96 days

All right, what gives?

In the past two days, we have…

  • Misha Defonseca, 71, Belgian, whose memoir (Surviving with Wolves) about her fleeing from Nazis and being sheltered by wolves was, oddly, fiction. Not real. “It is not actually reality,” she pleads, “but my reality, my way of surviving… I beg you to put yourself in my place, of a 4-year-old girl who was very lost.” Her real name appears to be Monique De Wael.
  • Margaret B. Jones, 33, whose “critically acclaimed memoir” Love and Consequences is not in fact about her life, given that she grew up in a well-to-do nuclear family in an affluent suburb, not in foster homes in gang-riven South-Central LA. “I’m not saying like I did it right,” Ms. Jones. “I did not do it right.” Her real name is in fact Margaret Seltzer.
  • Robert Irvine, 42, celebrity chef of Dinner Impossible on Food Network (‘ware, Marc!), is not in fact a British knight, owner of a castle in Scotland, or chummy with Prince Charles. He felt pressure “to keep up with the Joneses,” he said. Whether he meant Margaret B. Jones is unclear, and Robert Irvine is apparently his real name.

This is preposterous. What is with people, that they seek fame and fortune by creating stupendously bogus lives? Certainly, I wish I lived a more exciting and monetarily rewarding life, but on the whole my life is pretty glamorous as it is. And anything I concocted would be shot down in less time than it took for Margaret Seltzer’s sister to see her photo in the New York Times and call the publisher to blow the whistle.

As Georg C. Lichtenberg says, “Nowadays three witty turns of phrase and a lie make a writer. (D.25)” So here’s your assignment, Lichtenbergians: hie thee over to the Waste Book and create the news story (in the Times, of course) about your newfound fame collapsing because of your outrageous lies have been detected. Make sure to include your excuses/apologies.

97 days

It being a Monday, I didn’t get any work done on the piece, other than listening to it in the car going here and there.

The other reason I got not a lot done is that lichtenbergian.org finally came through: whatever Noah’s been tied up with finally let him loose enough to give me access to the domain. Within minutes hours I had our blog up and running, including the beginnings of a huge collection of Georg Christoph’s aphorisms.

So, Lichtenbergians, pile in.

98 days, part III

I worked all morning, then drove to Lenox to find a tux shirt. On the way I listened to my latest efforts, and these are the notes I scribbled on the way up and back:

  • + bassoon to RR echo (ended up not necessary)
  • stronger minor [chord] after duet (it’s a major chord; see below)
  • extend duet? (not yet, but I may still)
  • + woodw to 2nd [building phrase] (not today, but I will)
  • downbows on 2nd [building phrase] (done)
  • string pad for duet? (haven’t tried it yet)
  • A major m. before D7 m.? (did that, it worked)
  • continue Eng. horn to B (did that, it worked)
  • alt. up and downbow on 3rd [building phrase] (done)
  • extra E major m. [after duet] (did that, will double-check it)
  • 1/2 notes for Grandiose brass [chorale] (tried it, discarded it)

And with that, my next bit of work will be the minor agitato section: extend that and get us back to the Grand Recapitulation of the Rachmaninov Ripoff™ theme.

You may recall a gentle, wistful version of the agitato theme. I think that’s actually going to be the coda of this whole thing: a lullaby to put it all to bed, only with one final chordal sequence to swell to double forte, of course.

98 days, part II

If any of you like that part that follows the Grandiose Bit, where the agitato theme enters in G major in the strings with staccato brass, speak now, because I think it’s going to go away. Personally, I think it sounds silly, and with the variations I’m ringing on the Rachamaninov Ripoff™ theme, I think I can head straight into the clarinet statement of the agitato theme.

100 days

I have a widget counting down the days to GHP and hence to the day that I might be reasonably expected to turn over a score to Stephen Czarkowski for a summer performance.

It now says 100 days and some odd hours/minutes.

Feh.

I know, I’ll begin a hysterical daily countdown post. Sort of like the 365 project, only really really neurotic and probably not as entertaining, unless you like watching a fellow Lichtenbergian melt down.

William Blake’s Inn: an embarrassment

So today I was reading from Nancy Willard’s A Visit to William Blake’s Inn to some interested kindergarteners visiting my Reading Cave™, in celebration of Read Across America Day. I got to “A Rabbit Shows Me My Room,” and was stunned by an error I’ve made for 25 years.

Quick, fill in the blank:

“I will keep you from perilous starlight,
and the old __________ lunatic cat.”

If you said man’s, it’s because you’ve sung William Blake’s Inn one time too many. The actual word is moon’s.

Arrgggh!

IV. Lento, slogging ahead

Well, I’m sure I don’t know. I like my grandiose bit coming out of the obligatory repeat, so I’m keeping that, but I kept monkeying with the dotted trumpet rhythms. They’re supposed to be reminiscent of the agitato theme, but I don’t think they are. I’ll keep monkeying.

The grandiose bit, if you listened to the fragment a week ago, let straight into the major version of the agitato, and all that followed. I’ve tried something different, wedging a couple of variations on the Rachmaninov Ripoff™ theme in there. It’s still not falling together, but I’ve stopped for the night.

Here’s the mp3. What I’ve done is recorded everything after the obligatory repeat, with a measure rest between all the bits I keep shoving back and rearranging.

IV. Lento

I’m writing this to avoid working on Lento. I haven’t touched it in a week: we went to north Georgia and then to Guilford, and of course when I got home on Sunday it was too late and I was too tired. Then Monday was Masterworks, and last night was the Martha Graham Company concert, which was an exhilarating example of the purity of genius. But now here it is a week later and I have nothing new.

To make it worse, I did listen to it on Monday, and I’m still very unhappy with the development part. I need to sit down and do some thinking. One thing that I may try is what Martha Graham did with Aaron Copland for Appalachian Spring: she wrote out what she wanted the music to sound like and to express. Don’t think you’re going to get that here. I have a private journal for that; you may recall that this symphony has an actual program, but I’m not divulging it. Perhaps being explicit about the program of this movement might help.

A bold move

Yep, a bold move. That’s what I need all right.

Since we (the Lyles and the Honeas) are heading to north Georgia this afternoon, mostly because we like to drive in the heaviest rain this year, towards the freezing altitudes, and thence to Guilford to watch a lacrosse game for the weekend, I’ve decided to leave the computer behind. I’ll take my music paper Moleskine and probably work on III. Andante, which, if you will recall, is a concert waltz.

Then, when I re-encounter IV. Largo on Sunday evening, I will have some distance from it and can more easily slit my wrists upon realizing what utter drek it is.

Wish me luck.

P.S. I’m also taking War & Peace as my only reading.