Thursday, October 25, 2012

Fort Wayne Indiana Concert

When I play in Fort Wayne Indiana it will be a program dedicated to the living legacy of Marguerite Young

Parents are invited to bring their children with them to enjoy this pleasant free hour of great music.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

An American Metaphysic

...but hasn't that been already done so many times? as time flows into who knew what the word also transforms and conveys a different substance and a different mode......it is ever and ever different.......that's the point.....now, when you consider the word did not mean as the word means now......the word carried its power of realization in the sound, not in the thought.......

How Do You Define Literature?

an extension of "Coming Through The Hole Into The Panorama"

He asked - "How do you define literature."
She answered - "Literature is an entertainment of words."

He - "Who are these persons of literature?"
She - "Pliny, Rabelais Urquhart, Laurence Sterne, Samuel Beckett, Proust, and Henry James...."
He - "And what about Gertrude Stein?"
She - ...with her laugh, how would you describe her laugh? It was so much more. But of what was it more?......."Oh, what about Gertrude Stein? She was the maker of the Making of The Making of Americans wasn't she? What more do you want?"
He - "You did not mention Joyce....."
She - ......another laugh, near inaudible....."No, I read everything you know......."

That was it, she having signaled she had finished.

.......an entertainment of words. It is a topography of literature then? A descriptive map of the surface?
How does it then differ from a wallpaper?

The question remains a question.
Please feel free to comment.

Coming Through The Hole Into The Panorama

You cannot argue with the heart's desire. This is not an explication of the implications of a language. No. There was this serene pause that you would have to take into account, large long stretches of music, all the internal poetics of his mind, ah, that and even more my dear Transparency!
But we have digressed, gone down or up another path entirely. There was this gleaming glitter which was his mind, this dazzling diamond, this bottomless pool, and who knew that what beyond the corner might not bedazzle with sublime exquisitries sudden turns which must always inevitably take you to scenes lovelier still than those that came before.
What did these tones entail? A sublime sense of peace, a stillness and vibrancy of energy at once.
more anon......

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Dear Anais

Dear Anais
Out of a somewhat chosen obscurity I come to write this book-You have urged the work upon me, and now I must do it or not do it-the blinding vulgarities of reality rush in and scream a stifling "Halt!" yet a soft inner voice whispers "Go on, and do it" while echoic laughter follows, indescribable. Her voice reaches me from some great and interior beyond- "We are writing books..." The plans to bring this to fruition have long since faded, and then they died with her yet the urging has not died and I find myself with this strange necessity...
Time travel.
Snowstorm in a cornfield.
Algodones.
That is all.
More anon....

Notebooking Will Change You - It is a Journey

"Religion is madness given a socially acceptable fragrance. To the seeker of truth this reeks of stench  rather than perfume." The speaker leaned back in his compartment and gazed out the window to the passing landscape. It had been a long journey from Philadelphia to Silver Bow. The mountains he now saw in the distance told him his destination was near now. He awaited a reply from his companion, but she was mute.
Thus we encounter for the very first time in these pages Ludovicus Deepak, Philadelphia lawyer and the concubine Ah Toy who had journeyed all the way from San Francisco to Philadelphia to fetch him. Her concern was with the prisoner, Aloysius Wing, alone in his cell, abandoned it seemed by all. She fancied him travelling by foot in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo range, taking rest while he contemplated the air-conditioned Mother House of the Little Sisters Of The Poor.
"Concubine," he thought, was such a term as was not heard in the circles within which his life moved, but it was the word she herself had chosen when asked her profession. One would have thought she would be exhausted, but her eyes shone with the energy imparted to them by a clearly defined purpose.
He busied himself with the landscape. The moon, a sliver, cast yet a distinct light....
To be continued....