jupiterjenkins.com

only herald to the gaudy spring

jupiterj — Fri, 18 May 2012 14:01:45 +0000

I’m getting to blogging a bit late this morning. I had two happy emails to answer.

In reply to an inquiry about whether the local American Guild of Organists could use Grace church for practice and lessons in an upcoming event for young organists, Rhonda Edgington emailed me. She is a new local church musician I have been wondering about so it was very nice to hear from her. She checked out my blog and asked if Eileen were my wife and generally chatted me up a bit. I replied with a long winded reply. I’m hoping we might connect up for a chat sometime. Such a breath of fresh air to meet someone locally of her caliber and enthusiasm.

In the other email, my friend and colleague Jordan VanHemert the sax guy, has taken me up on my offer to give him free piano lessons (since he can’t afford to pay). Haven’t had a new student in quite a while, so I really look forward to this.

I had my eval with my boss yesterday.

Man, I am so lucky to work with this person! She gave me rave reviews. I am looking forward to working more closely with the Christian Ed people in the fall. We are planning a Wed evening for the parish which would include a meal, formation and music rehearsals.

Wednesday Addams. Get it?

The past few mornings I have been itching to read some more traditional poetry as well as my beloved contemporary living poets. I landed on Shakespeare sonnets this morning. I couldn’t find any of my copies of the sonnets, so I used this site which I quite like. The title to today’s blog comes from the first sonnet which I read and studied a bit this morning.

After piano trio rehearsal yesterday I spent a few hours on the organ bench. I’m learning a piece by Calvin Hampton that probably doesn’t fit in church. It is a great piece, however! It’s the “Primitive” dance from his five dances for organ.

Here’s a decent rendition (the first part of this video of two Hampton dances) ably rendered by Matthew Mainster.

Also have been having weird attractions to Franck. So I played some of him as well as prepared “Andantino in G Minor” for Sunday’s prelude.

I found a lovely “Offertory” by Andrew Carter (3rd movement of his “Saint Wilfrid’s Suite) I want to learn and worked on that a bit. I’m also eyeing some Walcha and Langlais to learn soon.

Today, I’m thinking of grocery shopping and making a supper for Eileen instead of doing our usual Friday night pizza. She’s trying to change some of her eating habits and since I’m the cook I’m trying to help.

Just about done with Updike’s A Month of Sundays. It’s hilarious. It’s about a Episcopalian priest who is some kind of rehab for failed priests who is writing his therapy out. I have been in the mood for Updike prose since reading so much of his poetry.

Enough. I have stuff to do.

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Retired Party Members Call for 2 Top Chinese Officials to Resign – NYTimes.com

China – Activist Applies for Passport – NYTimes.com

China in the news!

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D.E.A.’s Agents Join Hondurans in Drug Firefights – NYTimes.com

American command squads fuck up and kill innocent people. At least I hope it was a fuck up.

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Occupy Wall Street versus American military might – Opinion – Al Jazeera English

While domestic and international formations influence one another, it’s worth focussing on the interplay between international configurations and locally grounded social movements.

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Trayvon Martin Case Shadowed by Police Missteps – NYTimes.com

Interesting synopsis of a complicated situation.

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Congo – General Indicted in ’03 for Using Child Soldiers Is at It Again, Report Says – NYTimes.com

Child soldiers. What can I say? I have been deploring this for years and have written it into my songs. “Turning children into soldiers and whores.”

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morose a new kind of rose

jupiterj — Thu, 17 May 2012 11:10:45 +0000

I finished reading Modern Life by Matthea Harvey this morning. It’s a charming little work.

Did you know that “smaze” was a word? Harvey used it in a poem so I looked it up. “Smog” + “haze” = “smaze.” It was coined in 1955. All this according to Dictionary.com.

I just ordered a copy of this book. Reading online reviews revealed to me the structure of two sections of poems in the book called : “The Future of Terror” and “The Terror of Future.”

While I noticed Harvey’s heavy usage of alliteration, I failed to perceive that in each poem in the first sections, she used words in alphabetical order from “G” to “S” and in the second section from “S” to “T.” Get it? She is either working her way alphabetically from [F]uture to [T]error or from [T]error to [F]uture, non-inclusively.

I fell in love with this little poem which occurs as the next to the last poem in “The Terror of Future.”

TERROR OF THE FUTURE/9

The teacups tied to strings along the walkway
stayed silent, had no warning songs to sing.
We shook talc onto our tastebuds
and watched the skyrockets, starry-eyed,
until night blacked them out like a giant
malevolent Sharpie. Scouts gathered
in the square and surveyed the Room
For Rent signs. In this and only this did we have
supply and no demand. It was a long time
since anyone had felt a quiver on the railroad.
We argued timetables, regardless,
(I was just glad you were speaking to me).
You wanted to go to the provinces.
I wanted to see the palace. Of course,
given the state of the ozone, we weren’t
going anywhere. We weren’t outdoorsy
anyway. Our anoraks were moth-eaten
for a reason. You said, I am morose, a new kind
of rose. I pointed hopefully at my foot and said
mistletoe? No. You wouldn’t get within a meter
of me. Later, when your lungs filled with liquid,
you might have said love, you might have said leave.
I said I love you too and left the room.
There was no ice storm, no helicoptered-in help,
no Hollywood ending. Just a gasp and then
no more you, which meant the end of me too.

from Modern Life by Matthea Harvey

On Pentecost we are doing a little arrangement of a Bach chorale. I decided it would be a good Sunday to do some Bach on the keyboard. I’m learning the C major Prelude and Fugue from the WTCII (BWV 870) to play on the piano for the prelude. It’s a happy little thing.

For the postlude, I am finally learning “Fantasia on KOMM, HEILIGER GEIST” BWV 651. I remember when one of my colleagues in grad school played this piece on her Master’s recital. Learning it, I am surprised that is relatively easy. At least easier than my Master’s recital Bach piece which was the D major prelude and fugue. I always thought I would learn this piece some Pentecost. It’s time.

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Carlos Fuentes, Mexican Novelist, Dies at 83 – NYTimes.com

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Boston Review — Tania James: The Gulf

Online short story I stumbled across.

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what i did yesterday

jupiterj — Wed, 16 May 2012 11:51:40 +0000

I goofed around most of the morning yesterday since my Mom called and said she was too ill for her shrink appointment.

I picked out hymns for this Sunday and then went over to the church to pick out the Prelude and Postlude. For some reason I bogged down on this. I wanted something that wouldn’t take too much to get ready for performance. I found several pieces I would like to learn but wasn’t willing to dedicate hours and hours this week to learn them before Sunday.

After a couple of hours, I landed on “Andantino” by Cesar Franck for the prelude.

I have performed it in the past. It has a lot of melody and for some reason I found this satisfying enough to schedule it as the prelude.

For the postlude, I landed on “Postlude” by William Mathias. I can’t quickly find a video or online recording of it to share. I seem to like most everything Mathias wrote. I have played this one before and it shouldn’t take too much to have it in good shape for Sunday.

William Mathias, Welch composer, 1934-1992

Came home and grabbed some lunch. Listened to a message from my Mom on the answering machine, then returned her call. She was in the mood to get out so I went and got her.

She seemed to be feeling much stronger than usual.

That was encouraging.

She was in the mood to have something to read.

So on the way home we stopped at the library and I went in and consulted Eileen on some reading material for Mom.

Took Mom back and then came home and made supper for Eileen and me. Cooked up some Chicken Enchilasagna (Tune Enchilasagna for me).

Click on pic for link to recipe

This involved grilling the chicken which was fun.

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Duck Dunn, Bassist in Booker T. and the MG’s, Dies at 70 – NYTimes.com

Also played & acted in the Blues Brothers movies.

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Diplomats and Dissidents – NYTimes.com

Chen Guangcheng, is on his way to New York, apparently to NYU where my quasi-son-law, Jeremy Daum, works. Cool.

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vacation fantasies, finished amis, what i did yesterday

jupiterj — Tue, 15 May 2012 13:36:28 +0000

One of my vacation fantasies was to begin once again to submit my compositions to publishers for possible publication this summer.

I do this because despite everything I continue to compose. And some of my compositions it seems to me might be useful for other musicians, especially church musicians since most of them were written to be performed in church.

So yesterday I spent over an hour reviewing and organizing old compositions and sketches residing on my hard drive.

Later it struck me I should review those pieces posted here, since they would be in some sort of final version. I’ll probably do that soon.

It is both encouraging and disheartening to examine so much work. The sheer quantity of compositions that builds up over the years despite lack of ambition. Sheesh.

Cover of the first edition according to Wikipedia

I finished The Alteration by Kingsley Amis. I found it a delightful if modest entertainment. Nice plot twists, excellent command of language, and lots of fun alt-future touches like a reformed (literally) United States which seems to exist as the only non-Catholic and non-Muslim area of the world.

The last couple of days I have wheelchaired my Mom outside her digs into the sunlight.

This seems to be good for both of us. I think the spring has reinvigorated her a tad. My daughter, Elizabeth, has had the excellent brainstorm to get Mom an Ipad. Apparently she has ordered a pink one with an inscription on it. Grannie (grandmother of her partner, Jeremy – “Quasi-grandmother-in-law?”) took to an Ipad much more readily than some other tech. I am hopeful that my Mom will find an Ipad more user friendly and connect up a bit more with the fam.

I grocery-shopped

and made supper for Eileen yesterday.

She was out and about at work and came home for the meal. She was supposed to leave work early to get a compensatory hour off for an hour worked earlier in the day before the library opened. She forgot and came home at the regular time. I’m afraid she needs more vacation!

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The Mark of Maker’s Mark – NYTimes.com

Booze in the nooze.

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René Magritte’s Little-Known Art Deco Sheet Music Covers from the 1920s | Brain Pickings

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London Wary of Rooftop Missiles Plan During Olympics – NYTimes.com

Daughter Sarah in the U.K. recently wondered aloud on Facebook why so many weapons are needed for the upcoming London Olympics. Why, indeed.

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‘In One Person,’ by John Irving – NYTimes.com

It’s been awhile since I’ve read an Irving novel. Tempted by his latest.

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‘The Social Conquest of Earth,’ by Edward O. Wilson – NYTimes.com

I like Wilson. Can’t tell too much from this review.

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books + church music report

jupiterj — Mon, 14 May 2012 11:49:34 +0000

I am over half way through Kingsley Amis’s romp of a book, The Alterations. It takes place in a reimagined 1976. The Reformation never happened. The Catholic church has evolved into a very powerful institution. Mozart didn’t die young to be buried in a pauper’s grave, instead he lived long enough to write much more including a second Requiem which features in the opening pages of the book.

Despite the fun alt-future/past, the book is mostly about a young singer who is facing the dubious honor of becoming the best singer that every graced the halls of this imaginary world. All he has to do is get “fixed” and become a castrato.

Unfortunately, this eleven year old protagonist is just waking up to the world of sex.

And as his fellow ignorant student says speaking of a renegade monk who continued to pursue dallying with “unchastity” despite certain death if caught a second time: “This man knew all along the penalty he faced. Perhaps the first time he was rash or indiscreet. Not the second time. He preferred the risk of being pulled to pieces to not fucking. That tells us something, yes? We still don’t truly know what it’s like, but we do know how much he wanted to do it….”

I have also been reading Christopher Small’s enlightening little tome, Musicking: The Meanings of Performing and Listening.

This book helped pull me out of my glumness on vacation. Reflecting on my isolation and much different way of seeing music from other local musicians, my mental and physical fatigue dragged me into some cynical melancholy just before vacation.

At first I was interested to reconsider Plato’s cave and understand that Plato also commits the mistake of thinking of music as a thing and not an activity.

I realize that I have thought of music as something to do since the first time I sat down at a piano and began making sounds.

Somehow school did not kill this in me. I think a lot of the credit goes to teachers I had like Ray Ferguson and Malcolm Johns at Wayne State.

Then Small opened my understanding to the idea that the performer or composer is just a part of the entire action of music. Besides listeners, there are dancers, people who make instruments, people who prepare performance areas, in short anyone who contributes to the “musicking.” Small’s ideas enlarge the western concept of music to include all human music making of any kind. This fits me so much better than narrow ideas like academic classical music or popular music in the U.S.A.

Small’s concept is big enough to include these as well. But he is asking some very cool questions. Questions like “What does it mean when this performance of this work takes place at this time, in this place, with these participants?” and “What’s really doing on here?”

These strike me as similar to liturgical questions I have been asking since I listened to a Louie Weil lecture on a tape many years ago in Oscoda Michigan. They are essentially questions that seek more honest understanding than received wisdom allows.

I am consoled that even though I have no living musical community beyond those parishioners who listen and enter in to the “musicking” with me and others, that what I am doing is a basic human activity of making meaning whether I am performing a work composed by others or myself or improvising.

It also helps me understand why I enjoy congregational singing so much even as I struggle with the ideas of believing in a simple religious faith.

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Sunday Music Report

I enjoyed doing the music at yesterday’s service as usual. It helped to be more rested. I was able to just “do” the music and that was fun. I nailed the William Byrd prelude, “The Carmens Whistle.” I did the entire set of nine variations on 4′ stops (sounding up an octave). This is logical because keyboard instruments of the time were actually tuned up an octave. This made them smaller and more portable.

I managed to come up with settings that provided an entirely different sound for most of the variations. The sounds were very soft and gentle in places and were probably drowned out by the sounds of the congregation. But I shrug this off and just play.

The choir did a respectable job on S. Drummond Wolf’s 1945 arrangement of the keyboard piece, “The Earl of Salisbury” by William Byrd. I have loved this little piece of music ever since I heard the Pentangle perform it in the 60s or 70s. I managed to take Drummond’s arrangement and make it a bit more appropriate by dropping his dynamics and doing it faster than his marking of “Andante.” Choir blended well and made good vowel sounds.

I also nailed the postlude, “Galliard” by Byrd. Ray Ferguson taught me a different one by Byrd which I love. I love the way Byrd (and others in his period) are so subtle with meter shifts and excellent interior part writing. What I played was essentially a sort of modern organ rendition of a wonderful harpsichord piece. I register it pretty loud. I thought it came off well.

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Saving the Lives of Moms – NYTimes.com

Fistulas are terrible holes that persist in women’s abdomens between their rectum and vagina and/or their bladder and vagina. They used to be more wide spread but now are a problem in Africa and Asia.

I love the urologist who originally hailed from Grand Rapids and then decided to make fixing these conditions his life work. He has now fixed more fistulas than any other doctor (according to Kristoff’s article).

Great quote:

“People in America can’t believe I left urology to do this, but this is about changing lives,” which is better than “listening to men tell me about the quality of their erections…”

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Vera Hall on the Alan Lomax sitel

Alan Lomax recordings are now online (though they seem to be experiencing enough high volume to make accessing them problematic). I was excited to find so many recordings of singing and conversation with Vera Hall whose recordings I have loved for years.

This is my favorite:

so maybe vacation worked

jupiterj — Sun, 13 May 2012 11:49:05 +0000

Yesterday, Eileen and I packed up our stuff and jumped in the Mini and drove home. I noticed that I felt much more relaxed than a week ago. I hope that my vacation worked and calmed me down a bit, gave me a bit more perspective and provided some real rest. I know I feel relaxed this morning.

I checked out a bunch of poetry books out of the library recently. This morning I read a bit in one that impressed me:

Matthea Harvey is, I think, one of several poets I read about demonstrating in Washington D.C. recently. I inter-library-loaned titles by several of them. This morning I read in her This Modern Life.

At least this poet seems to be keeping a reasonable website (as we used to call them): http://www.mattheaharvey.info/poems/index.html

Anyway, you can click and read or listen and decide for yourself about Harvey. I am dazzled by her ability to come up with excellent images that resonate with daily life. Plus I like her propensity for alliteration.

It seems to occur not in her prose poems as much as poems which she lines out.

On the drive back from Ann Arbor I had all these fantasies about spending my summer sending out manuscripts of my compositions to publishers, finishing my harpsichord and organizing the house (clearing out junk and putting my CDs and books in accessible order.

I almost started looking at compositions the first time I sat down at my desktop yesterday. Fortunately I recognized this as maybe not the moment to get going on that. Instead, I drove over to my Mom’s nursing home. She looked pretty good but sang the same old song about not feeling good (diarrhea and back pain).

I brought her a cupcake from Ann Arbor but she said she thought she shouldn’t eat it. I took it home. Later she called twice and left a message about it while I was at church practicing.

The first message was to thank me for bringing it to her in case she had forgotten (she hadn’t). The second message was that she had changed her mind and she thought she would like to have it. I put it in a plastic bag for her.

While I was visiting her, I booted up her laptop and showed her Facebook pics of Eileen carrying a banner in Wednesday’s Tulip Time parade. I also showed her the pics I put up of our visit to the “farm” of my niece, Emily.

After that, I went to the church to prepare for this morning. Besides the cool William Byrd pieces I have scheduled for today, I spent some time with the Bach organ trios, namely the third movement of the D minor. This is one I haven’t learned yet. Great stuff.

Came home and treadmilled. Went to bed early. Eileen stayed up and watched TV. Today after church, we’re off to the annual Hatch Mother’s day gathering which involves mostly old people (Eileen’s brother and sister and “spice”). I boiled eggs to make deviled eggs yesterday. Still haven’t done more than that. I will also take a frozen veggie burger patty to throw on the grill with the meat burgers in a pathetic attempt to fit in.

Life is good.

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‘The Great Animal Orchestra,’ by Bernie Krause – NYTimes.com

I heard about this guy on the radio on the ride home yesterday. You can get an idea of his work by listening to this:

I’m totally impressed.

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When did music become unimportant? | The Audiophiliac – CNET News

Playing on the question someone asked in the 60s (”When did music become so important?) the writer of this article notes how constant music loses its impact. Sooprise.

Link to related video below about how if everything is the same volume once again…. it loses its impact la la la

Mastering Engineer Greg Calbi on Compression and the Loudness War in Mastering – ArtistshouseMusic

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Crossword Puzzle Stirs Controversy in Venezuela – NYTimes.com

Death threat Crossword puzzles in the news!

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After Fiery Speech, Voting Rights Amendment Is Pulled – NYTimes.com

Very unusual. Senator withdraws amendment after a speech by another Senator.

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Archaeologists Unearth Ancient Maya Calendar Writing – NYTimes.com

I love this stuff.

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Asteroid Vesta Provides Hints of How Earth Came Together – NYTimes.com

and this stuff.

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dream journal

jupiterj — Sat, 12 May 2012 12:12:32 +0000

I dreamed two dreams last night which involved imaginary manuscripts of my own compositions.

In the first dream, I was looking for one. Searching through papers and papers for it. I could remember it. It was a song that involved a simple chord progression and a simple melody. I remember that it was a good one. I wanted to show it to somebody.

In the second dream, I had a music manuscript in my hand. It was one of my more classical attempts. Something about it was clever and subtle. Some sort of reference. Reference to a piece of literature? I handed it to an musician older than me to look at.

Both manuscripts were hand written in ink on manila music paper, the way I copied final copies before I began using software to make music manuscripts.

I woke up this morning in the motel room and wrapped myself in a blanket and sat by the window for light so as not to disturb Eileen’s rest. I finished reading The New World by Suzanne Gardinier. It is a powerful, beautiful and disturbing poem in its entirety.

This is one that caught my attention this morning:

In That Time

In that time the people presided over
what came to be known as The Great Dying
Osprey and herons and hawks were exchanged
for speedboats and paved wooden neighborhoods
Bear and beaver and moose disappeared
for top hats and gas pumps to take their places
the gifts to the seventh generation
included dead fish piled in simmering creeks
tides that bore surgical sutures and needles
horizons heavy with smokestacks and tailpipes
falling on trees as searing rain
The earth was opened for interment of poisons
The sky was divided by lots and sold
The sounds that the wind and rain made together
became audible only in fenced preserves
Unprecedented prosperity
sustained the industries of destruction
the makers of stacks of prison cages
of chairs designed for electrocution
of weapons to suppurate the deserts
and erase waterlines and warehouses of seeds
A banner of that time depicts many children
standing on top of a map of the world
Some smile Some stare without expression
at the thicket of swords hanging over their heads

from The New Word by Suzanne Gardinier

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In Greece, a Vote of Expression, Not Choice – NYTimes.com

Informed look at recent election. Link to a poem in this article:

From the Greek Streets › Manolis Anagnostakis: “are you in favour, or against?”

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Rituals Clash in Brooklyn – Outdoor Cafes Vs. Churchgoers – NYTimes.com

Reminds me of Holland Michigan.

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An Indiana Voter Mourns the Defeat of Senator Lugar – NYTimes.com

Letter to the editor.

Clear eyed comment from an Indian perspective.

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D.S.M. Panel Backs Down on Diagnoses – NYTimes.com

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Game Over for the Climate – NYTimes.com

Another scientist pleas for coherence.

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President Obama’s Moment – NYTimes.com

Good take on the President’s recent same-sex marriage comments. I especially agree with the criticism that points out the necessity of a federal ruling instead of states deciding one by one.

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Roman Totenberg, Violinist and Teacher, Dies at 101 – NYTimes.com

NPR’s Nina Totenberg’s dad died. Sounds like a pretty fascinating family.

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From Beijing With Love – NYTimes.com

Revealing look at behind the scenes spy trades and negotiations on behalf of dissidents and defectors in the 80s and 90s.

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ann arbor adventures

jupiterj — Fri, 11 May 2012 12:57:25 +0000

Finished what I think is the last volume of the Sandman series by Neil Gaiman yesterday. Today is our last day to be holed up in a hotel in Ann Arbor. Interestingly, I have not found it that easy to relax. It has been pleasant to spend time with Eileen, read and play my electric piano.

But I found my mind circling around to things that bother me. Good grief. Poetry helps. More than music apparently. Music frees my mind as I play. Usually I like to hold on to that blank feeling and let the music consume me. But sometimes it makes a space for discomforting thoughts to buzz. If I realize I’m doing it, I can shake it.

As I say, poetry helps. This morning I read in John Updike’s final volume of poetry much of what seems to have been written in the last months of his life. It’s wry and comforting in an odd way. I liked the one he wrote on Baseball quite a bit.

Eileen and I had lunch at Zingerman’s, yesterday. That was fun.

The internet service is at our hotel pretty lousy. I called the desk on the first night and spoke to the remote internet person.

He suggested reconnecting to get the internet. Two days later I have now done this many many times.

I spoke in person to the front desk. They assured me that no one else was complaining about this.

A cursory check online (when I could get it to work) found other complaints about this specific hotel and internet service.

The service never improved although we began to get a sign-on portal. The desk never inquired if I was satisfied.

Needless to say, we will be staying somewhere else next time.

more vacation

jupiterj — Thu, 10 May 2012 11:54:34 +0000

Eileen and I are holed up in a Holiday Inn in Ann Arbor for a few days off. We are glad to have this time. Eileen was confused about how much vacation time she had left and found herself about to lose a week of it if she didn’t use it before the 15th of this month. She immediately began taking days off while I was still in New Hampshire. We left town yesterday after she walked in the parade.

The wifi in the room connects well but still manages to lose internet access pretty regularly. The first time it happened, I called the desk and they put me through to their remote wifi people. The operator advised me to disconnect and reconnect. This worked. Unfortunately, this seems to be necessary every few minutes. I don’t see how being on the fifth floor might exacerbate this, but maybe that is so.

I did download the book I mentioned and linked in yesterday, “Incidents in the life of a Slave Girl.” I read a couple of chapters this morning in bed. I do wonder about it. It seems awfully articulate but I guess it’s believable since the narrator was educated by her first master. I can’t help but suspect a ghost writer.

Eileen and I went down for drinks last night before turning in. We were both exhausted. I’m hoping this time off will give Eileen a chance to rest up. We are planning to go look at the newly birthed lamb at the farm/home of our niece, Emily. But the most important thing is to get some time off together.

I skipped treadmilling last night because there was no rack for my computer on it. I will probably treadmill today, though. Also I think I left my sphygmomanometer at home so no monitoring of blood pressure as well.

Unfortunate because I feel like my blood pressure is probably slowly getting lower.

Well, I have lost internet several times while doing this post, better sign off.

no talent but truth

jupiterj — Wed, 09 May 2012 13:24:28 +0000

I had to rise in the middle of Monday night (2 AM) in order to reassure myself I could get my rental car back to Boston in time to shuttle to Logan airport to catch my flight home. Even though I had hugged my brother and his wife goodbye early the night before, he, godblesshim, stirred himself and hugged me once again before I set off.

I quite liked New Hampshire. Maybe it’s just because it wasn’t Holland MI, but I still felt much more at home there than here. Many people are about my age and look like me a bit. There are more liberals of course. But there are also more bookstores. I ran across a book that began to answer some of my questions about the history of the area:

I found it for nine dollars used at the Toad Bookshop in Keene in the Colony Mill Marketplace. It is elegantly written and is informed from many disciplines. He begins with the formation of the earth itself and moves through 17th century thus ending before any of the other local Keene histories I have found.

I read it on the plane on the way back.

I have also decided that I now have a passion for the work of Suzanne Gardinier.

She combines a literate poetic sensibility with the necessary brutality of being awake in our time.

Click on this to read Gardinier's short fiction "Sacramento" in this issue of this publication

A short couplet in her book The New World struck me this morning.

In this poem Gardinier imagines the real life Harriet Jacobs writing letters as she hides in her grandmother’s house.

“Don’t expect much Amy You shall have
no talent but truth Ever your Harriet”

from “Incidents in the life of a slave girl” book four by Gardinier.

Gardinier footnotes this book to the poems she calls “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl.” Of course it makes me want to read the original (link to ebook of it).

I guess this quote struck me because I get the feeling that many locals see me as a no talent but also that I am mostly reconciled to this and see myself as seeking in my own way to connect to art and life as honestly as I can mostly via music and words. I also feel that part of my reconciliation to isolation is that I consciously choose to connect to the brutality that is the history of the United States (and all peoples for that matter). This roughness seems alien to the very people that either disrespect me or don’t fucking see me.

Heavy.

Eileen and I prepare to bolt away to a motel in Ann Arbor for some more vacation this afternoon.