rodgers.” That might not have reduced the sniffing in the least, but at least it would have clued me in on exactly what direction the snobbery was coming from.

Still in limbo (Day 300/365)

Posted on by Dale

You would think that on this day I would have made an effort to create something, but I’m still in that shutting-down-school mode, only with a Promethean board to play with, only it won’t respond to the laptop’s Bluetooth. And I still have to manage the county’s elementary school MARC records conversion with Follett.

And at some point I have to start getting into getting-ready-for-GHP mode, which I haven’t yet, and I leave on Monday.

And my van was in the shop, ostensibly to get a couple of lights replaced but eventually having brake work done on front and back, and postponing the “seepages” around the manifold intake until I get back. That took until 5:30.

So did I get any actual creative work done? Nope.

It’s a Monday, only on Tuesday (Day 299/365)

Posted on by Dale

[The blog has been down for two days, so this is late.]

We had dress rehearsal with Masterworks Chorale tonight, so that has to count as my creativity.

In other news, after three appointments and one session of uncomfortable tests, the neurologist Dr. Ni (no, I’m not making that up) has confirmed what I originally proposed to Dr. Smith two weeks ago: mild carpal tunnel. He wanted to do an MRI to make sure it wasn’t a stroke, but I suggested that unless I could walk out of that patient room and lie down in the machine at that very moment (“It only takes 30 minutes”) he would not be able to accommodate my schedule, especially since at each appointment I had had to wait for an hour. He had to settle for a CT scan, which was more or less my driving to PAPP clinic downtown and walking into the lab and lying down.

Pain (Day 298/365)

Posted on by Dale

A holiday. In this case, it means that I had a full day to clean house and to tackle the grinding noise of the new elliptical.

I had hoped that when we inserted batteries into the console, which thanks to the designers involves inserting D cell batteries up into the bottom of the console, that suddenly the magical magnets which create the resistance that will eventually turn my stomach flat and my chest into pure brawn, that those magnets would release their grip on the flywheel and we’d have no more grinding noise.

And of course that’s exactly what did not happen. By this time, I had vacuumed the house, and I had become aware that my lower back was not functioning. Probably something to do with all the bending over that goes along with assembling an elliptical on a previous occasion. Probably nothing to do with the mysterious numbness in my right arm spreading to my spine because it’s a dread disease that not even the estimable Dr. Ni suspects. Yet.

So now I was faced with kneeling, leaning, dismantling the heaviest bits of the machine, all with a lower back that refused to do anything but want to remain stationary. Not. A. Problem. I grabbed a footstool from one of the many pieces of furniture that for some reason have migrated to our basement from one or other in-law’s household (“It belonged to the Aunts” is the usual reason it is not sitting at Goodwill instead) and sat to my task.

After removing the hubcap, the pedal, and the flywheel cover, the problem was clear: the stanchion holding the flywheel was ever so slightly not upright. Bent, if you will. If I pushed against it with my foot, and somehow turned the wheel, the noise was gone.

So clearly what I needed to do was to provide enough pressure to bend a steel stanchion an eighth of an inch away from me without breaking anything it was attached to. With a nonfunctional lower back. Not. A. Problem.

I must confess that I also gave it a whack with a hammer. This was probably not a good idea, and I hope that in the future I am not startled by the entire flywheel assembly flying apart as I, buff and joyous, am charging along the path of most resistance.

But, hey, it worked. It whirs along with no noise at all now, other than the odd beeps from the console trying to give me information about something or other. If only my lower back were functioning; I might start getting buff.

Grumbling (Day 297/365)

Posted on by Dale

The saga continues.

Having left the elliptical machine in the back of my van overnight, I considered myself rested and completely up to the task of getting it out and hooking up the two or three main pieces of this thing. Ginny was going to go shopping for clothes, and I was going to get this thing together, maybe give it a whirl, and then spend some time actually taking a whack at a song or two for Moonlight.

Two or three main pieces: that’s what our very nice salesperson at Sports Authority, coincidentally named Dale, suggested we might find in the box. He was completely wrong.

There were a hundred pieces. The damned thing had to be completely assembled. Ginny apologized, then went shopping.

Understand that assembly holds no terror for me. My mechanical aptitude is higher than you might think, and the instructions were actually very clear, with life-size pictures of the screws and bolts, the most helpful thing ever. In fact, all the hardware came in a little egg-crate package, along with a piece of paper which told me exactly what was in which little compartment. Very nice.

All in all, it wasn’t bad. I did it outside so I could work in bright light and fresh air (rather than the dark corner where it will live, next to the litter box), and other than one tiny over-tightened bolt at the very end which prevented me from going back and putting on the pretty plastic piece which was supposed to be under that bolt, everything fit exactly as it should on a piece of precision equipment.

Still, it was four and a half hours of my time, time I had not intended to spend getting a piece of exercise equipment together. So you may imagine my feelings when I stepped on it and was greeted by a truly horrific grinding noise coming from the flywheel inside the plastic casing (the one part of the thing that came pre-assembled.)

I took a shower and made a vodka and tonic. Tomorrow is another day.

Shopping (Day 296/365)

Posted on by Dale

Today was an all-day shopping spree. We did it for my grandmother.

Some background: when we were married 29 years ago, my grandmother in her wisdom gave us the money to buy a washer and dryer. These were the first of the appliances that have saved our marriage. Without them, we would have had to do the whole laundromat thing, and I don’t think either of our temperaments would have permitted our relationship to survive the constant planning of when we could go, finding quarters, lugging laundry to and fro, and then the awful tedium and Darwinian atmosphere of the laundromat!

As I said, these were the first. Others have included a refrigerator with an icemaker, a dishwasher, a microwave, a new microwave, a VCR, an even newer microwave/convection oven combo. When one sublimates one’s agressions and frustrations into innocent machines, it’s best to have them aplenty, and in working order.

My grandmother died last year, age 99, and not a sentient molecule in her head, bless her. Recently my mother, who was her executor, finally cleared everything out of the estate. My share of the inheritance was enough to start thinking about replacing some appliances.

Our refrigerator’s icemaker finally gave up the ghost a few months ago. Personally, I like the ice trays and the cubes they make, but others in the house do not. I think inertia could have kept us from moving on this one, but the interior shell in the freezer is cracked. That can’t be good, can it?

The oven, on the other hand, is just not working. Ginny has complained for years that it won’t bake like it’s supposed to, but I have always poohpoohed that. It baked my stuff just fine. But again, a couple of months ago, it really just stopped altogether. It will put out heat, but it doesn’t put out the right amount of heat. I’ve been using it as a platewarmer and doing all my baking in the microwave/convection oven.

The tipping point for the oven, like the refrigerator’s cracked case, was the fact that recently while I’ve been warming plates, the oven will occasionally go “WHOOMPH” and the door will burp open. I’m thinking this is probably not a good thing.

So, in honor of my grandmother, we set out to find replacements. Mirabile dictu, we found both at Sears, first stop of the day. Great deal on the refrigerator, although I’m still unconvinced that I will like the bottom freezer, and it makes those damnable half-moon ice chunks. We splurged on the stove, springing for a gas range (which is my preference for cooking, and since I do the cooking, my preference is the standard) and a convection oven. Both will be delivered and installed next Friday. My one day off before having to pack and head to Valdosta.

Rather than savor our triumph, however, we pressed on in search of a sofa and some porch furniture. We found neither. But in looking for a nonexistent patio furniture store in Fayetteville, we somehow ended up with an elliptical exercise machine in the back of my van. Ginny likes these machines, and she is convinced that if we have one in our basement, then I will be more likely to exercise and avoid dropping dead before 60, as is the wont of the men in my family.

That was it. That was all the shopping I could stand, so home we came. Fixed a nice supper, and then we watched Borat, an appalling work of genius.

Nothing, really (Day 295/365)

Posted on by Dale

Last day of school, and on top of that I had a doctor’s appointment, continuing circulation database woes, and the installation of my Promethean board. I got one or two more ideas jotted down for Thurgood’s song (and emailed Mike a suggestion for a gag in the first scene), but other than that, I didn’t really create.

We went to see Shrek the Third. Lots of good will, but it didn’t really click. Unless they can come up with a really rousing plot, they ought to retire the franchise.

70 days to go.

Nothing (Day 294/365)

Posted on by Dale

Today was my niece Hayley’s high school graduation, so the entire evening was spent crammed into the bleachers at the stadium. I tried to jot down some of the unusual ladies Thurgood might sing about, but it’s hard to write down things like “three breasts” when people are curious as to what one might be writing down in one’s little black book.

71 days to go.

Moonlight (Day 293/365)

Posted on by Dale

Minimal creativity today, but it may be significant.

You may recall that one of the songs in Act II of Day in the Moonlight is a novelty song for Thurgood (the Groucho character), along the lines of “Lydia the Tattooed Lady.” Another novelty song from the same era, “Egyptian Ella,” has much the same flavor (see here for lyrics and here for a sound file) and it is one of my favorite songs.

I had suggested to Mike that he come up with some kind of bizarre female for Thurgood to sing about. However, it has not escaped my notice that singing amusing songs about fat girls might be a little, what, insensitive?

What to do, what to do?

And then this morning, the answer came to me, unbidden but clear: Thurgood can sing about any number of ladies with unusual features, as long as he sings about how he would never, ever sing about ladies with unusual features.

Piece of cake.

Copyright (Day 292/365)

Posted on by Dale

The other day I got an invitation to submit something to the “Outside the Bachs” competition, administered by composer Mark Burrows for the Choral Union of the First United Methodist Church in Forth Worth. This is not as big a deal as it sounds. As a member of the American Composers Forum, I often get notices of competitions like this. Last year, I submitted something (I’ve already forgotten what), so now I’m on their mailing list.

Still, if I can, I’ll come up with something. It has to be SATB, piano or organ accompaniment, sacred text, not necessarily Christian. My problem is that I have to find a text.

In the middle of the night last night, as I lay awake for one reason or another, I thought about this:

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, sí nef aearon!

O Elbereth, Star-kindler! You of course recognize it as the hymn sung to Varda, Queen of the Valar, by the Elves of Middle-Earth. Certainly a sacred text, if not quite what Mark Burrows had in mind. It would be a lovely challenge to set to music.

I will pause for a moment to see if you can think of why this text might be problematic.

Yes, of course, you see, it took me a few minutes of thought to remember that this is not in fact an ancient text, but a copyrighted work of fiction, not even 100 years old, written by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. I cannot set it to music without getting permission from the copyright holder, or in this case, his literary executor, Christopher Tolkien.

Which brings me to my actual topic today: copyright and the commons. Recently, in the august pages of the New York Times, novelist and right-wing arse Mark Helprin wrote a guest column in which he wondered exactly why intellectual property is treated so very differently from real property. His main point, as far as I could tell — the man does not write well — was that if you build a business or a building, the government does not step in after you’re dead and dismantle it, depriving your heirs of the income of your property. So why, oh why, will his heirs not receive the royalties from his books in perpetuity?

He presents no evidence as to why this is a good idea for society, nor does he present any counterclaims to his whining. This is remarkable, because he actually filled half the editorial page with this column, and yet the actual content of his argument is no more than what I have just summarized.

I don’t think he was lazy. I think he was dishonest. Any real argument as to the validity or even desirability of his proposal would have to include a discussion of the concept of the “commons,” and almost anyone who bothered to read the column would see straight through his specious logic.

Here’s the deal: many years ago, there was no copyright. People created, and other people borrowed what they created. Bach’s Concerto for Four Harpsichords? A straight transcription of Vivaldi’s Concerto for Four Violins. Shakespeare? Don’t get me started on his outright theft of other people’s stuff.

The upside of this was that everyone created constantly. They had to if they wanted to keep making a living. Shakespeare didn’t publish his plays during his lifetime because if he did, his company would lose their exclusive production rights. And that was the downside. You couldn’t be assured of the income of your works because anyone else could print them and sell them without paying you a farthing.

So eventually, a couple hundred years ago, the concept of copyright emerged. Like the concept of the corporation, it was conceived as a temporary stay against the claims of the commons, i.e., what one of us creates belongs to all of us, but for a little while, we’ll allow you exclusive right to any income produced by your work. After that limited time, it goes into the pot with everything else to enrich all our lives. Keep creating!

At first, copyright was very limited, like fourteen years, much like today’s patents for new medicines (which is seven years, after which we get to pay lower prices for generic versions). As time went on, laws extended copyright for longer and longer until now it’s the life of the author plus 70 years, and for a corporation, 95 years. This means that I won’t be able to use A Elbereth Gilthoniel until 2043, when it will enter the public domain 70 years after Tolkien’s death.

It also means that Walt Disney Co. gets to keep Steamboat Willie out of the public domain. The 1998 law that extended copyright is known as the “Mickey Mouse Protection Act” in some cynical quarters, and that’s what this is all about: protecting income for corporations. Disney is ferocious in guarding its copyrights and trademarks, and the idea that the first Mickey Mouse cartoon was about to be free drove them all insane.

All Mark Helprin is doing, in his conservative little way, is hopping on Disney’s juggernaut. Screw the common good; just give him his share. Forever. This, from the author of:

and

Was there any trace of irony in Helprin’s column? Nope, just very very sincere self-interest.

Discuss.