Cloudyclear.

As never-ending and complicated as everything presents, it's simultaneously simple.  And for the exact same reasons, posed in slightly different perspectives.  See?  Truth really is a paradox.  Every time.  Think about it....  And that's why our decisions become tricky. 

The improv: I don't even know what to say.  Today was quite obscured.  And in listening back, not so very terrible... hmmm....  The listenings; so haphazard.  They have become specimens... not good or bad, but weird and interesting in their meanderings.  So I'm picking the weirdest one of all.  Who cares.

Here we go, Day 226: https://ia800307.us.archive.org/28/items/Improv32712/20120327203752.mp3

Everything will be ok.

Saw a great film collection and interview with Don Hertzfeldt tonight.  It was exactly what I needed... to laugh, to ponder, to feel without effort, and with a light-heartedness to being without watering down the suffering.

He spoke about his gladness to be a part of the viewing... that he was happy to witness how his creation interacted with the audience.  He liked being present when portions of his work won us over, or when it failed in front of us.  It made me think about what is different with performers in that regard, but what could be the same.  And maybe it's worth entertaining the idea that it is not just what we gather from onstage, but also what we might observe from outside the whole ordeal.

I dunno.

Here we go, Day 225: https://ia600505.us.archive.org/5/items/Improv32612/20120326172635.mp3

Calibrate.

Sometimes the mind needs to recalibrate itself so that stuff balances out again.  Well, I think mine is doing that right now.  And it's freaking exhausting.  I wish it were as easy as waving my iPhone in a figure 8 pattern.  But it's not.  And it's frustrating that I can't speed it up, either.  It's like waiting for iMovie to convert and process a video.  Have you ever done that??  It takes forever.  (Man, enough with the Apple references, already.)

Anyway, I was really glad for that massage today.  But even after I told two different ladies at the place that I wanted someone who gave really strong massages, I still felt like it wasn't hard enough.  I know I'm petite, but these muscles need a pickaxe.  It needs to be so intense that I'm completely bruised the next day.  Seriously, it's the only way to get out my knots.

But aside from all that, still happy-go-lucky as ever... just mind-flooded with all kinds of good stuff.  I'm in there with a bunch of buckets, bailing out what is starting to collect around my ankles, but getting distracted by the squiggly little tadpoles and minnows swimming about them.  See, it's hard to scoop out those fun daydreams, because the truth is, I actually like watching them play.

On the improv: got some Antheil for sure, maybe a little Bartok, yes?

Here we go, Day 224: https://ia600307.us.archive.org/26/items/Improv32512/20120325195532.mp3

The men in grey.

Life holds one great but quite commonplace mystery.  Though shared by each of us and known to all, it seldom rates a second thought.  That mystery, which most of us take for granted and never think twice about, is time.

Calendars and clocks exist to measure time, but that signifies little because we all know that an hour can seem an eternity or pass in a flash, depending on how we spend it.

Time is life itself, and life resides in the human heart.

Here we go, Day 223: https://ia600307.us.archive.org/20/items/Improv32412/20120324172202.mp3

Something pretty personal happened in this one... I'm not exactly sure what, but... I can hear it.

Transience.

I couldn't do anything today.  Everything I improvised felt pretty worthless, and even my classical practice was quite lackadaisical.  I'm hoping that with some renewal, I'll be better tomorrow, and at least give myself an opportunity to really experiment with the pedals I borrowed off of my friend.  My classical pianist brand is slowly healing... it will always be there, but I've certainly wandered away from the herd.

I think one of the things that bothers me most is transience.  I hate that people slip in and out of our lives, and all we have left at the end of the day are ghosts.  Yet at the same time I sometimes feel that it is a very romantic way of living, and usually if a person affects us, they've imprinted on us, whether they stay in our lives or not.  And when memories are provoked by the smallest, most obscure triggers, we get a pleasant twinkle of time past gifting such loveliness to time present.  It's beautiful, really.  And maybe what that means is that there is no actual transience after all.  And if that's the case, I wonder how many places I am in right now....

Here we go, Day 221: https://ia600806.us.archive.org/2/items/Improv32212/20120322150230.mp3

Double feature.

The intention was to have some time to write tonight, but several oysters and improvs later, here I am, at the cusp of night to morning, with many yawns and few minutes left to slumber.

Here we go, (featuring Blaser on trombone,) Day 220: https://ia600804.us.archive.org/8/items/Improv32112/20120321213736.mp3
and, which I think Sam likes a little better: https://ia600309.us.archive.org/18/items/Imrpov232112/20120321215434.mp3

... and while we're at it, this one from earlier in the day, which gets all moody and pretty cool toward the latter half: https://ia700801.us.archive.org/6/items/Improv332112/20120321153901.mp3

Equinox.

Spent a good portion of the evening trying to produce a cricket sound on command, something I've wanted to be able to do for a long time.  Not easy... and annoyed my cat very much in the process.  She kept screaming at me to stop whistling.  Two birds, one stone.  Ha.

So I think Saturday marks the day when I finally became unafraid of improvising.  It took 8 months.  But the last few days, I've felt so completely liberated at the piano.  I'm not sure what made it happen, but I feel really good about it... a different pianist altogether.  The improvs have gotten longer and longer, and with no extra effort.  And they don't have to be long, but it goes to show that things are free-flowing, and totally unobstructed.

And now, about chords: what was dripping into my brain the other day as I played.  The role of one pitch can go with so many chords, and all those chords mean something so different.  One note; it's always in that same place, but in the places it might fit, it could be a part of pure joy, grief, melancholy, anger, humor, confusion, contemplation... it might even be the reason that that particular chord conveys that particular meaning.  Aww, forget it.  The moment of revelation is over... I can't write about chords the way that I mean, and the way that I want to right now.  You'll have to imagine what more had passed through my mind at that special instant.

And spring equinox.  I love spring, but it has this tendency to make me uneasy.  Even though I really, really love it.  Weird, but true.

Here we go, Day 219: https://ia600802.us.archive.org/4/items/Improv32012/20120320142106.mp3

Taxes.

I really, really hate preparing my taxes.  It turns me into a little, furious ball of anger.  That is why I have put it off until now... 12:04, night before I see my accountant.  I have to do Lyra taxes, too.  Double bummer.  So anyway, I'm going to leave the post where it is... not write too much (even though I had some observations about chords).  Except that I hope this trend of letting go in improvs keeps up... even if I'm not happy with everything, I'm happy with the freedom.

Here we go, Day 217: https://ia700807.us.archive.org/23/items/Improv31812/20120318185442.mp3

Practice.

I have a good stiffness in my hands right now... I got to practice for three consecutive hours tonight, and what is even better is that it was focused.  I haven't focused that well for that long in... a really long time.  There were several years when I felt like three hours was not nearly long enough, and I would get a little worried that I was somehow not fulfilling an obligation.  Yeesh.  If I only knew then that my most significant musical epiphanies were not realized in a practice room.  Anyway, a couple days ago, I felt like I had totally forgotten how to practice.  Good to not feel that way today. 

I don't know what it was, and I'm not going to ask questions.  But today I totally let go in my improv, and it felt so fantastic.  I'm not saying it's the best improv ever, or that you're gonna love it.  You might even hate it.  But it was maybe the first time ever that I didn't give a crap about whether I had made mistakes or worried about how the music should go.  Yet it all felt pretty in control.  In the moment, it felt physically exhilarating, emotionally expressive, and cathartic.  In fact, I didn't know what to do afterward.  I thought maybe I would get up or play another piece, but I was under a spell.  So I just sat there for a little while, and felt the air.

Here we go, Day 216: https://ia600809.us.archive.org/1/items/Improv31712/20120317193800.mp3

Ides.

Look at the ants.  Now there's a successful species.  They rely mostly on instinct, and secretions.  When they die, their kin come and gather their bodies.  They march on, one by one, single file, to their goals.  Uniform, unquestioning, dutiful.  They maintain their cities, and live on.

I'm a perfect idiot.

That is, if that is what success is measured by.  If I were a citizen of a little ant city, it would certainly see no benefit on my part.

Sometimes I scare myself, with the intensity and depth of human emotion.  And I also scare myself when I choose to ignore it... and it makes me wonder about the importance of that side of things.  And now, juxtapose that with my strength of reason, which is as beautifully and artistically honed at least as much as its alter.  I ask of you, Where do you go, when the rights are all right, but maybe wrong?  And do you trust your emotional, or your intellectual self?  And once you've decided that, what do you do when you realize that those two parts are, in fact, very much one and the same?  Now, add time.

Crazy ol' time.  Good for nothing.  Everything.  Wish you would stand still.  Wish you would get on with it. 

Here we go, Day 214: https://ia600305.us.archive.org/33/items/Improv31512/20120315143403.mp3

Pi.

Happy Pi Day, everyone.

Circles are, first of all, really neat.  But secondly, very bizarre, that they occur naturally.

You, Circle, are weird.  You are perfect, all the way around, and it's nearly impossible for a human to recreate you on purpose, yet you are so integral into our way of being.  Everything about us is about you.  Cycles, all of them, are you.  From where we start, is the same place we find ourselves again at the end of things.  Like that quote... "the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we began and to know the place for the first time."  (T.S. Eliot... you... Ach, I love you... )

And momentum... we find that little push, and then, Circle, physics propels us around you, and we fall back to our beginning, and that little momentous thrust gives us that ride all over again.

And the way we move... all circles.

Comfort? Circle.

Sorrow? Circle.

Laughter? Circle.

I don't think I need to go on... maybe clarify my examples, but not now... another time. 

Circles.  Yeah... squares got nothin'.  Triangles??? There's some competition.  Especially the equilateral triangle.  But if you're talking life and being and creation and nature, Circle's got it in the bag.

So, I was gonna put this neat, little rhythmic thing here, but decided at the last minutes to put this decidedly more weird one instead... I dunno... seems to tell a different story... wonky and wandering.

Here we go, Day 213: https://ia600806.us.archive.org/21/items/Improv31412/20120314152713.mp3

The line.

uh oh...

... I think it would behoove me to not start on a tangent of intelligence and depth right now.

Please forgive me.  It's just that late.

Here we go, Day 212: https://ia700801.us.archive.org/26/items/Improv31312/20120313152649.mp3

okay, okay... so now that Apple says I need to update my phone, I have to wait until all this is finished to get my improv on here.  So what I had wanted to write about earlier today was about my insomnia last night, and the sleep gremlins that stole my rest away from me.  And how the only way I was able to combat them was to pull out my journal, and write.  And I read about all the things that I did and felt a decade ago... and I reflected on the differences of it all, and the sameness of it all.  And I read my last entry, which was, in fact, the very day before I started this whole project.  If I transcribed it all here, it would make incredible sense, and stir poignant interest... most words would be insufficient for what has followed in the past months.  But my vulnerability stops there.  If you know me in real life, you can ask me about it, and I will tell you, and that window is open to you.  But if you don't, then there's no reason to know more.  That's just where I draw my line.  And... good night, then....

Clickkkk!

Lots of things clicking lately.  I know I've written about this before, but I think it's starting to sink in a little better.  You know, the whole classical music versus improvised music thing, and how having one language helps with the other, and principles that appear unique, in fact, dictate universally.

One of the most noticeable changes has been in learning and practicing classical music.  I've been trying to play everything like it's improvised, and in so doing, my understanding of the compositional technique is totally different.  I think it's probably more along the lines of what was going through the composer's head at the time it was all set to paper.  More about motives and gestures, and about what one wants to hear next.  The phrasing is definitely all different, too.  I'm paying more attention to harmonic shifting in a bigger picture, rather than in the moment.  Maybe that's the thing that's happening... more big picture, less raw instinct.  But in a good way.  In a balanced way.

On the flip side, I've really pared down my improvs lately.  It's finally dawned on me, in a practical sense, that my improv will simply not be as complex as the classical stuff that I play.  And I need to stop forcing it there.  I suppose it was in listening to the construction of some Bjork stuff, of all things, that I realized this.  It's music that feels very full, but if I listen for the elements, they're all pretty straight forward and simple.  And I think, maybe all along, I've been wanting my improvs to be complex by virtue: every melody, every chord, every color.  And so most of it just sounded like a big mess.

Anyway, it takes time for these things to be understood.  I'm sure that some day soon, this day, too, will have just been another stepping stone along the way.

Here we go, Day 211: https://ia600802.us.archive.org/32/items/Improv31212/20120312144925.mp3

We go when we...

Big questions, little questions, mundane and important questions.

Bottom line, which I charged upon my friend this fine evening:

Whether you act or not, there are consequences.  And those might be good... they might be bad... they might be... neither.  But they will be.

Life will happen, one way or the other.  And if you want to be an active participant, then... do.

And if not, then... don't.

Here we go, Day 209: https://ia600808.us.archive.org/3/items/Improv31012/20120309150940.mp3

Cycle.

I had to make a midnight run to the grocery store to get eggs for my breakfast tomorrow, and I had a weird compulsion to have cereal for dinner.  Hey, what can I say.  The body wants what it wants.  *nom nom nom nom...*

Other mundane happenings: my daffodils are now dead and gone.  I'm kicking butt in each game of Words with Friends.  I forgot how to say "remember" in Spanish.  (...until now, that is.  Useless.)  Today, I dismissed some cares that just don't matter in the end.  Tomorrow, I am sure I will have new ones.  They won't matter either.  They're probably going to be the same ones, anyway.  And on and on it goes....  Pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal, wipe forehead, take breath, pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal, downshift, pe-dal, pe-dal....

Here we go, Day 208: https://ia700800.us.archive.org/19/items/Improv3912/20120309150940.mp3

Goblins.

It doesn't seem to matter how many times these thoughts pass through my mind.  The bottom line is always the same, and always has been.  That does not change.

The number of times I've contemplated a change?  Innumerable. 

Yesterday, I asked questionable questions.  And today, for a split second, art made me feel disgusted.  Truly!  And it was a very, very strange sensation... how momentary and so fleeting that disgust was, and so powerful!  Not toward a piece of art either, but Art: all of it.  And how quickly, instantaneously, really, it swung to the polar opposite.  I don't even remember what it was that made me feel so disgusted.  I know it had something to do with narcissism, and ego... but I don't really remember the full context of it.  It scared me how, in that flash of a moment, I would have, could have, thrown, thrust! all of my care for art away, with disdain and a mouthful of spit.  I was actually pissed off for a second.  I was looking at Cindy Sherman photographs during all of this, and then it was so sudden that a new feeling came over me, and I was in the world where art expresses us so deeply.  And for the next 45 minutes or so, I was in cloudy awe over how this woman captured humanness so well.  I believed her!  That's such a strange thing to say about a photograph.  How often do you look at a 2-dimensional portrait, and even consider whether you believe it?  And the question is not about trust... it's... I don't even know how to word it.  All I know is, I looked at those photographs and completely bought each one.  They were charming, hysterical, vulnerable, and honest.  Sad and real.  Aside from being meticulously well done.

But anyway, I don't know what had come over me.  It's the first time I had ever felt so strongly (or at all, for that matter,) against(?) art.  And really, literally, only for about one second, before I fell in love with it again.  It alarmed me.  What goblin was that?

Here we go, Day 207: https://ia700805.us.archive.org/30/items/Improv3812/20120308150427.mp3