Warm.

I must apologize.  Yesterday I got home with zero wits about me, and I was way too tired to pick a good improv from yesterday's arsenal.  I just threw one on here, and it's probably the worst of the group.  Kinda frustrating.  But in the spirit of putting anything and everything out there, maybe I can live with having some super mediocre stuff up there, too.  It's all me, after all.

Today I spent a good chunk of time drugging myself with iTunes U podcasts.  I started out with an hour and a half Philosophy for Beginners lecture from Oxford U, on recommendation from my brother-in-law.  So interesting.  And a very cool part of it is that you can apply so many of those questions to music, and music creation.  Maybe that's silly, but let me ask you:  did a piece (any piece, think of one specific for you,) exist before it was created, or only after?  How could it exist now if it didn't exist then?  What are the musical atoms that had to be put together to form the idea of the piece, and where did they come from?  And how are our concepts formed?  Lots of other questions here, but these are some fun ones to start out with.

I burnt my rice.  Too much damn philosophizing!

Here we go, Day 146: https://ia600808.us.archive.org/0/items/Improv1712/1_7_128_11Pm.mp3

Fat.

It's hard to know, as a westerner, when one should be diving head first into the fat of an animal.

One of my distinct childhood memories, and I mean early on (2 or 3), is of grabbing a fistful of shiny gristle from a well-surveyed platter that had once been full of steak, and giving it a good suck.  Much to my toddling dismay, my hand was struck in revulsion, and I was promptly discouraged from ever enjoying the "lesser" of an animal's bounty.  Legend has it, I had somewhat of a palate for fats: fingerfuls of sour cream, butter, and whipped cream by the bowlful.  (I used to make it just to eat by itself.  True story.)

I once delicately placed, with chopsticks and all, an entire chunk of pure fat in my mouth that was intended to be a grill lubricant.  I was in Thailand, and I had never had what we were eating.  It wasn't gross to me, though I did get  a leery look from my table-mate.  I just didn't know, and was trying to be polite.  Oh well...

Tonight is more clear, though.  The ribbons of succulent, buttery, and yes, salty beauty on this particular prosciutto is not to be wasted.  I could savor it by the yard.  Anyone who trims it would be performing sacrilege.

Here we go, Day 143: https://ia600804.us.archive.org/5/items/Improv1412/1_4_127_48Pm.mp3

Don't even get me started on cheeses.  Love of fats and cheeses, pigs feet, etc. (bar foods of yore, really): definitely a legacy passed down from dear old dad.

Alas... Manhattan.

The nights get later and later, don't they??

I thought it was just the tilt of the earth in relation to the sun... the axis and all.

But in reality, the late hour still shows the same number, summer or not.

Besame mucho...

Here we go, Day 142: https://ia700803.us.archive.org/3/items/Improv1312/1_3_128_33Pm.mp3

A "theme" and variations.  I finally found/created one that is semi worth posting... a short, tasty little thing.

If I could see stars in Manhattan, I would be pretty excited to be up at this time, watching a meteor shower.  Alas... Manhattan.

Ondine.

One happiness for today: I finally worked all the way through Ondine, from beginning to end, for the first time.  Man, there are a lot of notes in that piece.  The biggest difficulty for me were the two measures where every half beat changes from 7 against 5 to 6 against 7 to 5 against 6, and so forth, with complicated arpeggiations of different chords, also at every half beat.  Drives me CRAZY!  I'm a terrible sight-reader to begin with, which only added to my frustration.

But, after a long while, I can finally do it!!  Every time I hear this piece, or play any part of it, I feel so privileged to be experiencing it.  What a masterpiece!


I haven't done this for a while, but I'm gonna put two improvs today.  These were the only two I did, but there's something about each of them that I really like.  I hope I can start expanding my language, though... if not today, maybe tomorrow.

Here we go, Day 141: https://ia600804.us.archive.org/2/items/Improv1212/1_2_126_27Pm.mp3
and Day 141, Part 2: https://ia700808.us.archive.org/34/items/Improv21212/1_2_126_33Pm.mp3

Altruism.

Do you ever stop to think about the experiences you are having in the moment you are having them?  And wonder why you are meeting certain people?

What is life about for you?  Surely it's not just the drudgery of day to day existence.

When I reflect on the impact that people have on me and on my life, I'm blown away with the importance and gravity of those connections.  It is amazing to me how altruistic humans are, and how we can do it with such selflessness.

Happy new year.

Here we go, Day 140: https://ia600809.us.archive.org/28/items/Improv1112/1_1_127_34Pm.mp3

2011. Space Odyssey.

The year is saying goodbye tonight, and the world looks back in reflection on 2011.  I don't get too nutso over things like this.  I think I've already done a lot of that lately, anyway.  But it's worth noting that 2011 was one of the best and worst years of my entire life.  This was a year of pondering psychological and emotional anthropology.  Of awareness and mystery.  This year tested the limits of my patience and endurance in many ways, and I'm happy to say that I still haven't found their end.

I'm thirty years old, and I'm still discovering things that delight me every day, and I still believe in the goodness of people despite their shortcomings, and mine.  If next year is anything like this year, it's gonna be a rough ride, but if I can come away from it with what I just wrote, I'll be happy as ever.

Peace and love.

And all the other sappy stuff.

Here we go, Day 139: https://ia600801.us.archive.org/3/items/Improv123111/12_31_117_11Pm.mp3

Goodbyes.

The ride from the farm to the airport was a little mixed.  It was a good three hours with just sister talk.  It's been a while since that's happened.

Although I was bummed that I didn't get to see my folks at all this Christmas (except via Skype), the alternative several days at the farm have been pretty amazing, in a very calm and relaxed sort of way.  When I told Ana we only had one sleep left together last night, she said, "Awwww-wwww..." the way little kids do.  And today she looked very sad as I held my arms out for a big hug.  It's hard to leave my sister's family, as it is always hard to leave my parents every time they drive me to the airport.  I am so far removed from that Minnesota life when I'm in New York, it's hard to even put my finger on all the things I'm missing.  But it doesn't really matter if I can't quantify it.  It's my family, and it's hard to be away.

Maybe it was that knowledge that made me all weepy when natural disaster came up, and I told Joy about a letter I had received this past August from one of Lyra's biggest Vermonter supporters about the devastation following the hurricane.  I couldn't even finish the story without stopping to take a big gulp of air.  And then I had to go and tell her the plot to Madame Butterfly.  I just can't get through the end of it without crying.  I'm not even talking music... I'm talking synopsis.  When my roommate long ago read it to me for the first time, I started sobbing like a baby.  Which led to a memory of seeing La Boheme at the Met with both Akiko and my sister.  At the end, when the lights went up, we were all in tears, feeling "nobody look at me!!"

Ah.  Goodbyes.  They're pretty much the hardest thing ever.  Physically I make myself turn around and walk in the opposite direction, because for the most part, it must be done.  But emotionally, I don't know if I've ever said goodbye to anyone and meant it.

Well, maybe once.  More on that... em... never.

Here we go, Day 138: https://ia600804.us.archive.org/8/items/Improv123011/12_30_118_08Pm.mp3

Raw milk.

I derive pleasure from many things, but one of my favorites on the farm is raw milk.  Nothing quite like it.  I'm currently sitting back, relaxing, while the children are asleep, sipping a delicious stove-top hot chocolate with a wonderful base of creamy raw milk.  I love the singed taste that is hinted in the background, begotten from cooking the milk on the stove itself.  None of that microwave business.  It is one of the best hot chocolates I've ever had, if I do say so myself.  Not quite as decadent as my recent Italian hot cocoa from Eataly, but still very tasty indeed.  ;-)  I'm sure part of it is the surrounding experience: my sister, brother-in-law and I, all conglomerating in the living room in front of a toasty fire, enjoying our last evening together, sounds of sawing wood seeping out from the kids' room.

Here we go, Day 137: https://ia600806.us.archive.org/4/items/Improv122911/12_29_118_42Pm.mp3

Castle.

The knight is a jerk.  I wanted to put the whole story on here, but that would've taken a long time with the bandwidth at the farm.  It took two hours, in fact, just to upload one scene.  There was also the king trying to save the queen (oh, and he put the knight in jail, by the way,) and the king getting eaten by the dragon, and the blue townsman saving the queen.  Stick around for the sequel.  Especially if I can get dolls that have moveable eyebrows and mouths.

Here we go, Day 136: https://ia700807.us.archive.org/30/items/Improv122811/12_28_115_22Pm.mp3











Gatsby.

I love antique shops.  I could spend hours and hours in a good one, and lose myself to time.

Today found a few treasures... an art deco (I love art deco) thermostat (yeah, I just wanted it for the cool clock face, but I'll probably end up using it as a bookend, unless I can wire it for batteries), a pretty sweet 1907 windup alarm clock that still works, and the piece de resistance (I wish I knew the shortcuts for accents), a 1931 Victrola portable phonograph player that still works.  I got a few phonographs, as well, lest I have nothing to play on my new toy.  It was $44, and money well spent, if only for the wide-eyed, gape-mouthed expression I must've made when it produced its first crooning tones for us.  SO COOL!  I couldn't have left without it.

And then, just moments later, some random young guy wandered into the store, saw what we were oohing and ahhing over, and began to tell us all kinds of things about the machine.  A remarkable twist of serendipitous fabric, he turned out to know pretty much everything about phonographs... Edison vs. Victrola, steel needles vs. Tungs-tone, 45s vs. 78s, etc, etc.  He went on and on... from the felt being made out of mohair, to the springs inside being about 30 feet long, and covered in graphite.  Anyway,  I now have a personal expert to help me out whenever I have a question about my new, old turntable.

I love the sound of this thing.  Got me some Heifitz, some Bizet, a one-step, a two-step, a couple fox trots, a blues, and a handful of other fun little gems.  Can't wait to give it a good crank, and sit back in my chair with a chilled martini in hand.  I don't really drink martinis, but I'll do it once or twice for effect... pretend that F. Scott Fitzgerald is over for cocktails or something.

And I now have a frame of reference for that sound they put in movies of a record dying, and then being wound back up.  You know that sound I'm talking about?

Here we go, Day 134: https://ia600801.us.archive.org/4/items/Improv122611/12_26_118_05Pm.mp3

Three kings.

It's really fun to watch little kids open presents on Christmas morning.  Exhausting, too, but really fun.

As usual, there's a lot I'd love to write.  Actually, there are a lot of pictures I'd want to post, but the internet connection is on the slow side right now (unbearably so, in fact), so those will have to wait until another time.

But, the sunrise was beautiful (my observance of which was aided by the promise of Santa's visit), the sunset was truly breathtaking, and after dark, we were able to see the glow of Minneapolis against the clouds, even at 160 miles away.  And then, into the night, Orion, his belt, and yonder Sirius, were clear as could be... almost like if we were to make the journey, we would reach that brilliant star.  It twinkled with such intensity, and almost touched the cresting horizon.  I wanted to stare at it for hours, but it was just a bit too cold, and the fireplace was beckoning.

Here we go, Day 133: https://ia700803.us.archive.org/25/items/Improv122511/12_25_117_54Pm.mp3

Stars.

Wow!  Lots that I could write about tonight.

Found out that my brother-in-law would be a philosophy professor if he were to follow his passions.  That, plus a three hour drive to the farm made for some interesting conversation.  The question of existence and how do we trust it, anyone?  Realism vs. materialism.  Descartes.  Shortly thereafter began the DNA discussion, and a lecture he heard about the way that DNA coils, and how that affects what type of cell you'll have.  Super groovy.  And that led to discussion of artificial intelligence vs. consciousness.  Which then circled back to realism and existence, and the line between life and death. Wow.  I'm glad I've got almost an entire week here... I'm totally ready to explode some brains, mine included.

Two Christmas surprises.  First, my sister-in-law, Jodi, woke up at 6am to bake some cookies that I had indirectly requested on facebook, without really expecting anything.  For the record, they were the peanut butter ones with a hershey kiss in the middle.  I love those.  Especially if the chocolate is all melty from being pressed onto the hot cookies.  It wasn't, but I'll take what I can get.  (Melted chocolate is the bees knees.)

Second Christmas surprise: One year ago, my sister brought three little orphaned kittens to my parents because they were too little to be left at the farm without any care.  Joy and Dan were trying to find a home for them because they already had too many farm cats, and these sweet, little ones were not going to do too well there for long.  So my sister and her husband put an ad on craigslist.  And in the morning, they brought the two tabbies over to an elderly woman's house whose cat had just died.  (The woman's family had only been looking for one kitten, and my sneaky sister and brother-in-law brought both for them "to choose," hoping they would take both.  They did.)  That left poor little Tinkerbell all alone, for the first time without brothers and sisters.  My mom, who is on the finicky side, did not want the farm kittens in her house, for a few reasons (including possible parasitic worms and allergy suffering), but we'll leave it at that she's just finicky.  However, the basement, where the kittens had been staying, is super, super cold.  And I felt super, super bad.  Plus I love kittens.  And being a softy who loves kittens, I couldn't let little Tink stay down there all alone, without sibling warmth and cuddles, in a tiny, cold, concrete-floored confinement.  So I let her sleep with me.  (Much to mom's dismay.)  And she curled up in a soft, purring, little ball, and nestled down deep, next to my belly, where she was warm and protected.

Anyway, the Christmas surprise was, after all that story, a one year old, very sweet and affectionate leg rub from Tinkerbell upon arrival.  Cutest and friendliest little thing, she's still all cuddles and purrs.  I wish she could sleep with me here, but she's now a full fledged farm cat: not allowed inside.  My greatest disappointment in humanity is that people don't purr.  It really is so appropriate for many occasions. 

Ah yes, and I can't forget the stars.  New moon means many, many more stars.  Love.

Here we go, Day 132: https://ia700801.us.archive.org/22/items/Improv122411/12_24_1111_52Am.mp3

Oh, and starting today, I finally got smart enough to check the box that says, "Open link in a new window."  So, now you can listen and read at the same time.  Christmas smartedness!!

Leper.

Midday, met with Christmas disappointment.  All I wanted was to be well when I went home, but of course I got sick, and now I'm going to be shipped off to my sister's farm as soon as our holiday dinner is over so that my germs can play tag-team with my nieces and nephew.  S'okay.  I've already had the chicken pox.  But it is a bit of a bummer.  I was really hoping to just sit around watching old westerns and Kurosawa films with Dad while I finished knitting my sweater.  Now I'll be playing pirate with Ana and Toby, while my sweater sits gloomily unfinished in my suitcase.  Can't wait to see what pirate name they assign me, though.  (Ana is Pirate Arrrrr, and Toby is Pirate Ahoy.  Joy is Pirate Ticklesme... or something like that.)  And of course, it will be only the second bit of time I've gotten to spend with baby Claire.  So there's a bonus.

I am a little bit concerned with when I will be able to squeeze in improvs.  Not to fret, though.  I won't give up just because of three little ruffians running around.  Not my style.  I might integrate them into the recordings, though.  The question is... how...?

Here we go, Day 131: https://ia700802.us.archive.org/23/items/Improv122311/12_23_118_36Pm.mp3

Have you ever seen a happier poxed little boy?

Honesty.

I was asked once what my greatest motivator in life was, and my answer was expression.

One day, when I was a young girl about 7 or 8, my dad and sister came home from a walk, strongly shaken up.  My dad was in near hysterics as he told us what had happened on their way.  There was an accident which occurred right in front of them.  Two girls on bikes, inches in front of my sister, had been thrown into the air, and across the street.  I don't remember now what had happened to them.  I'm sure they were severely injured.  My dad was clearly thanking God that my sister hadn't been a step closer to the curb.  Both my dad and sister escaped unscathed, but I was in tears upon hearing their account.  Even recalling the story now, as common as this one might be, I choke up and have little wet puddles on the brims of my eyes.  I said, quietly, to my dad, "We don't tell each other enough that we love each other.  We need to do that."

I don't know why my dad remembers this event so well, but to my bashfulness, he tells it often.  He recalls it with the air of a fable... more for the moral rather than the story.  And I can't help it... every time he brings it up, my heart swells with the fear that I might not get the chance to express my heartfelt love and affection for the people around me before it's too late.

And so I have gone forth into life, with a quietly overwhelming urgency to share whatever I am feeling as soon as I feel it, in an act of spontaneity that feels like I have taken in too much oxygen, and with complete disregard to understanding myself or even caring.  It might be a dangerous game for some, but not for me.  There's no shame in honesty of the heart.  The real peril is in losing our opportunities to express.

So, the music.  Don't know where all this Americana is coming from, but here it is again.

Here we go, Day 130: https://ia600801.us.archive.org/19/items/Improv122211/12_22_119_46Pm.mp3

Solstice.

Forgoing a lengthy blog post tonight in favor of "actual work."

I love tonight.  And just in this very moment, one strong gust blew that tropical night away, and became a chilly winter evening.  The leaves left on the tree outside shook, and glittered gold under the street lamp, with the kind of laugh one makes when whipped with cold.  Funny how weather can turn on a dime like that. 

Here we go, Day 129: https://ia600806.us.archive.org/23/items/Improv122111/12_21_117_59Pm.mp3

Ingredients.

Over dinner tonight, improv inevitably came up as a main topic of conversation.  I explained the dilemma I often have, of chasing down what I believe "should be" on my palette of colors vs. using the colors that come in the box.  Trying to use colors that aren't there, but that I might be able to mix.  It seems obvious what needs to happen here... maybe it just took an abstract metaphor to get me to realize it.

Anyway, the ingredients metaphor also came up: having to make a meal out of whatever is in your fridge.  The proposed ingredients list was: iceburg lettuce, an onion, some leftover beans, and mustard.  If you ask me, those are some pretty bad ingredients to try to make something tasty from, but if you've got to do it, you do it.  And then you eat it.  And you make the best of it.

Now: improvise.

Today, something a little Ivesian/Rzewskian.  Decidedly American.

Here we go, Day 128: https://ia600708.us.archive.org/29/items/Improv122011/12_20_118_51Pm.mp3