Important news

Posted on by Dale

All right, all you Rush Limbaugh haters, I just found an article that will explain everything.

Besides the fact that I am so going to endow the Ig Nobel committee with some of my lottery winnings when I die, I was struck by the research involving Viagra and hamsters on jet lag. It occured to me that this would explain that time Rush was detained at the airport on his way to Aruba or wherever it was, and he had Viagra on him that wasn’t actually prescribed to him, and it was an all-boys trip or something. Remember that?

Doesn’t it make sense? Doesn’t this exonerate him? The prescription wasn’t for him! It wasn’t! It was for his pet hamster, which travels with him everywhere. In his pocket.

Hm. That’s not really better, is it?

Stopping and starting

Posted on by Dale

I worked again last night on the “Least of These” piece, and I can’t make it work. I did four different settings of the text, and none of them pleased me. Yeah, I know, Edison made 999 light bulbs that didn’t work, but that took years and I’d rather not do that.

So I’m filing that idea away and abandoning the Outside the Bachs this year. I had been getting the feeling that I was using it to avoid working on Moonlight anyway, and I really want to get a lot of that done by Christmas, mostly because I feel the lure of the symphony calling me and I want to clear my desk before starting on that.

Unless, of course, I get notification from the Welcome Christmas folk that “Sir Christémas” didn’t win that competition, in which case I can turn around and submit it to Bob Burroughs.

Let’s see how productive I am tonight in getting back into Marx Bros. territory. I think I’ll start by cleaning up the songs I’ve worked on so far, which are… ::checking the files:: “Sheer Poetry,” “Love Song of Thurgood J. Proudbottom,” and of course, “I’d Never!” Also, I need to get my head in that 1930s soundworld, which I don’t think I’ve really done yet.

Yep, that’s what I need to do, all right.

Future me

Posted on by Dale

Remember this post?

I certainly didn’t until I got email from myself today. As promised, futureme.org allowed me to email my future self to check up on me.

So how have I done?

  • shepherd A Visit to William Blake’s Inn to a stage. It would give me great pleasure not to have to be in charge of this, but I know that’s what’s going to happen.
    • Well, we know how that one turned out. Brave attempt, total integrity. No backing.
  • get Lacuna jumpstarted, with its own domain and website.
    • We did that. What we’re doing now is another story.
  • make great strides towards starting and finishing A Day in the Moonlight for Mike Funt.
    • I’m still working on this, and I think I can get a lot of it done by Christmas.
  • compose at least one movement of my symphony.
    • Probably not going to happen, although if I can get a lot done on Moonlight, I might take a stab at sketching a movement out in December, thus making it just under the wire.
  • get the Newnan Crossing 100 Book Club off the ground and functioning.
    • It’s functioning, but not at the level I’d like. Still, it’s functioning.

So what’s my score? One yes, one maybe, one meh, one probably not, one absolute no. I am not impressed.

Avoiding work: rare books

Posted on by Dale

I’m avoiding working on the music this afternoon by cooking. And while I’m waiting for my Sugar-Crusted Breton Butter Cake to rise, I’m continuing to avoid work by reading the New York Times Book Review.

The first two pages are an ad for Bauman Rare Books, so I thought I’d buy a couple with my lottery winnings.

Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, first edition, first issue, in original cloth-gilt. What’s not to like? As Hemingway said, “All modern literature comes from one book by Mark Twain. It’s the best book we’ve had.” And he’s right. A wonder of story-telling and sly satire often missed by some of our more racially sensitive friends. $17,500.

Beatrix Potter, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, first edition, “a stunning copy.” If you haven’t looked at an original Potter recently, go pick one up. The writing is charming and her illustrations are inimitable. If you’ve only read it with some other person’s sad little drawings, you need to seek out the real thing. $17,000.

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, first edition, in the original dust jacket. Wow. I’ve love to have this one. $16,000.

Geoffrey Chaucer, The Workes of Geoffrey Chaucer, one of fewer than nine known copies of a 1551 edition, illustrated with woodcuts, early 19th century calf binding. Maybe if I owned this I might finally read the whole thing. Yes, I know, but my early lit professor had us read Troilus and Criseyde instead. $55,000.

Charles Dickens, The Christmas Books, first editions of all five. You know why. $28,500.

Ludwig van Beethoven, Cinquieme Sinfonie, first edition of the Fifth. That would be so cool. Then I could pay musicians to play so I could conduct from it. $13,500.

Hm. Maybe Harold Arlen/Johnny Mercer, Come Rain or Come Shine, first edition, inscribed by Mercer to Judy Garland. It’s camp, but it’s cheap at $6800.

Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, first American edition, $16,000.

Let’s see, that comes to $170,300 all told. Not bad for a couple of minutes shopping. Of course, I know I’d have to read them with white cotton gloves on, and I’d probably have to buy a whole new house with a climate-controlled library, but they’re all nice additions to my collection, I think.

Don’t worry, though, I’ve left plenty for you guys: Einstein‘s The World as I See It, $18.500. E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web, original dust jacket, $2400. F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise, first edition, special tipped-in “Author’s Apology,” $16,000. William Bligh, Narrative of the Mutiny, first edition, $22,000. A 1610 Geneva Bible, folio volume in calf binding with brass fittings, $16,500. Robert Frost, Complete Poems, signed, $3600. Marc Chagall, Dessins pour la Bible, first edition, $9800. James Joyce, Ulysses, first edition, one of only 750 copies printed on handmade paper, uncut and unrestored copy in original wrappers, $65,000.

I knew that would get your attention, Marc and Jeff. Don’t start a bidding war. So unseemly.

Here’s their website. Anything else you see that you like?

Working, sort of

Posted on by Dale

I actually got back to work yesterday, sort of.

Having chosen the “least of these” text for the Outside the Bachs piece, I sat down to work on it. And nothing happened.

I have in my head a vague Presentiment of what I want the piece to do, but the problem is the text. It is not even close to metrical, which shouldn’t be a problem in the long run, but at the moment it has me stymied. I mapped out its rhythm and tried applying notes to it, but everything I diddled with sounded either trite or aimless.

After an hour of that, I gave up and did the crossword puzzle.

Here’s what I’m thinking: set the text to a quiet, chantlike episode, perhaps a capella. Follow it with a nasty, loud, militant outburst from the organ, perhaps with a snare drum on the side. After the organ’s statement, return to the text, quiet, unaccompanied. The organ rebuts with a louder, nastier section. Repeat.

Two antecedents would be Charles Ive’s Symphony No. 4, 1st movement, and Carl Nielsen’s 5th, with the insistent snare drum in the final movement.

Even if I’m successful with this, it will be too polemical by half, especially if I include recognizable bits of “Onward, Christian Soldiers” and “The Star-Spangled Banner” in the organ interludes. I’ve almost decided not to conclude the piece with the congregation singing “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee,” and I know you’re relieved to hear that. But I haven’t ruled out members of the choir stating flatly, “I was hungry, and you did not feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me water. I needed clothes, and you didn’t clothe me. I was a stranger, and you did not take me in.” And so on.

Too much? I’m in a mood.

It’s official. Sort of.

Posted on by Dale

I reported the demise of the world premiere of William Blake’s Inn to the Newnan Arts Commission yesterday. They were completely sympathetic and supportive, but no one suddenly agreed to take on this project.

Still, since Jan Bowyer has been working steadily to bring 25 Scottish kids over here, the question arose, for what? That didn’t seem to bother anyone. They have a year, after all, right? Someone did suggest they could sing “excerpts” from William Blake’s Inn. I suggested they could sing the whole thing, albeit in concert mode. A lot cheaper, indeed, especially if we’re talking a single performance.

Hm, they said. So I cheerfully told them to let me know if they needed copies of the music and departed. I was out of there.

JoAnn Ray did pull me aside and give me a name and an address to send it to over in Alabama, a foundation of her family’s connected with the Alabama Shakespeare Festival. That’s another packet I’m mailing today. The others are to the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra (do they even get unsolicited manuscripts?); the Center for Puppetry Arts; the Lookingglass Theatre in Chicago; and the Sarasota (FL) Arts Council.

Diane has also suggested the Sautee Nacoochee Center up in north Georgia, which I’ll add to my list today.

And I have to get working again. The Outside the Bachs competition is due at the end of the month, and yes, I have to work on Day in the Moonlight at some point. I really really really want to finish that by Christmas.

Any suggestions for a religious text for the Outside the Bachs piece?

Anxiety

Posted on by Dale

I know, I haven’t written in over a week. It’s not as if I’ve been doing nothing. Oh, wait, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Never mind.

Well, actually, I have been doing a little. We had the Barnes & Noble thing, of course, and that got me thinking/worrying about exactly where William Blake’s Inn is. Of course, the short answer is nowhere. No one in our fair city is in the least bit interested in being the chair of the WBOC.

Just to make sure, though, I personally contacted one of the best candidates for said chairmanship, who very promptly turned me down (not without praising the work and me without stint.) That’s it, folks. William Blake’s Inn will not have its premiere in Newnan.

I will report on this fact to the Arts Commission on Wednesday, and then I will drop in the mail proposals to various performing organizations around this country.

That’s what I’ve been working on this weekend: cover letters, synopses, printouts of vocal scores, etc., all aimed at specific groups for whom the Inn would be a good fit. After I get a CD label designed and printed, and the CDs burned, everything’s ready to go in the mail.

It is very scary how easy this is. I was done with the Atlanta Symphony and the Center for Puppetry Arts long before lunch yesterday morning. Lookingglass Theater in Chicago took a little longer this morning, because they have very specific things they’re looking for and don’t want a copy of the piece itself, just a synopsis.

But I could really have everything in the mail by tomorrow afternoon. Whoosh, as my email program would say.

And that’s scary. I don’t know why, because it’s not as if I’m using these groups to validate the piece. I know it’s good, and I know it would be a good fit for any of them. If they reject it, as is almost certain, it’s not going to crush my spirits.

I guess it’s because I know by putting the Inn out there, I allow myself to hope that it might find a home. Looking back over the Lacuna workshop blogposts, I was struck by how hopeful we sounded. We were certain that people were working to pull together to form the WBOC. This was going to be a wonderful opportunity for all of us. This time, it would be totally different than the way the arts in Newnan have been dealt with in the past.

Only, of course, it wasn’t. Everyone applauded politely then turned away. Everyone loved the music, everyone thought our staging was cool, no one wanted to work with us. It was that simple, and we should have seen it coming. Well, I should have seen it coming. That’s all I ever saw in the 25+ years I was involved in active arts production in this city: oohs and aahs and brief spurts of interest — can we even count the number of “arts councils” that have been formed here? — but no sustained, organized support. Why I thought it would be different this time, I have no idea.

So dropping William Blake’s Inn into the mail to find its fortune elsewheres is very scary, because I have to commit to hope again. Not to do so would be even more exhausting.

::sigh::

Posted on by Dale

Today’s “Writer’s Almanac” daily email features Maxwell Perkins, the brilliant editor of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Thomas Wolfe, among others. (Remember Auntie Mame’s cry of delight when she finds she’s getting an editor for her book? “Who? Maxwell Perkins??”)

It concluded with, “When Maxwell Perkins died, he still had a pile of manuscripts next to his bed.”

Now I’m depressed.

Ars longa, vita brevis, and a truer word was never spoke.

In other news, they’re auctioning off a complete autographed set of the Harry Potter novels, the only known set to exist. They (I forget whom) are expecting $20,000 for it; proceeds go to an organization which gets books into the hands of children in developing countries.

Hey, I’d pay that for the set. In fact, with my lottery winnings, I’ll do even better. I’ll give them $250,000 if Jo sits down to dinner with us (I’ll cook) and then autographs my two sets after dessert. That sounds fair, doesn’t it?

On a lesser scale, consider giving to our local Ferst Foundation effort.