Resuristal.

I've been thinking...

... perhaps in the last twelve hours only... but

... I've been thinking.  First I was thinking about motion.  And then I was thinking about displacement.

... and stream of consciousness.  Filling time.  And what time is.  A measure... and what encompasses a measure.  And a minute... and what encompasses a minute.  And how a measure seems long and then short.  But then a minute is also long and short.  Really, music is so fleeting, and both that measure and that minute happen and pass so without a moment of recognition.

Jesse asked, "Do you feel like you're thinking a lot when you're playing?"

Yes, and then also no.  It depends on the day, it depends on the improv, it depends on my state of mind.  But what matters more is the outcome, right?  Or no?  I've been feeling lately like it's important to have some structure... something to follow to keep things coherent.  And when I'm really invested, there's an unforced "thinking" that happens that keeps me on track.  But if I let myself completely wander, structure usually falls away.  Now, whether that's for better or worse is another thing.

I dunno.  Jesse?

Here we go, Day 108: https://ia700802.us.archive.org/20/items/Improv113011/11_30_113_19Pm.mp3

Stillness.

With absolutely no direction or self-inspiration tonight, I relied on good friend Takemitsu for some musings.  Although not profoundly familiar with his work, the stuff that I do know is wonderful.  Really beautiful.

When I try to do it, though, I end up standing still.  When I'm playing it, it feels very meditative, but when I listen back, I'm usually pretty disgruntled that it is devoid of direction.  It's a little bit frustrating.  But these days are part of it.  The disappointing moments.  They happen often.  And it's when we dwell on them do they create melancholy.  Better to accept shortcomings in their brief occurances, and move on.

Here we go, Day 107: https://ia600800.us.archive.org/30/items/Improv112911/11_29_118_55Pm.mp3

Marbles.

Because I have a million things to write, but not a drop of time before I should rest, here is a poem that I love, by Karin Boye, a Swedish poet.

Yes, Of Course it Hurts

Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking.
Why else would the springtime falter?
Why would all our ardent longing
bind itself in frozen, bitter pallor?
After all, the bud was covered all the winter.
What new thing is it that bursts and wears?
Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking,
hurts for that which grows
                         and that which bars.

Yes, it is hard when drops are falling.
Trembling with fear, and heavy hanging,
cleaving to the twig, and swelling, sliding -
weight draws them down, though they go on clinging.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the depths attract and call,
yet sit fast and merely tremble -
hard to want to stay
                    and want to fall.

Then, when things are worst and nothing helps
the tree's buds break as in rejoicing,
then, when no fear holds back any longer,
down in glitter go the twig's drops plunging,
forget that they were frightened by the new,
forget their fear before the flight unfurled -
feel for a second their greatest safety,
rest in that trust
                   that creates the world.

 Here we go, Day 106: https://ia600803.us.archive.org/24/items/Improv112811/11_28_118_54Pm.mp3

Back.

Today's improv is not worth a flying fart.  And that's honestly what I think.  Don't even worry about it.  It was done in a fleeting moment of home for an instant.  That is all.  Not worth your consideration, not worth mine.  Let's all just enjoy the weather.

Here we go, Day 105: https://ia600802.us.archive.org/12/items/Improv112711/11_27_117_19Pm.mp3

Curry.

Few of us will know the pleasures of authentic homemade coconut curry with Thanksgiving turkey leftovers in it.

Not me, however.  I know this pleasure quite well.

Best with toast.  Really!

And to be honest, it's not really authentic if it has turkey, since such a thing does not really exist in Thailand.  But it is pretty authentic to chuck whatever in there.  So, there you go.  And this time it was just mom and me eating it, so she was able to make it as spicy as she wanted.  SO GOOD!  (Siblings can't take the heat.)

You know what's hard?  Coordinating an asymmetrical rhythmic pattern in one hand with something completely different in the other hand.  I can do it if I practice it, but on an improv?  Lordy.

Sometimes when I improvise, I get concerned that it's riding the line of cheesy.  I should actually write "cheezy," with a Z, because I wish to emphasize that it scares me that much, the possibility of the cheez.  I know Yanni is a super successful musician by commercial standards, but man, I do not want to sound like him.  Not ever.  And, you know, it seems awfully easy to slip into that idiom as soon as one begins to do lots of meandering patterns, broken chords and whatnot.  Fair warning.

Here we go, Day 104: https://ia600800.us.archive.org/21/items/Improv112611/11_26_119_06Pm.mp3

Purpose.

There's been a lot of talk lately about our purpose here.  A big question that none of us will ever know the answer to, at least not until we're long departed from this place.  I've said before that I wasn't afraid to die, but that I'm afraid to not live.  I fear fear itself, and so, in many ways, perhaps I overcompensate by pushing past my boundaries, self-set and otherwise.  I hate to think that fear would prevent me from learning, experiencing, and knowing.  I haven't yet discovered my purpose on this earth.  But I'll be damned if I haven't tried to fulfill it.  I feel like a child, defiant and headstrong.  The moment I'm told no, or you shouldn't, I'm filled with obstinacy, and I can physically feel it.  For better or worse, that's who I am.

I do have fears... most of them are healthy ones.  (Rabid dogs, and knife-wielding strangers.)  I wonder, will those disappear, too, after I've fulfilled my purpose?  And I'm sure the answer is yes.  For reasons undisclosed at the present.

Here we go, Day 103: https://ia600709.us.archive.org/34/items/Improv112511/11_25_115_04Pm.mp3

Thanksgiving.

My nine-year-old niece, Maddie: "I am in complete control of my environment....  Ouch!"

Here we go, Day 101: https://ia600709.us.archive.org/4/items/Improv112411/11_24_119_41Pm.mp3