As I have become friends with myself, I have come to the realization that struggle is what I do.

I don’t have ambition, but I thrive on my own passions. I  try to keep their harsh light from shining on others in my life, but it can be hard to do this.

I suspect one of the reasons I am retiring is the lack of challenge in my work. More than that, I suspect the whole shebang to be a bit dishonest, but that’s not that new or even relevant to me jumping ship at this time of life.

I haven’t always been able to escape my own pretentiousness and self pity. But I continue to try.

I have found that church work has lowered  my tolerance, especially for the trivial, the mediocre,  and over-blown.  It’s important to me to stay as honest as possible with myself and at the same time keep these insights to myself.

I look forward to having a bit less of it in my life.

I continue to enjoy reading and studying.

I finished Addonizio’s charming collection of poems, Now We’re Getting Somewhere.

I wanted to link in a couple of poems by her but they don’t seem to be online.

Here’s some exerts.

from Little Old Ladies

Light flashes in our eyes
the vitreous gel detaching from the retina
our skin loosening & separating from our weak little bones

It’s just like a fairy tale, we’re turning into birds—ortolans
about to be dined on in dark institutions

Soon we’ll be pissing vodka in our bedpans
pulling the fire alarm, wandering out into traffic
No one will know about our epic journeys down the hall
sailing to the dining room & back
or the monsters we had to bitch slap to come this far & survive

Ortolans

from Death and Memory

Some people open the cage door & step in with the tiger
deliberately or accidentally…
Either may boost their book sales briefly…which is seldom the reason…
It’s more like a pleasant but unintended outcome…that they can’t enjoy…

(…)

It’s hard to keep thinking of the dead…when they never call or text…
like people you used to be in love with…who said they couldn’t live without you…

Interlibrary loaned The Constraints of Desire: The Anthropology of Sex and Gender in Ancient Greece by John J. Winkler. Published in 1990, it looks like a fun read.

This is the frontispiece.

Its caption is “See how they grow. Woman waters phalloi.” Attic red-figure pelike in the British Museum, E819.

Who knew the plural of phallus was phalloi. A pelike is a vessel with a sagging belly used for holding liquids. …

I did my morning stretches to Praetorious.

Exercised to Modest Mouse’s new album, Golden Casket.  I liked it all but especially this one.

The Heebie Jeebie Girl by Susan Petrone

YA novel that looks interesting to me.

Tate donor warns: ‘I’ll take back my £20m Francis Bacon collection’ | Francis Bacon | The Guardian

‘Lynchings in Mississippi never stopped’ – The Washington Post

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Each shout got louder. The man shouting stood underneath the balcony where I was playing the organ. The service had ended a bit ago. I was attempting a postlude on the tiny, bad  pipe organ.

“Hey!”

I stopped and looked over the edge.

“Would you turn out the lights when you are done?”

I was reminded of this incident yesterday. Despite suspecting that colleagues were present and not necessarily disposed to approve of my musicianship, I improvised a rather clever little postlude.

While marking time until my complete retirement improvising preludes and postludes is so much easier than learning pieces. I have spent my entire life preparing organ and choral music for church services. Often I took great pains to choose and prepare these pieces.

During the plague, I would spend time at church reading through organ music for the fun of it. Most of my life I have made a note right on the music of the time and place of performance. So that the music itself is a record for me to refer to especially when choosing new music. I want to know if I am repeating a piece. I was continually surprised to see how much music I have actually performed.

The closing hymn tune yesterday was the Welsh melody Bryn Calfaria. It is in G minor. I took it a bit under the suggested tempo in the hymnal. When performing Welsh music I remember that I have read descriptions about the stately tempos they are sung in Wales.

The congregation was singing up a storm yesterday so I felt free to vigorously play this hymn. I quite enjoyed doing so.

I began the postlude improvisation on the swell cornet with a repeated riff in the lower register. I moved to the great organ and increased the intensity. After a short bit I brought in the lovely hymn melody in the pedals. It went on from there. By the time I was done I thought it was pretty cool. It was certainly loud.

As usual I pretty much cleared the room with the postlude. During the service, Rev Jen mentioned my upcoming retirement. There was applause. I joked to Eileen on the ride to lunch that  it may have been an expression of approval of my leaving.

I noticed that Eileen was talking to our tech guy. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know what I was thinking.” Apparently after the closing hymn she had shut down my computer which is the camera and mic for the organ. If you had been watching the service online the postlude went away.

As I said, this reminded me of the loud usher asking me to turn out the lights when I leave.