I have a very dear pet that I've never told you about. This pet can almost always make me feel better. It goes to school with me in the fall, and comes back to Kentucky in summer. Unlike Riley, it smells great. Also unlike Riley, it only needs to be fed once a week, though it grows faster than any puppy or little boy.
I am talking, of course, about my sourdough starter.
(WARNING: This post may contain snobby bread jargon. Readers cautioned.)
I first attempted sourdough bread because Eugene, who is from San Francisco, needed a little bit of home to come to him. I read everything I could about yeast and flour and the ideal conditions (not a dorm room, turns out) before I was brave enough to take that First Step.
The first step to making sourdough is very complicated:
1.) put some flour in a jar
2.) add some warm water
3.) let sit.
Even that proved a challenge. I had to throw out four trials because they started to mold and stink. The putrid smell of my first failed attempts filled my tiny dorm room and made it hard to hide the surprise from Eugene. ("Hmm, not sure what that smell is, guess I need to do laundry today..." "Why don't we meet at your room?") Finally, I found success with White Lily bread flour, patience, and luck. It was like that country song about how every failed relationship that broke his heart lead to finding the perfect woman, do you know that song? That's how I felt about my starter. When I finally had a one that grew, smelled right, and wasn't green, I felt such an intense satisfaction that the I was completely hooked on the project. This was MY starter, and damnit I was gonna keep it and feed it, and we would make beautiful warm loaves together and live happily ever after.
(Later Eugene would offer to keep the starter in his fridge, as I was moving to a co-op. I politely declined. Or I might have said "hell no.")
Today I need to make some bread. I've already taken my starter out of the fridge and given it with some extra food. It is happily puffing and bubbling into a springy spongy batter. I carefully set aside a bit of this sponge to go back in its jar for later. To the rest: flour flour flour (and some Other Stuff). I work it in the only way that is satisfying, with my hands. When it can ball up without being too sticky, it's time for my favorite part: kneading the ---- out of it. The way I see it, if at the end of this process there is not flour all over myself and this table, I have failed.
I don't appreciate failure.
My favorite kneading technique is the half turn palm push. I like it because I can put all of my body weight, all my frustrations and frazzled energy, directly into the dough, and still keep it balled up completely under my hands. Sometimes the dough pops, which is pretty satisfying. I know this loaf is going to fluffy and soft.
F--- these things which I am frustrated with, which I will now transfer to this innocent loaf:
-the rigidity of con requirements (I had a better phrase for that, instead I pound my phrase into the dough. Take that! The table hits the wall with a thunk)
-uninspired job-track orchestra players
-all the math I have to learn next semester
-complicated relationships
-drama
-job resumes and recommendations
-going through the motions
This dough did not stand a chance. I roll my palm forward decisively. I slam the dough down with confidence. I punch it down again with a brash whoop of triumph. With assurance and bravado I sling flour across the table and roll pound chop until the dough is soft and pliable with just the right amount of give. My fingers know when the dough is done before I do. There's a moment, as you're working the dough, when the consistency changes from tough and resistant to perfectly pliant and cooperative. I pinch a piece and demonstrate yet another therapeutic thing about bread making: the predictability. I know that if I stretch this piece of dough out thin enough to see light through it, and it doesn't break, it is ready to rise. Every time. It stretches-it's ready. Professor Darling says its got something to do with stretching chains of gluten molecules, something like that. I like to think that if you just massage the dough long enough it is coaxed into stretchy supple submission.
There are a few things that could make this more perfect, of course. For one, Danny Kaye could be alive in my kitchen, wearing Grammy's green apron and doing impressions of my least favorite professors. While I'm dreaming, Chris Thile can come over and put those nimble fingers to good use kneading the knots out of my shoulders, crooning mountain ballads in my ears.
Almost perfect.
--MANY HOURS LATER--
So guess who forgot that there was dough rising, and let it quadruple in size? Guess who was looking for things to do three hours ago (coincidentally exactly when the bread should have gone in the oven) and now would like nothing better than to sleep? Guess who shot up in bed and dashed to the kitchen in horror?
Yeah, that would be me.
Oops.
So I forgot about the bread. I think I just wanted to knead it anyways, I'm not really hungry. Still, if I kneaded it I want to bake it, damnit! I'm going to try anyways. This could have several consequences:
-I do not get enough sleep tonight.
-The bread is too sour OR
-the bread takes on a new concentrated sour flavor unlike any loaf I've ever made, and this becomes my new recipe. (hopefully this one)
-Mama stumbles into the kitchen for water, sees me still awake, and makes fun of me for forgetting the bread.
-I fall asleep at the kitchen table and burn the house down.
I'm trying to avoid that last one by writing to you.
APPROXIMATELY THIRTY SEVEN MINUTES TWENTY SECONDS LATER
it is ready. I knocked on the bottom: perfectly hollow. Pressed on the crust: perfectly firm, bubbly yet smooth (it will be chewy). I can tell, the way it popped open and spread out like a lily that it's going to be soft and fluffy inside. It smells like heaven. I wish I could share it with you. No one is even awake to appreciate it right now.
Why am I still awake?
Goodnight.
-----------------------------------------------
Simple Pleasures:
-Billy Joel's 'The Stranger' on vinyl
-black coffee
-blooming orchids
-bread making
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
And they're off!
DAY ONE: Airports, Minivans, and Texans, Oh my!
Every time I fly I think about how similar taking off in an airplane is to a great first kiss. First off, it seems like you have to wait forever for it to finally happen. When you start to move you become hyper aware of every nerve in your body. You gather momentum, close your eyes, and no matter how long you've been thinking about it the moment of lift off still takes you by surprise. All the sudden your stomach floats up and you're weightless. You might chance a peek out the little side window and see the world you knew falling away. If you're flying at night, like I was just a few hours ago, you can see the cars and buildings become little pinpricks of light sparkling out of the black as you soar higher. Then when if feels like you'll just float away forever or pop like a bubble, you're back in your body. You're bones flow into the seat and you release the breath you didn't realize you were holding. Finally you settle in, and you're coasting thousands of miles above "g'mornin" and "y'all come back now, y'hear!" You're flying towards someplace new and exciting, maybe a little bit scary, and it's fantastic! Takeoffs are often my favorite part of the journey.
For me, landing is much less like kissing and much more like concentrating on not throwing up on the large man next to me as a baby squeals two rows up because she doesn't like the pressure change. Two bumps and a lurch later I'm grounded, and a soft tired sounding voice crackles on to the intercom. "Welcome to Houston."
Honestly, considering the bumpy landing I just had I'm not too upset that my flight from Houston to Austin is delayed another hour. Now I have time to write to you, and to calm the coffee-salad slush churning in my stomach. It's 9:37 (10:37 where you are, and 7:37 for you), and I am on my way to Adventure, my first ever tour! The Black River Belles take on the southeast this January: Austin, Dallas, Nashville, Columbia, and Louisville. We've decided the tour motto is "kickin ass, takin names." (I kinda thought it should be "love, booze, and other important things" but that didn't have the same ring to it. "Tour" makes this sound a lot more professional than what I think the reality is going to be. Our "bus" is an old minivan, (decorated with window art by yours truly), out hotel the couches, floors, and recliners or our generous friends (and in a pinch the floor of the minivan). We do have roadies though, or at least we have some friends crazy enough to road trip across the country with us. That would be Rue, Danny, Carlos, and Alex.
Oh, I haven't introduced the band! Ok, I'm going to say it just the way Helena always does on stage:
"Allright well, for y'all that weren't here before, we are the Black River Belles, and we're gonna play some music you you tonight (sometimes she says "songs about love, murder, and whiskey" or just "porch songs"). Over here to my right we've got the illustrious Ms. Sara Sasaki on fiddle, from Austin, Texas. Well, clap! (people clap. You can't not listen to Helena). Good. And holding up the low end, Miss Erin Lobb from Louisville Kentucky. (She usually draws out the Lou in Louisville and asks me if she said it right. She never does, but I tell her she did anyway). I'm Helena Thompson, and I hope y'all have as much fun as we're about to. This next one is about murder with a whiskey bottle/spooning/working on a railroad/love in the kitchen."
If my plane ever takes off I will get to see Sara soon. I anticipate an inappropriate amount of giggling and hugging, and I can't wait. What Helena didn't tell you about Sara is that in addition to being a kickass fiddle player, she is also a prolific organizer. She makes the calls, the deals, and the exacting itinerary, and if necessary she makes the Face (the no-nonsense, this is what we agreed to and that's how it's gonna be Face). She is 5 people concentrated into a 5' person (5'1 she'll be quick to tell you. She describes herself as "fun size"). Her knack for details is as exacting as her ear for pitch (she was born with perfect pitch), and though she swears she owns six pairs of jeans, I can't recall ever seeing her in anything but brilliantly colored minidresses.
Flight 1533, that's me! We're boarding now, hopefully they put me next to someone interesting. See you in Austin.
---------------------------------------
Spell check thinks "kickass" is not a word. This is incorrect.
Every time I fly I think about how similar taking off in an airplane is to a great first kiss. First off, it seems like you have to wait forever for it to finally happen. When you start to move you become hyper aware of every nerve in your body. You gather momentum, close your eyes, and no matter how long you've been thinking about it the moment of lift off still takes you by surprise. All the sudden your stomach floats up and you're weightless. You might chance a peek out the little side window and see the world you knew falling away. If you're flying at night, like I was just a few hours ago, you can see the cars and buildings become little pinpricks of light sparkling out of the black as you soar higher. Then when if feels like you'll just float away forever or pop like a bubble, you're back in your body. You're bones flow into the seat and you release the breath you didn't realize you were holding. Finally you settle in, and you're coasting thousands of miles above "g'mornin" and "y'all come back now, y'hear!" You're flying towards someplace new and exciting, maybe a little bit scary, and it's fantastic! Takeoffs are often my favorite part of the journey.
For me, landing is much less like kissing and much more like concentrating on not throwing up on the large man next to me as a baby squeals two rows up because she doesn't like the pressure change. Two bumps and a lurch later I'm grounded, and a soft tired sounding voice crackles on to the intercom. "Welcome to Houston."
Honestly, considering the bumpy landing I just had I'm not too upset that my flight from Houston to Austin is delayed another hour. Now I have time to write to you, and to calm the coffee-salad slush churning in my stomach. It's 9:37 (10:37 where you are, and 7:37 for you), and I am on my way to Adventure, my first ever tour! The Black River Belles take on the southeast this January: Austin, Dallas, Nashville, Columbia, and Louisville. We've decided the tour motto is "kickin ass, takin names." (I kinda thought it should be "love, booze, and other important things" but that didn't have the same ring to it. "Tour" makes this sound a lot more professional than what I think the reality is going to be. Our "bus" is an old minivan, (decorated with window art by yours truly), out hotel the couches, floors, and recliners or our generous friends (and in a pinch the floor of the minivan). We do have roadies though, or at least we have some friends crazy enough to road trip across the country with us. That would be Rue, Danny, Carlos, and Alex.
Oh, I haven't introduced the band! Ok, I'm going to say it just the way Helena always does on stage:
"Allright well, for y'all that weren't here before, we are the Black River Belles, and we're gonna play some music you you tonight (sometimes she says "songs about love, murder, and whiskey" or just "porch songs"). Over here to my right we've got the illustrious Ms. Sara Sasaki on fiddle, from Austin, Texas. Well, clap! (people clap. You can't not listen to Helena). Good. And holding up the low end, Miss Erin Lobb from Louisville Kentucky. (She usually draws out the Lou in Louisville and asks me if she said it right. She never does, but I tell her she did anyway). I'm Helena Thompson, and I hope y'all have as much fun as we're about to. This next one is about murder with a whiskey bottle/spooning/working on a railroad/love in the kitchen."
If my plane ever takes off I will get to see Sara soon. I anticipate an inappropriate amount of giggling and hugging, and I can't wait. What Helena didn't tell you about Sara is that in addition to being a kickass fiddle player, she is also a prolific organizer. She makes the calls, the deals, and the exacting itinerary, and if necessary she makes the Face (the no-nonsense, this is what we agreed to and that's how it's gonna be Face). She is 5 people concentrated into a 5' person (5'1 she'll be quick to tell you. She describes herself as "fun size"). Her knack for details is as exacting as her ear for pitch (she was born with perfect pitch), and though she swears she owns six pairs of jeans, I can't recall ever seeing her in anything but brilliantly colored minidresses.
Flight 1533, that's me! We're boarding now, hopefully they put me next to someone interesting. See you in Austin.
---------------------------------------
Spell check thinks "kickass" is not a word. This is incorrect.
Monday, January 18, 2010
An Organizing Mood
It is a mark of how many cities, couches, and air mattresses I've graced in the last two weeks that as I rose out of sleep this morning I literally had no idea where I was. Without opening my eyes, I took account of my surroundings. I wasn't sinking into a partially inflated air mattress or smelling Mama Ts heavenly southern cooking, and no one was mumbling about giant butterflies, so not Dallas. I didn't hear anyone practicing-no trumpet arpeggios or Bach sonata's from down the hall, so not Sara's house in Austin. I felt like I was in a bed, but Helena's leg wasn't slung over me, in fact I couldn't feel any person-sized warmth on either side, so probably not Nashville. By the time I had run through all the possible permutations of beds and cities, I was awake enough to force my eyelids apart. I was greeted by the bright turquoise walls of my own room in Louisville. Daisyduck, bright yellow with her pink flower hat, stared back at me from approximately where I had expected the person shaped warmth to emanate from. I smiled at her, and at the walls, and the plants on the window sill that my mom has been keeping alive, and for that matter I smiled at my mom, even though if the sun slanting through my windows was any indication she had gone to work hours ago. I was home.
It's been two weeks and five cities since Sara, Helena, and I started on this mad adventure. In all the ways that I'm measuring, the Black River Belles first tour has been a resounding success. No, we haven't made a lot (any?) of money, BUT we've gotten 13 semi trucks to honk at us, Sara has worn all but one of her 23 of her dresses once, we have started a jam session in every city we've visited, we sweet talked our way into the best bluegrass show I've ever seen in my life, Helena has shocked at least 150 people, and the whale joke has been told 7 times. Oh, and we painted a flaming fiddle, crossed bass and guitar necks, a cowgirl in polka dots, and the tour motto (kickin' a**, takin' names) on the old minivan. That sounds like victory to me.
"I was in an organizing mood" says Sara, about how we decided to spend the month of January road tripping and performing across the Southeastern United States. Her "organizing mood" got us gigs in Austin, TX, Dallas, TX, Nashville, TN, Columbia, TN, and my hometown Louisville, KY (and an itinerary that includes details such as "get dressed"). As Helena would say "thank the baby Lord Jeezus!" for Sara's organizing moods. I've had the time of my life, making music, jokes, and "dank" food with some of my favorite people in the whole world.
---------------------------
I haven't had my computer, so I haven't been able to update you in real time. I kept an old fashioned pen and paper journal though, so I'm gonna type up some of those entries here in the next couple days. Pretend like we're time traveling.
Also: I miss you.
It's been two weeks and five cities since Sara, Helena, and I started on this mad adventure. In all the ways that I'm measuring, the Black River Belles first tour has been a resounding success. No, we haven't made a lot (any?) of money, BUT we've gotten 13 semi trucks to honk at us, Sara has worn all but one of her 23 of her dresses once, we have started a jam session in every city we've visited, we sweet talked our way into the best bluegrass show I've ever seen in my life, Helena has shocked at least 150 people, and the whale joke has been told 7 times. Oh, and we painted a flaming fiddle, crossed bass and guitar necks, a cowgirl in polka dots, and the tour motto (kickin' a**, takin' names) on the old minivan. That sounds like victory to me.
"I was in an organizing mood" says Sara, about how we decided to spend the month of January road tripping and performing across the Southeastern United States. Her "organizing mood" got us gigs in Austin, TX, Dallas, TX, Nashville, TN, Columbia, TN, and my hometown Louisville, KY (and an itinerary that includes details such as "get dressed"). As Helena would say "thank the baby Lord Jeezus!" for Sara's organizing moods. I've had the time of my life, making music, jokes, and "dank" food with some of my favorite people in the whole world.
---------------------------
I haven't had my computer, so I haven't been able to update you in real time. I kept an old fashioned pen and paper journal though, so I'm gonna type up some of those entries here in the next couple days. Pretend like we're time traveling.
Also: I miss you.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
On Dedication: Types and Degrees
It took passing 2 jocks in fishnets, a guy riding a bike in neon orange short shorts with matching tube socks and pasties, and a girl wearing a shiny dominatrix outfit (as much as a few inch wide straps of pleather can count as an "outfit") complete with chains for me to remember that tonight is Safer Sex Night.
Definition Time! Safer Sex Night is an annual Oberlin celebration of skimpy costumes, loud music, alcohol, and (often) glitter or pleather (because we love the animals). Oberlin students journey to the 'Sco wearing almost nothing in order to celebrate their sexual freedom.
I might add that I was on my way to the library.
It is currently 31 degrees and dropping.
Questions:
Who is more dedicated?
Does Oberlin hold this event in November on purpose?
In other news, I should be working.
Definition Time! Safer Sex Night is an annual Oberlin celebration of skimpy costumes, loud music, alcohol, and (often) glitter or pleather (because we love the animals). Oberlin students journey to the 'Sco wearing almost nothing in order to celebrate their sexual freedom.
I might add that I was on my way to the library.
It is currently 31 degrees and dropping.
Questions:
Who is more dedicated?
Does Oberlin hold this event in November on purpose?
In other news, I should be working.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I'm not dead.
B is for Bluegrass.
Other things B is for:
-Badass
-B Major
-Blues
-Bass
-Awesome! Wait, no...
I'm not dead. I'm in fact more alive than I've been in a long time. I do, however, fail at updating you about my life. You'll be happy to know (at least I hope so) that the reason I fail at updating you about my life is because it's been so good lately.
Things in My Life That are Good, in no particular order:
-Music
-Friends, bandmates, and friends that are bandmates
-My wonderful pancake-making, hug-giving, sharp-dancing California Honey
-Environment and Society class. Obies, if you have a chance to take this, do.
-Sunshine. Like peekaboo, today I see you, tomorrow it will snow.
Things I know about Hexachordal Combinatoriality:
-My teacher said this word a couple times in music theory class. No one but me snickered.
-This word is too long.
-Bill Monroe didn't know what this was.
------------------------------------------------------------
How the Black River Belles Came to Be -OR- We Were Bored
Me: Hey Sara, you ever played fiddle? Wanna start a band?
Sara: Sure.
Winter in Ohio is a terrible thing. Imagine a LOT of snow that doesn't go away, with no footprints in it because it's too miserably cold to go outside. There is no sun, and everyone is bored. This, incidentally is the perfect condition in which to create a band with your girlfriends.
Black River is actually a creek. It thinks it's a river, so everyone humors it. Many things in Northeast Ohio are named after the Black River and several of them are awesome.
Awesome things named after the Black River:
-Black River Cafe
-Black River Antiques
-Black River Lanes (bowling)
-Black River Pirates (Sullivan, OH high school football team)
-Black River Belles.
So my girls and I started a folk/bluegrass band. It makes me very happy.
We are:
Helena Thompson, on vocals, guitar, beauty, and haircuts
Sara Sasaki, on fiddle, vocals, adorableness, wardrobe, and organization
Erin Lobb, on bass, vocals, and bad jokes.
Places You Might See Belles:
-Agave
-The Cat and the Cream
-Tappan Bandstand
-Science Center Atrium
-Cracker Barrel
-J-House
-Outside your window RIGHT NOW! (haha, you looked)
The Belles are good friends with the Outhouse Troubadours. If fact, Belles love Troubadours so much they gave them a bassist...
Wait that's me!
I also joined an established campus band with some really great pickers and singers to serenade the outhouse. It's a lot of fun:
Every now and then I scream "I LOVE MUSIC!" in complete seriousness and sobriety. At least 7 people agree with me.
-------------------------------------------
Here's a link to download a recording of the April 19th show the Outhouse Troubadours played at the Cat in the Cream (with me on bass!):
http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=7b5bd021150ab69391b20cc0d07ba4d2a6f24f56d5aa9e8d
In Other News:
-I got eggs from under a chicken, and they were warm! She pecked at me!
-The tulip trees are beautiful.
-Thunder Over Louisville was last weekend. Daniel stole me an official No Stopping-Special Event sign. I knew I liked that kid.
-It was great to see my family last weekend. Now-back to work!
Other things B is for:
-Badass
-B Major
-Blues
-Bass
-Awesome! Wait, no...
I'm not dead. I'm in fact more alive than I've been in a long time. I do, however, fail at updating you about my life. You'll be happy to know (at least I hope so) that the reason I fail at updating you about my life is because it's been so good lately.
Things in My Life That are Good, in no particular order:
-Music
-Friends, bandmates, and friends that are bandmates
-My wonderful pancake-making, hug-giving, sharp-dancing California Honey
-Environment and Society class. Obies, if you have a chance to take this, do.
-Sunshine. Like peekaboo, today I see you, tomorrow it will snow.
Things I know about Hexachordal Combinatoriality:
-My teacher said this word a couple times in music theory class. No one but me snickered.
-This word is too long.
-Bill Monroe didn't know what this was.
------------------------------------------------------------
How the Black River Belles Came to Be -OR- We Were Bored
Me: Hey Sara, you ever played fiddle? Wanna start a band?
Sara: Sure.
Winter in Ohio is a terrible thing. Imagine a LOT of snow that doesn't go away, with no footprints in it because it's too miserably cold to go outside. There is no sun, and everyone is bored. This, incidentally is the perfect condition in which to create a band with your girlfriends.
Black River is actually a creek. It thinks it's a river, so everyone humors it. Many things in Northeast Ohio are named after the Black River and several of them are awesome.
Awesome things named after the Black River:
-Black River Cafe
-Black River Antiques
-Black River Lanes (bowling)
-Black River Pirates (Sullivan, OH high school football team)
-Black River Belles.
So my girls and I started a folk/bluegrass band. It makes me very happy.
We are:
Helena Thompson, on vocals, guitar, beauty, and haircuts
Sara Sasaki, on fiddle, vocals, adorableness, wardrobe, and organization
Erin Lobb, on bass, vocals, and bad jokes.
Places You Might See Belles:
-Agave
-The Cat and the Cream
-Tappan Bandstand
-Science Center Atrium
-Cracker Barrel
-J-House
-Outside your window RIGHT NOW! (haha, you looked)
The Belles are good friends with the Outhouse Troubadours. If fact, Belles love Troubadours so much they gave them a bassist...
Wait that's me!
I also joined an established campus band with some really great pickers and singers to serenade the outhouse. It's a lot of fun:
Every now and then I scream "I LOVE MUSIC!" in complete seriousness and sobriety. At least 7 people agree with me.
-------------------------------------------
Here's a link to download a recording of the April 19th show the Outhouse Troubadours played at the Cat in the Cream (with me on bass!):
http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=7b5bd021150ab69391b20cc0d07ba4d2a6f24f56d5aa9e8d
In Other News:
-I got eggs from under a chicken, and they were warm! She pecked at me!
-The tulip trees are beautiful.
-Thunder Over Louisville was last weekend. Daniel stole me an official No Stopping-Special Event sign. I knew I liked that kid.
-It was great to see my family last weekend. Now-back to work!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Illusions
Last night I watched a 3D movie without 3D glasses. The movie was my life. I saw my world in one piece, normal and together. First I was walking alone on a path. As I walked the scenery started to change with increasing rapidness, mostly between different places I've lived or spent a lot of time, like I was inside a television whose channels kept flipping. Sometimes there were other people on the path, but they weren't there for very long.
Then things started to separate. Everything around me dissolved into its double picture the way 3D illusions do when you take off the glasses and look with just your eyes. Everything was doubled, but not just doubled exactly. It was as if there were multiple overlapping versions of the same thing. It was all moving and overlapping and sometimes I could see the insides of things...it was very confusing. Then suddenly I knew. I knew, the way you just know things in dreams without knowing why you know them, that this was the way the world really was. The pieces I glimpsed underneath everything were the real truth, and the togetherness I usually saw was just an illusion.
As I started to surface from my dream this morning I still believed it was real. Before I opened my eyes, I thought I could choose which version I was going to see today.
I couldn't decide.
---------------------
I'm writing to you from northern Ohio. It's very cold, and has been snowing persistently for a few days now. Someone, I don't know who, has made an igloo outside my dorm. Maybe they're in there.
I'm in an orchestra this month. We're playing:
Mahler's 1st symphony
Beethoven's 4th piano concerto
Huang Ruo (an Oberlin alum) Hanging Cliffs
Rehearsal is going well, and even our terrifying conductor seems pleased. The Huang Ruo, however, is a disastrous mess of sloppy writing and painful dissonance. Luckily it's a premier, so no one will know whether or not it's really supposed to sound that terrible (it is) and everyone will be afraid to appear old-fashioned by criticizing it. After the disaster that is Hanging Cliffs, however, the remaining audience members are in for a real treat. The Mahler is frightening, glorious, funny, tragic, and heroic at once. The Beethoven concerto is the sort of beautiful that can only be described in musical form, and pianist/professor Angela Cheng gives her interpretation to each listener like a loving gift between intimate friends. If every audience member does not have a musicgasm by the end of this concert it will not be our fault.
I'm enjoying the peace and quiet in my little northern hideaway. I think I probably have a few neighbors left in the dorm, but I haven't seen them. Sara and I have been cooking up plans and rich food, and are very excited about the possibilities once our singer is healthy again and we've bought more buttermilk. The snow is more pristine than it is allowed to be when 3000+ people live and work here, and the top layer has crystalized and reflects the sun as I look out my window. My bike is frozen again, but I find I don't need or want to go anywhere that a leasurely walk can't take me. I am quite content, and as always remain
yours,
Erin
--------------------------------------------------
For an amusing video of composer Huang Ruo explaining his Great Vision for "Hanging Cliffs," see:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XO1wqQNVPXY
Then things started to separate. Everything around me dissolved into its double picture the way 3D illusions do when you take off the glasses and look with just your eyes. Everything was doubled, but not just doubled exactly. It was as if there were multiple overlapping versions of the same thing. It was all moving and overlapping and sometimes I could see the insides of things...it was very confusing. Then suddenly I knew. I knew, the way you just know things in dreams without knowing why you know them, that this was the way the world really was. The pieces I glimpsed underneath everything were the real truth, and the togetherness I usually saw was just an illusion.
As I started to surface from my dream this morning I still believed it was real. Before I opened my eyes, I thought I could choose which version I was going to see today.
I couldn't decide.
---------------------
I'm writing to you from northern Ohio. It's very cold, and has been snowing persistently for a few days now. Someone, I don't know who, has made an igloo outside my dorm. Maybe they're in there.
I'm in an orchestra this month. We're playing:
Mahler's 1st symphony
Beethoven's 4th piano concerto
Huang Ruo (an Oberlin alum) Hanging Cliffs
Rehearsal is going well, and even our terrifying conductor seems pleased. The Huang Ruo, however, is a disastrous mess of sloppy writing and painful dissonance. Luckily it's a premier, so no one will know whether or not it's really supposed to sound that terrible (it is) and everyone will be afraid to appear old-fashioned by criticizing it. After the disaster that is Hanging Cliffs, however, the remaining audience members are in for a real treat. The Mahler is frightening, glorious, funny, tragic, and heroic at once. The Beethoven concerto is the sort of beautiful that can only be described in musical form, and pianist/professor Angela Cheng gives her interpretation to each listener like a loving gift between intimate friends. If every audience member does not have a musicgasm by the end of this concert it will not be our fault.
I'm enjoying the peace and quiet in my little northern hideaway. I think I probably have a few neighbors left in the dorm, but I haven't seen them. Sara and I have been cooking up plans and rich food, and are very excited about the possibilities once our singer is healthy again and we've bought more buttermilk. The snow is more pristine than it is allowed to be when 3000+ people live and work here, and the top layer has crystalized and reflects the sun as I look out my window. My bike is frozen again, but I find I don't need or want to go anywhere that a leasurely walk can't take me. I am quite content, and as always remain
yours,
Erin
--------------------------------------------------
For an amusing video of composer Huang Ruo explaining his Great Vision for "Hanging Cliffs," see:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XO1wqQNVPXY
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Conclusions
So I'm trying to decide whether or not today was a good day. As you may know, every decision in my life involves lists. Let's take a moment to compare:
Today Sucked, Winter Sucks, Ohio Sucks, and School Also Sucks (and I Hope Tomorrow Is Better, Though I doubt it):
-It snained, slushed, and hit me with ice balls. And it's cold. And grey.
-I lost my ID card and keys.
-Five minutes before class I remembered to do my Aural Skills homework.
-Music Theory and Aural Skills. Must we really? 9 semesters? Really?
-I have way too much to do and I'm stressed out.
-Freshmen Composition Module Concert.
-I'm nervous about a favor I agreed to do for a friend that involves me being hypnotized in a circus show.
-I didn't get to go to the lecture I really wanted to go to on the neurobiology of decision making.
Today Was Awesome! I Love Going to Oberlin, it's So Pretty and Everyone is So Nice! WOoh Exclamation Points!!1!1!one!!
-Snow!
-Sara found my ID card and keys and gave them back to me.
-Freshmen Composition Module Concert (Eugene played Graham's piece)
-I put together my Halloween costume: I'm going to be a Southern Belle! (I think the fact that I'm just wearing the clothes I wore on Derby day last year/what I wear to every contra dance undermines my protests when Graham and Eugene point out that I am already a Southern Belle.)
-The theatre department had a costume sale.
-I got a package from home! Containing: love. (Also a "Someone in Louisville Loves Me" t-shirt, and candy/baking supplies)
-I have a pumpkin to carve tomorrow!
-Swing Class was awesome, we learned the "rock-step down clap step step snap ba-dum."
When I first wrote these lists, right after aural skills, I was going to conclude that the only conclusions I can draw here are that I am too busy. I've since decided that today was an wonderful day. This is because I am now factoring in some pretty awesome wild cards.
Reasons Why No Matter What Goes Wrong It's All Right:
-You.
To my family back home: Hope things are going well, I miss you, don't worry I'll call soon,
love,
Erin
Today Sucked, Winter Sucks, Ohio Sucks, and School Also Sucks (and I Hope Tomorrow Is Better, Though I doubt it):
-It snained, slushed, and hit me with ice balls. And it's cold. And grey.
-I lost my ID card and keys.
-Five minutes before class I remembered to do my Aural Skills homework.
-Music Theory and Aural Skills. Must we really? 9 semesters? Really?
-I have way too much to do and I'm stressed out.
-Freshmen Composition Module Concert.
-I'm nervous about a favor I agreed to do for a friend that involves me being hypnotized in a circus show.
-I didn't get to go to the lecture I really wanted to go to on the neurobiology of decision making.
Today Was Awesome! I Love Going to Oberlin, it's So Pretty and Everyone is So Nice! WOoh Exclamation Points!!1!1!one!!
-Snow!
-Sara found my ID card and keys and gave them back to me.
-Freshmen Composition Module Concert (Eugene played Graham's piece)
-I put together my Halloween costume: I'm going to be a Southern Belle! (I think the fact that I'm just wearing the clothes I wore on Derby day last year/what I wear to every contra dance undermines my protests when Graham and Eugene point out that I am already a Southern Belle.)
-The theatre department had a costume sale.
-I got a package from home! Containing: love. (Also a "Someone in Louisville Loves Me" t-shirt, and candy/baking supplies)
-I have a pumpkin to carve tomorrow!
-Swing Class was awesome, we learned the "rock-step down clap step step snap ba-dum."
When I first wrote these lists, right after aural skills, I was going to conclude that the only conclusions I can draw here are that I am too busy. I've since decided that today was an wonderful day. This is because I am now factoring in some pretty awesome wild cards.
Reasons Why No Matter What Goes Wrong It's All Right:
-You.
To my family back home: Hope things are going well, I miss you, don't worry I'll call soon,
love,
Erin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)