2002

DECEMBER 19. Breakfast today is canned grapefruit sections. Dinner last night was Trader Joe's fire
roasted vegetable ravioli (I have not been paid a promotional fee by Trader Joe's) with Ragu Old World
pasta sauce (I have not been paid a promotional fee by Ragu, and what's more, "sugar" backwards is
"ragus," and what it is, too) to which I added various spices. Lunch was tomato sandwiches on Lite Italian
bread.
Today I will likely finish my piece for two marimbas, which sucks rocks. That is, the piece sucks rocks, not
the finishing of it. Shun the passive voice! In the meantime, I videoed myself playing "jingle bells" in E
major on my Jaymar toy piano (I have not been paid a promotional fee by Jay Eckardt and Marilyn
Nonken) to e-mail to friends as my Holiday card. A select few (you know who you are) got an additional
card of me playing it in C with my nose on a real piano. Also I made trips to BJs and Trader Joe's (neither
of whom have paid a promotional fee) yesterday for staples.
On Tuesday I brought the Corolla in to the Acton Toyota dealership (no promotional fee) for its routine
15,000 mile service, using a discount coupon from, of all places, CVS (no promotional fee). At which time
I found out that Staples and Trader Joes are soon to be in my own neighborhood, and various other stores
such as Lane Bryant (no promotional fee) are to follow.
Beff's semester finishes today, and she is due home after dark tonight. Tomorrow night we take Big Mike
out for Chinese buffet.
Today's picture is our Christmas tree seen in the room with no lights on. Thus the only light sources are the
streetlight, the full moon (no promotional fee) and the strings of lights on the tree. The box under the tree is
the holiday gift package from my brother in Vermont, which is likely, predictably, to have coffee, maple
syrup, pickled fiddleheads, and Country Cow Cocoa in it.

2003
FEBRUARY 10. Today's guest breakfast is me, last Saturday: orange juice, a grapefruit, 2 eggs over easy,
and toast. And coffee. This morning's breakfast was only coffee, after a very early-morning run to Brandeis
to pick up stuff. Last night's dinner was a can of A Taste of Thai hot and sour soup. A Taste of Thai has not
paid a promotional fee for mention on this web page. Lunch was California rolls from Trader Joe's.
This is the first News posting since I got back from the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (VCCA),
which should delight the almost five regular readers of this page. My return was yesterday, a drive of 645.7
miles that took about ten and a half hours, including three stops. The first task upon my return was to feed
cats; the second task was to take out the snowblower to widen the passable part of the driveway. I am like
that. The third task was, of course, unpacking. There was no fourth task. The fifth task was to deal with a
pile of e-mail. Cardinality and ordinality progress in very conventional ways in this household, which is the
FIRST time I have said that.
The 18 days I had at VCCA (shoulda been 21, but was cut short on either end by weather, etc.) were
productive and very, very fun. It was a grandly fun group of people that got along very well. At the end of
my second week, two of the writers produced a faux-Survivor film that utilized many of the Resident
Fellows. I was involved as The Guy Who Lent Out His Camcorder and The Guy Who Did the Editing on
his iMac. And later as The Guy With the DVD Burner On His Mac. I also took a lot of very pretty pictures
there, from spectacular sunsets and sunrises to photos of the unique red dirt of that area.
Stupidly, I forgot to pack the power cord of my computer when I went there. Getting another one from
Apple proved fruitless, as they shipped to wrong cord, and to my home address. A week later, a bad apple at
Apple used my credit card number to charge some stuff fraudulently, causing me some extra time to cancel
my credit card and fill out an affidavit denying the bogus charges. So Big Mike very nicely FedExed me the

power cord from home, and all was well with Davy's world.
While at VCCA, I wrote a 15-minute set of songs for voice and violin, on texts that Susan Narucki chose,
and a pair of piano etudes. Obviously, I didn't feel like starting a piece for string orchestra yet. Etude #52 is
a Jerry Lee Lewis style rock and roll etude on repeated chords, and when you have that premise you just
have to go for it. Right now, it is time to be making scores of what I wrote when I was gone. The busy work
just piles up.
I am going to have chicken sandwiches for dinner on multi-grain bread that I got at Trader Joe's this
morning. There is a new Trader Joe's nearby in Acton, flanked by a Pier One and a Staples, and I went there
this morning after coffee. Which lets me tell you that a five-pack of DVD-Rs can currently be had for
$14.99, with a $5 rebate coupon. Cost to you: $9.99.
I was pleased to find out that I could use my card reader that I use to read pix from my Nikon Coolpix 4500
like an external floppy drive -- the memory card, 256 megabytes, looks like an external disc to the
computer, so I could use the same card that the camera writes the pictures to to bring files to an e-mailing
computer. What won't they think of next! I could use the disc to store PDF files of the pieces I wrote, for
instance, though the camera was powerless to display them.
Drip is an increasingly needy cat. Now she goes into the kitchen for handouts even when I am not there. I'm
sure she's expecting to find some cat treats that just sort of fell off a truck.
And now for some pictures I brought back from Virginia. The first two are the sunset from my first day
there and the sunrise the following day. The third (remember what I said about cardinality and ordinality) is
a picture of the tall silo in the barn studio complex reflecting the sunset light my last day there. The last is a
closeup of the red dirt on my boot.

MAY 30. I returned from Yaddo two days early after having finished more than I expected, and having
nothing else I wanted to write right away. So I returned with one more symphony, six more piano etudes,
and one more tick bite. Work done at Yaddo is:
Last 60 measures of the second movement of symphony.
Adagio final movement of symphony
Six piano etudes (see list of compositions)
I took about 400 pictures of the place, including the lush wooded grounds as the leaves were coming on the
trees -- excuse, me, were coming onTO the trees -- and the people there, the statues, and the late nineteenth
century STUFF with which the mansion is filled. Most of the month of May was dreary, cold and rainy, and
that meant that the ticks found Yaddo guests (three this week went to the hospital ER for tick bites, and I
was the first of those three) scrumptious indeed. Bernardo, a playwright, got a bite on his arm and has to
take antibiotics for three weeks; Reiner, a photographer, got a tick bite, and I got one on my chest near my
left armpit. I was given two blue pills for it.
The composers there while I was in residence included Andrew McKenna Lee, Anthony Gatto, Brian
Bevelander, and Gabriel Gould. And I was very glad to see old friends I knew from earlier Yaddo
residencies, including Gardner McFall, Greg Djanikian, Tamara Jenkins, Susan Crile, and Tom Piazza.
Personal relationships became intense, as usual, and it was hard saying goodbye to just about anyone. As
for me, I would be giving a big dance party in my studio tonight if I had not decided to leave two days
early.
Amy D's "Conversations at the Piano" in Chicago on the 22nd went splendidly. I did my usual schtick
before the sets of pieces, there was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed audience for it, and Stacy, Joe and David
Smooke came along for the ride, too. Amy played excellently on a less-than-perfect instrument, despite one
of her former teachers being in the audience. We had Thai in Stacy and Joe's neighborhood afterwards. My
only regret was that logistics made it impossible for me to catch the premiere of Mindy Wagner's piano

concerto with the Chicago Symphony. Well, my other regret was flying out of Albany Airport, which has
about as much in it to do as River City.
Meanwhile, there is much to be done here in Massachusetts and later in Maine. Beff followed through on
my birthday present request by getting me a hammock -- where I will be lying as soon as this page is posted
-- and the lawns had to be mowed before yet another dreary and rainy weekend kicks in. The propane tank
on the grill needed refilling, as well, and Beff -- all by herself -- replaced the shower head in the bathroom.
We needed a new shower head because the heat sensing thing on the old one no longer allowed full-length
showers.
An exterminator came yesterday to help rid us of mice. Not sure how we got them, but for a while Bly was
into opening the cabinets under the sink, and now we know why -- to investigate the scratching sounds.
Once we determined that the sounds were NOT being made by a violist, we sent for the exterminator.
Many recording sessions coming up in the next three weeks, as well as two house closings, a move from
one house to the other, and a move of a small truckload of stuff from Maynard to Bangor. Life is full, or at
least full of STUFF. Which is why I'm glad I have a hammock now. I repeat that all able-boded who are
willing and able are invited to Bangor on June 10 to carry stuff.
Several more reviews of Amy's etude disc came out, including Classics Today and Gramophone. See
reviews.
And here are today's pictures, which include the new hammock (Beff put it together when I wasn't
watching), a Yaddo guest "pointing" to a silly painting in the mansion, a statue in the public part of Yaddo,
and a droplet on a flower on the Yaddo mansion's back veranda.

DECEMBER 3. Moments ago, Beff called and began the conversation in a dry voice: "You haven't updated
your website." So now the secret is out. I do this NEWS thing weekly partly for my own ego, partly for the
entertainment of you, dear reader, but mostly so that calls from Beff begin, "Hi, it's me." Which is actually
inaccurate: even being on the Do Not Call list, all the charities with their hands out and EVERY company
with whom we've done business feel free to call at all hours, and whenever I calculate that THIS call must
be Beff, I always guess wrong. No panacea, this Do Not Call list. Note to exterminator who got rid of
mouse last spring: try your best not to leave scripted messages about the dangers of ladybug infestations
this time of year on my valuable answering machine tape. But, oh dear, I seem to have gone rather far
afield. Usually what Beff says when she calls (radiated around the house from a tinny speaker) is "Oh,
Davy ..... Davy ..... DAYYYY-VEEEEE. ..... Are you there?" If I'm gone, I get to hear that all later,
followed by, "...... hmmph. I guess you're not there. Well anyway."
Breakfast this morning was a big coffee from South Street Mahkit and a blueberry muffin. Lunch was a
tossed salad and Buffalo wings at the brick oven pizza place in town. Dinner will be something using
mesquite grilled chicken -- sandwiches, for instance. Last night's dinner was a large bowl of Trader Joe's
miso soup and a bunch of pepponcinis and jalapeno-stuffed olives, as I was improvising before going into
Brandeis for a concert. More on that later, if I remember. LARGE PURCHASES for the week included
lunch for four at the Korean restaurant in town, MFA tickets, Norton Antivirus for Mac, and a bunch of
stuff at Filene's Basement, as will be detailed below.
Last Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, I was waffling as to whether I would take a Logan Express
bus in to meet Stacy and Joe at the airport, or drive in. News reports in the late afternoon spoke of amazing
travel crushes going north and west from early in the day. But by 5:00, the Massport website reported
smooth sailing into and through the airport, and I decided to drive -- thus spending $17 in parking and tolls
instead of $44 in parking and bus tickets. The hour and a half drive I expected took 40 minutes, and the
airport was virtually deserted -- leaving me plenty of time to walk from terminal to terminal and try to
ignore the incredibly bad muzak coming from the speakers everywhere (oboe is the wrong instrument to
play the melody in California Dreaming. I mean, really). Stacy and Joe took ATA, an airline which barely
registers a blip on the Logan Airport website, and which, as it turns out, has its very own ONE gate at

Logan Aiport terminal B. It was easy to find them, and the drive home was a breeze. And we had beer.
Thanksgiving went as planned, and over time the thrice chocolate cake was inhaled by our guests. We
dispensed with the turkey leftovers by Saturday morning, thankfully (which means we threw them away).
Stacy took a bunch of arty shots of the stove and the bushes in the backyard with the digital camera (some
of which might show up below) while I was cooking. And hey, frozen Trader Joe's asparagus turns out to be
pretty good. Friday we commuter railed into Boston to do Filene's basement, the MFA, and Legal Seafoods.
Filene's was having a special scratch ticket promotion wherein you were given one when you entered the
basement which would give you a random discount at the register if you purchased by noon. Beff and I
chose a black dress shirt, a gray dress shirt, a hooded sweatshirt type of thing, and a new bathrobe for me,
and our scratch ticket yielded a 25% discount. Meanwhile, Stacy bought socks. At the MFA we saw
furniture, Egyptian and Asian art, and musical instruments. And at Legal Seafood I got the wood grilled
tuna meal. Saturday we took a tourist type visit to the big graveyard in Concord, and then shopped a bit in
West Concord, after which we dined on Korean, and I took them to the airport.
The teaching week was short and barely head hurty at all -- last day of classes was yesterday, though I went
in today to teach makeup lessons. In theory, we decided on Monday as bowling and pizza day, I played
some Mozart as sonata form archetypes, and then made them listen to modern music -- mine. In
orchestration we watched some Looney Tunes shorts to identify the orchestration. And in case any reader
thought they sensed the sky falling, yes, Maxwell came to his lesson at his scheduled time for the SECOND
week in a row! Yesterday I got in early to make a full-size copy of my Dream Symphony onto good paper
in order finally to send it to Mario Davidovsky, whose 70th birthday it celebrates. If "celebrates" is the
appropriate word here. After three good lessons, I drove to Staples on the corner of Routes 9 and 27 in
Natick to get a large size binding for the symphony, and waited rather a long time, as a very nice guy was
very meticulous about lining things up. And then I mailed the score to Mario from the Stow post office,
after checking with the bowling alley that they would be open next Monday afternoon. (they will be: in
fact, in a composition booklet that they seem to use for scheduling, they wrote in "Rakowski. 3:30. 8-10
students" in the middle of a sea of white space)
And last night I went to the student chamber music concert, music by Poulenc, Schubert, Wolf, Schumann,
and Debussy. Yes, every one of them dead, but some of them for longer than others (for instance, did you
know that Schubert has been dead 1,225 dog years?). Incredibly, every performance was very good, some
moreso than others. It's nice to find out that our undergraduates can actually play, and sing. I told someone
that the Poulenc songs sounded like "Faure with a headache," and I had to explain what I meant by that.
Whatever happened to self-congratulatory, witty repartee?
They that make weather an inexact science are making the forecast for this weekend extremely inexact. The
forecast has ranged from light rain to light wintry mix to Snow/Rain to Snow/Wind to (the current) Snow
Showers for Saturday and Snow/Wind for Sunday. Problem is, that's the time of the Women Composers
Festival at Brandeis, and I am obligated by duty to hear the graduate student concert on Saturday afternoon,
and also the "gala" concert on Saturday evening, on which the composition contest winners' pieces are
played -- and I know them both. In fact winner Ellen Harrison -- whom I know from the MacDowell
Colony in 1995 -- plans to stay with us Saturday night. If there is a big storm, all bets are off. Plus, there is
the issue -- rather soon in the season -- of Beff being able to drive back to Maine on Sunday. So the high
temp went from upper 50s on Friday to 23 yesterday. I SO desperately want to teach in Florida until I
remember there's no culture there and a Republican governor. Or in California, until I remember the
government is broke, energy prices are skyrocketing, and a cartoon character who is also a Republican is
governor. Or in Arizona until I remember that our house was built before it was a state.
Bly continues to act strange, weird, and pathetic. How does a cat who craves no attention deal with being
the center of it? Oh my goodness, I just wrote a poem. He comes in early now, and meows pathetically
about who knows what. And he is so often in SCRATCH MY CHIN OOH I LOVE THAT AAGH GET
AWAY FROM ME mode. But then again, that's always been normal for him.
Beff's electric shovel arrived. We shall see if it is useful for her. I have my doubts.

Friday I take the Corolla in for the 30,000 mile service, and in the morning I see Seungah for a dissertation
consultation. Then Beff gets home around lunch time. Meanwhile, I shall take the opportunity tomorrow to
get the pizza ingredients. More and more, students seem to marvel that someone can make pizza from
scratch -- ten years ago, I always made pizza for my undergraduate classes at Columbia, where the response
was, "made from scratch? Cool!" instead of "made from scratch? You can still do that?"
REALITY CHECK my theory students were, mostly, born the year I started doing crappy work for
Educational Testing Service after graduate school, and also the year I wrote the first movement of
SLANGE. Oy.
Today's pictures begin with Stacy and Joe at breakfast on Saturday morning -- that is a flexitone that
appears to be growing from Joe's head. Next, a stove picture and an asparagus picture, both taken by Stacy,
on Thanksgiving day. Next, Bly sleeping on the couch as a prism shines on him, and a detail from a
gravestone in Concord. Finally, a 360 degree pan of the Concord graveyard, flattened.

2004
FEBRUARY 5. I did not have breakfast this morning, not even coffee. Lunch was not until 3:35, a lovely
tomato, pepperoncini and nonfat cheese sandwich on Milton's Healthy Multigrain Bread, with Hellman's
Fat Free Mayonnaise. I had been looking forward all day to this sandwich, and I was right to do so. Dinner
last night was Trader Joes miso soup and various snacky things (including THREE Smak sour pickles,
leaving me with but one from my New Years Day stash from Kate and Lee); lunch was a small turkey sub
from Cappy's down the hill from the music department. LARGE PURCHASES an HP laser printer at
Staples for Beff's office, $200 (the Epson printer that came free with the iMac is no longer any good), and
$200 worth of scores at Yesterday Music (Schumann, Ravel, Brahms, and Ligeti) -- this includes a nice 10
percent discount on one of the Ravel scores because there was a crease on the cover. Way to go, Yesterday
Music. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Frank Sinatra singing "Love and
Marriage."
Easily the event of major size during the week was gearing up for the Dream Symphony performances.
This incuded driving to Merrimack College in North Andover on Thursday for a rehearsal, training in for a
Jordan Hall rehearsal on Friday afternoon, Driving to Merrimack College again on Saturday, and actually
driving in and paying $17 (the "event" rate) to park next door to the Conservatory. Yes, my Dream
Symphony is half an hour long and has lots of notes, and Susan Davenny Wyner did a fantastic job with it.
As did the orchestra. Sunday in Jordan Hall was, at times, thrilling. I still haven't decided to like this piece
yet -- too much slow stuff, a few things that should take off compositionally that don't seem to. Though I do
think that most of the last movement is gorgeous, and was gorgeously played. For both events, Susan and I
had to talk to a pre-concert audience -- about 30 in North Andover, and about 20 in Jordan Hall, and we
both delighted at the circular logic we were able to bring forth concerning the music. At the Jordan Hall
dress rehearsal, Beff noted "sure would be nice to hear a trumpet now, wouldn't it?" Surprisingly, or
unsurprisingly, the big motive of the whole piece is an all-interval tetrachord. And MOST surprisingly,
there were two Theory 2 students at the Merrimack concert. And less surprisingly, there were graduate
students (Ken, Hillary, John, Maxwell, Jeremy) at the Jordan Hall concert who bit their lips and said they
liked the piece (not necessarily both on the same day).
And one of the second violinists of the group is someone with whom I used to work in the NEC library in
our student days. Not to mention, Josh Gordon plays cello in the band, too.
Before the Saturday night pre-concert talk, Beff and I did a leisurely dinner at Bertucci's, right next to the
Merrimack College campus. We both had fish! For the dress rehearsal, I had been given directions to the
college's campus, but no indication which of the 50 or so buildings was the Rogers Arts Center. Keeping in
mind that it was 10 degrees with 30 mph winds, I frantically called the NESE office for directions to the
building, which would have been more helpful if I could have heard them over the chattering of teeth. After

the Jordan Hall rehearsal, Beff went to P.F. Chang's restaurant near the Boston Common, sort of to relive
our original experience of having discovered it, after going to a Beer Fest, at which time we were totally
plastered. We remembered that they make you a spicy sauce at your table, which is an inducement to get
you to order dumplings or other food that is spicy sauce friendly. This time, without the haze of beer
samples, the sauce was less amazing, and it reminded me of the Sun Bird Kung Pao sauce you can buy in
packets -- hey, we can make it at home! Nonetheless, the food itself was excellent. It was disappointing to
discover that the restaurant is a chain, though. You can get all the same stuff in Seattle, for instance.
Another event in the week was the Ceely BYE! concert, also in Jordan Hall (24 years since my graduation
from NEC and nothing of mine is performed in that building -- until TWO performance three days apart ...
grumble, grumble), on which Mac Peyton also performed my "Beezle Nose." An ice storm made driving
treacherous enough that I opted to stay home instead of die, die, DIE on a slippery twisty road. I heard from
both Yehudi Wyner and Lee Hyla that the concert was a tremendous success. Lee also said that he though
the quote from the Carter Second Quartet in Beezle Nose was obvious. He got the Schoenberg Opus 19
quote, too. I know of few music students now that would get both of those quotes. Which means that we
have been remiss in passing down the torch and the ritual giving out of buttstix. Memo me on that, and
we'll have a meeting.
Thankfully, we are at the end of the variations unit in Theory, and move on to writing a song next week.
The best thing about next week, by the way, is that it is followed consecutively by a week of vacation. In
class on Monday, I amused myself to no end, enough so that I still crack up thinking about it. Beginning by
admitting you had to be there, I will tell the story. Of which I have yet to tire. As I was reading through one
student's variations, I remarked that a certain passage reminded me of Bruce Hornsby. He said it was a
barely competent banjo transcription. So I said, "then, it's Bela Fleck?" The student nodded. Another
student said, "well, for banjo players, who is there besides Bela Fleck?" Then, in one of my patented surreal
responses in which something comes out of my mouth before it has registered with the synapses in my
brain, I said, "well, there's Popeye." Stunned silence. "Not Popeye the cartoon chracter. See, it's this other
Popeye..." Having had to be there is what you are.
The Stoeger check arrived, and I had it in my pocket all day Monday before depositing it. Nobody noticed
that I was carrying a lot of money, and apparently I didn't look any different. The Brandeis web page
announced it, and sent a press release to the local media. Today there is a note about it in the Boston
Herald.
So Yehudi delivered me CD-Rs of the Dream Symphony performances and, alas, they were all staticky. We
don't know whether the CD-Rs were bad, Susan's duplicating machine is bad, or the driness of the air is a
factor. So I went to Susan's house today, captured the originals onto my Powerbook G4 (thanks, Dinosaur
Annex), made her a duplicate copy of all of both concerts, and went merrily on my way. The sound quality
is quite good when there is no static, and listening to the adagio movement occasionally gives me the idea
that I am, indeed, a composer. That is, unless you ask the Boston Herald critic, whose review is now on
Reviews 3.
As is almost always the case when I type these things, the Weather Bug icon is flashing at me, yet again.
We have another Winter Weather Advisory for Friday and Saturday, this time for 3-5 inches of snow to be
followed by sleet, ice, and rain. Another slopfest! It will be a nice day to be stuck inside, and so I will be.
Tuesday night's storm was a big slopfest, too, though briefer. Early on Wednesday morning, I got up, the
moon was out, and I was going to shovel the slop. Which turned out to be snow with sleet on top of it, with
ice and rain on top of it all. And the shovel could penetrate none of it -- though the sound of me trying was
louder than any orchestral tutti I've ever heard. So the front walk is an icy disaster right now, and I can't do
anything to fix it -- anal as I am about having a bare walk and a bare driveway. Luckily we don't have the
kind of mailman that threatens nondelivery when walks get slippery.
The reason I had no breakfast and an extremely late lunch today is the extreme busy-ness of the morning
portion of our program. I woke up early, but not as early as usual, and drove to Brandeis (I covet the
parking spot). In my stupor, I forgot to take out the garbage (I usually leave it out overnight, but wind was
forecast). I read the paper at Brandeis and took the 8:24 train to Porter Square, hopped on the Red Line, and

hoofed it to 125 High Street. There, I went to the 19th floor and made our Tax Year 2003 Roth IRA
contributions (doesn't qualify as a large purchase, since we actually keep the money). From there I hoofed it
to South Station, rode the Red Line to Andrew Square, and found, for the first time in my life, the Boston
Deli and Market on Boston Street in South Boston -- a small, unassuming place cozied up next to a PolishAmerican Club (or something like that) that has a few generic market items, a cooler with some Coke,
makes sandwiches, but importantly, HAS A BUTTLOAD OF SMAK PICKLES for sale. Lee Hyla gave me
directions on how to get there (easy!), and I got five jars (picture below). After that, I took the Red Line to
Porter, and hung out a little while at Yesterday Music in the Cambridge Music Center, where I picked up a
score I had ordered, and needed to pass some time, so I bought some standards -- including the first book of
Ligeti etudes. (I fully expect Gyorgy to go out and buy my first book now -- it's much cheaper, and
considerably thicker). Picked up some exotic foods at White Hen Pantry in Porter Square. Got some miso
soup at the Japanese supermarket near Porter Square (three varieties!). Had a conversation with Palle
Yourgrau (Brandeis philosophy professor I know from the Consilience seminar) about music (he's getting
into Prokofiev and Shostakovich -- one outta two ain't bad), and then went to Susan Davenny Wyner's
house to get unstaticky recordings of the Dream Symphony. And drove back home, gave Beff her phone
message, etc. The rest is history.
Beff has secured us a summer rental on Moose Pond in Maine for two weeks at the end of June. After said
rental, it is likely that we will stop being cat-free.
Beff is now considering sliding sideways in her career to a job much like the one she has now, except that
it's much, much closer, at the U of Rhode Island. They are interviewing her soon, possibly as soon as next
week. Which is the only thing that would have gotten her down here next weekend -- she has to stay this
weekend for various reasons, not the least of them a production of Much Ado About Nothing, for which she
wrote incidental music. The only advantage to the job is at least five hours of driving per week chopped off
her schedule. Disadvantage: higher cost of living. Advantage: closer to actual culture. Advantage: closer to
actual husband.
Today's pictures: the new Smak five-pak (one of the jars seems to be sliced-up pickles, presumably for a
salatka (salad?)), of which I am very proud. Under that, the other stuff on the kitchen table, including a
make-your-own-hot sauce kit that the beer night denizens gave us a week ago Friday and a bouquet given
me by Bronika and Larissa Kushkuley at the Dream Symphony performance (Bronika is 16 and a full-time
NEC student; when she was 13 I gave her two years of composition lessons). Then, an ice crust closeup
from the front steps, and the unperfect can't-clear-it-off front walk.
Click on the link below the pictures to hear the last four minutes of Dream Symphony.

SEPTEMBER 17. Breakfast today was Morningside Farms meatless tofu breakfast sausages, orange juice,
decaf coffee, and Shaws hash brown potatoes. Dinner last night was lasagna, garlic bread, homemade
chocolate ice cream (I ate too much of it) and a little Chianti at Big Mike's. Lunch was Buffalo wings, curly
fries and salad at the Chicken Bone Saloon in Framingham, with Beff, as we watched CNN's Hurricane
Ivan coverage without the benefit of sound. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week were new Michelin tires
for the Corolla, $514 installed and balanced, repaired blower for the Camry plus an oil change, $97, HP
inkjet printer plus cartridges for Beff to take to artist colonies, $189. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Red's White and Blue March" by Red Skelton. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE after "Persistent Memory" was performed by Orpheus in Carnegie Hall and I ran up on
stage to acknowledge the thunderous applause, I walked to backstage, rather than to my seat, to see if I
could get a curtain call. Orpheus would have none of that, and they got up and started walking off before
the applause stopped. Thus, stranding me backstage while the next piece was set up. I tried to sneak back to
my seat via the edge of the stage, but when the audience saw me, they applauded again. I felt sheepish and
tried to ignore them -- which was rude. Apparently I should have gratefully acknowledged the applause.
Boy, was my face red that day! TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 48.4 and 76.6.
RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4 (countless more

promised: it's Guggenheim and Rome Prize season, people). DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Big cans of
tuna for cats at Trader Joes for 35 cents. MUSIC NEWLY TRANSFERRED TO MY IPOD is none. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why do people turning left feel they have to veer right first, thus making
it impossible for other drivers to get by? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include homemade
salad dressing, Polish Farms pickles, Buffalo wings, and sugar free popsicles. NUMBER OF FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY LAST
REAL COFFEE: 40. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 19. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a festering piece of fecal matter, the Vice President
-- but I repeat myself.
Dear reader, I type to you on the second day of Rosh Hashana, which is a Brandeis holiday for students and
faculty but not for staff. This affords me a well-timed four-day weekend, thankfully while Beff is actually
in residence in Maynard. We recently realized that Beff has the potential to tie my colony-hopping record
this year, but will probably not. She is going to Yaddo for October, the Copland House for November, to
Ragdale in the spring, and also to a colony in Costa Rice in April. Those of you with pocket protectors have
counted four residencies. The MacDowell Colony called her and offered her a monthlong residency
spanning December to January, which she declined. If she had said yes, it would have matched my five
from my second year at Columbia: VCCA (six weeks), MacDowell (seven weeks), Djerassi Foundation
(six weeks), Yaddo (five weeks) and Bellagio (three and a half weeks). I think I win on the amount of time
spent away from home. The difference was that in 1990-91 we actually lived together year round. Well, and
owned only one car, and my salary was a lot lower, and I composed slavishly using motives. And we had
yet to buy our first new car, or house. Uh oh, nostalgia ain't what it used to be.
Being as I've got the four-day splidge (a new word I hope soon to enter the language), we are doing
consecutive "non-Chair" days. Beff recently credited me with the non-Chair day concept, but it is wholly
her own. The non-Chair day being a chance to be not responsible for everything, and to do fun things, and
to go places where there are no people I've never heard of to make demands on my time and my
department's budget. So yesterday -- a predicted nice day which turned rainy -- we hopped over to the
Toyota dealership for 7:00 appointments for BOTH our cars and I got new Michelin tires (thus making it
far less likely that I will squeal when taking corners, will spin out when I start up after paying a toll or that I
will fail my December inspection). Beff, meanwhile, had to get an oil change and get the blower on her
Camry fixed, as it would only blow at the highest setting. While waiting for our service, we hopped over to
BAGELS PLUS just down Great Road in Acton, where I had the egg on bagel (bland) and Beff had a bagel
with lox spread. Our cars were ready by 7:50, so we then hopped over to Staples -- next door -- to shop for
a compact printer for Beff to take on her colony hop. We chose a small HP inkjet and also got extra
cartridges. On the way home we stopped at Donelans to get wine for dinner at Big Mike's and to get other
staples, including a new discovery: we got seven Snapple Green Tea With Limes. We were home and at
work (or at least setting up Beff's printer to see if it worked) by 8:30. Luckily, today we were just about
getting out of bed around then. Thank you Rosh Hashana.
Last weekend Beff was in Vermont tending to her father, as it was sort of her turn in the cycle. She got back
at dinner time on Sunday (we had chicken sandwiches). But I took advantage of THESE non-Chair days to
see if I could write something simple, or at least short. So I started another piano etude, this one on a pedal
B. Over Saturday and Sunday I cranked out 60 bars of music, about double my usual artist colony rate (I
must have been desperate), and am thinking the piece will end up with around 85 to 95 bars. I plan on
finishing it today (which, yesterday, was predicted as a washout and today is predicted as mostly fair) or
tomorrow, depending on how non-Chair things stack up. Possible titles in the mix include On Time and B
(please tell me you know of Heidegger), All That You Can B, B (My Little Baby), and Let It B. Dear
reader, you may vote or provide yet a different title (after all, Rick Moody came up with Menage a Droit
two weeks after I finished my right hand piece and I used it), but I may have already settled on a title by the
time you vote.
It is five days to Beff's birfday. It is next Wednesday, and she will be returning from New York on that day.
The day before she goes to a reception for Copland House Fellae, of which she is a jolly good one.
The next thing that happened with yesterday's non-Chair day was a return engagement to the Chicken Bone

saloon in Framingham, which we caught this time at the lunch rush, at which time it was packed. We got
exactly what we got before -- wings, salad, fries, ice tea, a bloody Mary -- and like before watched CNN
hurricane coverage without sound. Yes, we watched both Ivan and Charley in the same gastronomic
context. We are, if nothing else, consistent. Several blues tunes played on the jukebox while we were there,
and I made a controversial comment: Blues to me is what modern music must be like for most people. All
the tunes sound the same to me. Then I made the logical leap to committed scotch drinkers: they know the
nuances of single and double malts, whereas to me it's just firewater that makes me gag. So maybe Boston
Musica Viva can use my new slogan for their next season brochure: MUSICA VIVA PRESENTS
FIREWATER THAT WILL MAKE YOU GAG. IN ALL ITS EXCITING SINGLE- AND DOUBLEMALT GLORY. By the way, it's no secret that I consider Musica Viva's programming pretty appalling. And
not just because they never do my music. Okay, because they never do my music.
The weather actually looks pretty nice this morning, so we are thinking of strapping the bikes on the back
of the Camry and doing the part of the Minuteman path that was earlier closed off to us (because of a major
road cutting it off and a tunnel not yet built). So if you hear me raving about the Paul Revere Capture Site,
we managed to get there.
Big Mike has a nice condo in Hudson, and we went there for dinner last night. His lasagna was exemplary,
and of course laden with cholesterol, and was served with Italian sausage and garlic bread, and just a few
spoonfuls filled me up. This did NOT keep me from having three helpings of his homemade chocolate ice
cream. I was happy to have Lipitor to come home to. Admirably we listened to his stories of how he, and he
alone, did some work on the floors in his place (I'm not a tile guy). We also marveled how the speed bumps
at his condo complex are concave rather than convex, as if mirror images. Or weird performance art pieces.
Tonight the being entertained continues, as we see Lee and Kate for dinner, and Kate will cook. We are
bringing beer as our gift and my string of beerless days may be on the ropes. Unless I see the wisdom of a
nice subtle red wine. We will be getting in quite late tonight, and what it is, too.
Perhaps the highlight of the week was something of a Supplementale on Monday night. Beer night looks
like it has disappeared into the ether, or at least the version we used to have where Jeff Nichols would say
he was coming but fail to show up, where David Horne would drink far too much and hang his mouth on a
glass at the end of the evening, where Josh Skaller would break ketchup bottles, and where Bernard Rands
would steadfastly order Shiraz instead of beer. President Jeffy is ensconced in Queens, President Horne has
been in England for three years now, and President Ken has full-time teaching at UMass Dartmouth (not an
Ivy League competitor, mind you), which is so far away from Boston as to make the old regular meetings
very inconvenient. Perhaps some new generation of frolicsome lads will take the gauntlet and continue the
tradition of Noche Cerveze if not that actual thing. But our supplementale was right here in Maynard,
wherein Hillary and Ken came out with food. They arrived seven thirtyish in Ken's new car, and apparently
they came straight from the dealer (an oboist with his own gouging machine sold them their car). Ken
brought a spicy oxtail sort of stew and also a spicy sort of salad, and we let the wine flow. Hillary was
especially impressed by the cat tricks: tear a piece of newspaper and the cats come bounding into the room
awaiting a toy; crinkle plastic in the pantry and they come bounding in expecting a treat; throw a crumple
toy at Sunny and he defends it like a soccer goalie; and Camden watches TV from really close. Even with
all the excitement and the lateness of the evening, I managed to do my Tuesday teaching without much
incident. Well, how about that!
We have secured a locksmith to look at, and possibly rebuild, the lock mechanism on our front door. It is
very old and broken in a few pieces, and we have never been able to use the front door as our regular door
-- because it is a key stuck in the lock on the inside that is the only way to lock it right now. The door has
been all but unopenable when it is humid, so we need it fixed, or something. Not to mention. We are
broaching the subject of having a half bath put in downstairs where the pantry and refrigerator currently
reside. Anyone with the name of a good contractor to do such a thing in this area, yield it now. We figure
the mud room will also have to be reconfigured in some way, so we won't be able to use the back door
while this rebuilding happens. Hence the concern of using the front door.

Whoa, it really IS lovely out right now. Bike ride time.

This week the pictures are 400 pixels wide rather than 320, because you're worth it. There may be a sly
reference to a four-day weekend there, but I doubt it. The first four pictures were taken this week, and the
next four were taken by Corinne Pearlman when she and Martler were here last March around St. Patrick's
Day. I didn't get them until months later. The first three are from our trip to the Chicken Bone Saloon
yesterday, including a picture of our actual food. Then we see Camden, who is newly fascinated with the
television whenever it is on. Next we find Martler and me looking at our Buffalo wings at the Village
Pizzeria last March, not realizing that we would be in the shot. This is followed by Martler's lunch on St.
Patrick's day, consisting of corned beef and cabbage and much, much beer. Then it's me with an icicle
posing in the living room, and Martler posing with the bulk of his St. Patrick's Day lunch.

SEPTEMBER 24. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms veggie sausage patties with 2% melted
cheese, orange juice and decaf coffee. Dinner was Rosemary chicken sandwiches, grilled tofu with Trader
Joe's Sesame Orange marinade, and salad with the homemade Good Seasons salad dressing. Lunch
yesterday was a large salad with sun-dried tomato salad dressing. Today's lunch is at the faculty club, on
Scott. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week were round trip plane tickets to Chicago for December,
$195.96 each on United. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Hyperblue, by me.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE Certain songs from the 70s bring back very specific and
wistful memories: "Ricky Don't Lose That Number" is overnights spent with friends in our tent trailer;
"Horse With No Name" is seventh grade music classes; "Saturday in the Park" is the piano lab in the band
room; Chicago's "Harry Truman" is our pickup band massacring the tune in Spring Frolics (I played
trombone); and "We need him crucified" from Jesus Christ Superstar is the cheap stereo cassette player in
my bedroom and friends visiting. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 42.3 and 81.7.
RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 3. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK More places to buy the Snapple Green Tea and Lime variety. MUSIC NEWLY TRANSFERRED
TO MY IPOD is none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: I watched a segment on a business channel
recently in which an analyst mentioned that the automobile tire industry is practically putting itself out of
business because it is making a product that is so good that the market for replacement tires is shrinking
drastically; so why did my Toyota tires wear out after just 35,000 miles? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS include jalapeno-stuffed olives, grilled tofu, and Snapple green tea with lime. NUMBER OF
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY
LAST REAL COFFEE: 47. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD
BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bag of pine needles, fingernail shavings, cat
hair not yet brushed off the couch, a piece of laminated paper.
Just before this morning's update, I took my first QuickTime movies on my Nikon Coolpix. I tried to
capture Sunset jumping up, soccer goalie-like, for a crumpled paper toy. The only semi-spectacular one I
got has him jumping out of the frame, but it's good enough for me. Click on "Sunny Movie" above to see a
brief video. Alast, it is also 1.3 megabytes and will take some time to load.
Beff is, as I type this, on the road. Technically, her Camry is on the road and she is in it, but you get the
idea; and before she left, she made sure to remind me of the things we did this week that I should be sure to
include in this space. Her brother Bob is with her, too, and will be fed a strict diet, while in transit, of a
book on tape. They are doing Dad Duty this weekend, the last in a while for Beff, since she's soon to begin
her colony hop. Beff also went to a Tuesday evening reception in New York City (where the salsa is made)
for Copland House fellae. And there she met several people that it was good to see, including two of my
double-fivers from the Home of this site: Hayes and Daron. She stayed at Marilyn Nonken's apartment,
thus giving us one more shared experience about which to talk (especially the sofa bed and the light in the
alley). And there were plenty of other cool people there, like Sebastian Currier and Judy Sherman, and the
whole Music from Copland House gang. Four of the eight fellae for this year were at the reception, two of
which stayed at the MacDowell Colony (Chasalow and Festinger) rather than lose two days' work. People
after my own heart.
Last week's update brought some lurkers -- I don't recall whether I count them within the almost eleven, or

think of them as adjunct -- into my e-mail box. Dr. Uechi had brought the update to Josh Skaller's attention,
speculating that I had accused him of "petty larceny" with a widemouth bottle of ketchup. In any case, it
was good to hear from Josh, even though the pictures on his web page -- skaller.com, no leading "www." -haven't been updated in some time. You gotta love a guy who calls his firstborn Wolf instead of Hugo. Last
sighting of Josh: November '02. Last sightin of Dr. Uechi: ohmigod I have no idea. 1995? Dr. Uechi, I still
have the "Keep On Pumpkin" cutout doll you sent me in Rome. In fact, it hangs on the new bookshelf in
the computer room. Don't believe me? Well, looky here.
Dear Mummy
And this morning Sam e-mailed to note that there was no new update yet this week. Well, that and the usual
sorts of things he writes about. I now have a small shampoo in the bathroom with the words "SAM'S
SHAMPOO" magic markered on it. I figure this is left over from Sam & Laurie's last catsitting gig here,
even while Poom was still alive. Either that or the mouse that we had in the house last year was named Sam
and got REALLY brazen about his place in our lives.
You'll note that the "days since last beer" shrank rather than grew this week. This is because of two events,
which I will cover in reverse chronological order. Wednesday was Beff's birthday, and that was the day she
took a bus back from New York and arrived in mid-afternoon to warm weather. We had decided in advance
to go to a restaurant to celebrate, and she chose Quarterdeck, the seafood place. In a celebratory mood, we
both got Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale on tap, and it shonuff was good. Nice counterpoint to my Buffalo
tenders and clam roll. Beff got scallops wrapped in bacon and the Thai ginger tilapia. It was quite a good
and filling meal, one of the waitresses mentioned that I got my usual (sorry, but when it comes to seafood I
don't get that inventive, and the Cajun blackened meal just seemed too bulky at that point), and our waitress
ostentatiously mouthed the words "DO YOU WANT CAKE?" to me, and I just as ostentatiously mouthed
the word "WHAT?"
Friday night we rode into Boston for dinner with Lee and Kate, and it was a stay-at-home affair. Instead of
bringing wine -- since we didn't know what we would be eating -- we brought a six-pack of the Magic Hat
hoppy beer, and Lee served me a bottle -- hence ending my run of beerless days. I'm afraid it was a jinx.
When I stopped drinking beer, the Red Sox went on a tear; when I had another beer, the Red Sox went back
to being a .500 team. I must remember in the future to use my powers for good. In any case, we had a great
plate of appetizers -- I made sure to sit right where the plate was -- and pasta fagioli and melon slices
wrapped in prosciutto. It was a lovely dinner -- I had seconds on the pasta fagioli, and we got some to bring
home -- and it was entertaining to watch Lee watching the Red Sox and all the body English and
monosyllabic words coming out with great force. Now the two of them are about to go to Rome for about
three months, and I notice a green-eyed monster sitting just to my left as I type that.
Saturday was Ivan's day to pass overhead, and finally something hit us with a lot of rain, nearly three
inches. There was even enough to cause a little bit of water to seep onto the basement floor. So clearly I can
not choose the wine in front of ME. (oops, Princess Bride references sometimes just pop out unannounced
like that) That was the day I chose for my yearly eye exam. So while a river was forming outside
D'Ambrosio clinic, I got to read about laser surgery, the doctor suggested I could get lens implants with a
lifetime warranty, and since I knew this would be the year they dilated my pupils, I got Beff to come along
for the ride (she passed on the opportunity to shop at DRESS BARN, in the same shopping center). Ooh,
the pupil dilating stuff was cartoonishly fun -- as the dreary day looked bright and sunny and wet to me.
And my contacts didn't quite fit until the dilation wore off, so I got to be blurry guy all day. I now have 24
new lenses, which are no longer called Optima FW by Bausch & Lomb, but something like a 38 special.
Sunday was a nicer, though cooler day, and we took the cats into the back yard several times for their
exercise. More separation of personality is evident out of doors: Camden likes to hide under the Adirondack
chairs and occasionally climb a little bit up a tree. Sunset likes to jump high for the frisbee when we toss it,
and climb the hyndrangea tree nearly to the tippy top. Camden likes to go under the back porch, Sunset
likes the wooded area near the canoe. Meanwhile, they are still too naive about nature to be left outside
unwatched.
My second week of teaching at NEC was a smashing success. I have been invited to a composition

department party at Mac Peyton's in Cambridge on Sunday that I will likely skip. I was also invited by Mac
to send him some music for possible performance at NEC either in October or May -- wide range there.
Meanwhile, Brandeis teaching continues unabated. Chairmanship was not hard this week, but ominous
tones were sounded for the months ahead.
Yesterday I received a summons to jury duty in Framingham. Drat, I knew this would happen if I ever
stayed in one place more than three years. What's more, the proposed duty happens to be while I am in
Chicago for "Ten of a Kind", so I politely returned the response card with a postponement date of June 16. I
don't know what I'm doing then, but it'll be after my birthday. The only alternative is to change our official
residence to Maine, and that seems like a bit much just to get out of jury duty (like when B.D. signed up for
combat duty in Vietnam in Doonesbury in the early '70s to get out of writing a term paper).
And today I will be mailing the scores and parts of RULE OF THREE to Cambridge University in England,
who commissioned it. I am particularly amused by the commissioning info that is required to be on the
score: Commissioned by Kettle's Yard with grant-aid from the Fenton Arts Trust for the 2005 Sunday
Coffee Concert Series. I wonder if they serve decaf, because given my piece they might need it. What does
that mean? Durned if I know. The only other professional stuff to report is that the Marines asked for a
color photo for their December program booklet, passed on the toy piano shot, so they're cutting out my
head from one of the control room shots of Amy's 2003 recording session; and an e-mail from the librarian
of the Marine band saying they'd gotten inquiries about the many-clarinet arrangmement of "Martian
Counterpoint" and from whom can they get it. So there.
Oh yes, and a percussionist in Queens wants to get a grant to pay a few composers, myself included, to
write him a hand drum solo. The list of composers is a good one.
I finished the pedal B etude and settled on the name KILLER B'S. The title just happened to come out (no
one suggested it) while I was at the computer typing an e-mail and Beff came in the computer room and
said, "So, pedal B's, huh?". I HAD already thought of "Where the B Sucks", which one of the almost eleven
suggested, but it may send the wrong message. This same one of the almost eleven also suggested "In Cflat," which I thought was extremely clever. But which would have necessitated a lot of going back into
Finale and respelling everything.
And sad news this week. Susan Forrest Harding, a composer on whose dissertation committee I was at
Columbia, died in August at the age of 47 of undisclosed causes. This was mentioned in the VCCA
newsletter. Mortality is just that much more evident this week.
The only pictures we have this week are cats. Two of Sunset with the toy piano, and two of Camden on the
stairs. This is what I leave you with.
OCTOBER 1. Breakfast this morning was absolutely nothin' (say it again!). Actually, breakfast this
morning is decaf coffee with Hood Simply Smart 0% milk and Morningside Farms tofu sausage patties
with Kraft 2% milk cheese. Dinner was Buffalo tenders and a Caesar salad topped with herb-rubbed salmon
at the Seafood Restaurant, courtessy of Geoffy. Lunch was chicken teriyaki at the Korean restaurant in
Maynard. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week include a Nikon Coolpix 3200 camera, bag, and 256 meg
memory card, together with a 512meg memory card for my own camera, $320. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Abracadabra" by the Steve Miller Band. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE When we were very young -- say, 10 or 11 -- Jim Hoy and I used to tape
ourselves doing bad rock improvisations in our basement on a toy percussion set (Jim would eventually
move on to a real drumset) and a guitar poised somewhere between toy and real. Jim did the percussion, I
did C and G chords (all I knew) on the guitar. Jim sang nonsense stuff that didn't have a tune (one of our
standbys was "End of the World" in which I did a descant in the background repeating the phrase ad
nauseum). My sister probably has those (reel to reel) tapes somewhere in her archive, and at this point the
blackmail value would be rather high. (Jim currently lives in Portland, Maine working as a construction
estimator and playing in a rock band that does original tunes roughly in the style of the Monkees)
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 41.9 and 77.9.

RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE

WEEK The cats more or less exchange personalities when they go outdoors -- Sunny becoming the
rambunctious one and Cammy becoming the more docile one. MUSIC NEWLY TRANSFERRED TO MY
IPOD is none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why is "vegan" pronounced with a long "e" sound?
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include Altoid fruit sours and deli dill pickles. NUMBER OF
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY
LAST REAL COFFEE: 54. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD
BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE this morning's Boston Globe, a brown
shoelace, the grill cover, a melted-down crayon.
Beff is on the road as I type again, and as before, I quickly qualify that by saying it's her Camry that is on
the road while Beff is merely in the Camry -- "on the road" power is metaphorically transferred to Beff by
the Camry by me, and what it is, too. She is making the incredible drive deep into the Confederacy -- her
sax and tape/video piece is being done at a mini-festival in Richmond, Virginia tomorrow (Mario
Davidovsky is a guest at this mini-festival), and the saxophonist is driving roughly the same distance, from
Bowling Green, Ohio. After the performance, she drives as far as Burke, Virginia, where she stays at the
Colburn homestead, and then on Sunday she drives almost as far as Yaddo, stopping short to stay with her
sister in Cohoes. On Monday she starts her month-long residency at Yaddo. Leaving Davy with dish duty,
doody duty, and lots of other alliterative things. The cats will be 16% older when she returns.
Backing off for a moment on leaving chairmanship out of this portion of our program, it had just occurred
to me that -- in addition to sleeping all the way through the night only twice now since the beginning of
August (yes, it is stressful), I realize that I've also had no dreams I remember in that time period. Except
twice. This morning I dreamed about my piece "Hyperblue," it raining, newspaper, and trying to put
together a performance score that was soaked. This probably because it was a rare morning that I slept
beyond 3 am, and Beff and I were under 376 pounds of covers. Yes, we made it to October without turning
on the heat yet, and that meant a rather cold day in the house yesterday morning. Laundering the sheets and
cover gave the excuse to enter winter mode on the bed, and it was boiling for a while. Perhaps the extra
weight made it possible for me to remember a dream, or to dream at all. Now here's where we stick in the
gratuitous metaphor about striving. So go ahead.
As to chairmanship itself, this week it boiled down to: meetings.
Since the weekend was mostly Beffless (she was in Vermont watching her dad and bro' duke it out), and
concert-free, I took the opportunity to squeeze out etude #64 on arpeggiated thirds, "A Third in the Hand."
Beff and I had several title-considering sessions, and "Revenge of the Thirds" was a strong candidate for a
while. Rejected candidates included Third it Through the Grapevine, Seen and Not Third, Thirdy Gurdy,
Theater of the Ab Third. Guess what? The lines go up, and they go down. They go at different speeds. And
at the thickest point it's almost jazzy. Chalk up another success story. The dotted eighth is the beat, and it
begins with the same pitch classes as You've Got Scale. 'cept higher.
The entertainment event of the week was renting and watching the DVD of "The Eternal Sunshine of the
Spotless Mind," a Charlie Kaufman script (Being John Malkovich and Adaptation), and it was fabulous. I
rate it as 873.6 times as good a movie as "Mystic River." In fact, I might bring up here that W is 1.348
times as good a president as Mystic River is a movie. In any case, all the overlapping weird stuff was great,
and the movie itself was almost as claustrophobic as Being John Malkovich. Solid emotional core, etc., and
nobody preening for Oscar nominations.
Yesterday Beff finally became convinced that she would like to have a digital camera to record her colony
hop, so we went to Staples to see what was inexpensive and small enough. After looking at HP and
Olympia lower-end cameras (they looked fairly poopisch), we noticed Nikon Coolpix 3200s in the locked
display case for only 200 bucks, and the 15 shooting modes and ability to take movies with sound
convinced us. So while Beff did errands and did ironing, I figured out the basics of the camera and
challenged her to take some shots for this very page. There will be two of them showing up below. So now
she'll be able to send digital pix, if the computers at Yaddo don't continue to lock out the connection of USB
drives, etc. And some of them may show up here, too. Brilliantly enough, the camera runs with two AA

batteries rather than with a $40 proprietary battery. And Beff has one of the multi-card readers on her trip so
that she can transfer them to her computer. It reads SD cards,and what it is, too.
The fourth hurricane of the season did a dump here after it was through dumping on Florida, and it was sad
not to be able to watch the news coverage of it on a TV in the Chicken Bone Saloon. The issue was timing
-- meetings, after all. We had scheduled lunch with Ken and Hillary for yesterday at the Chicken Bone
Saloon -- they were intrigued by last week's pictures in this space -- but Hillary begged off because her
electronic music class called an extra meeting for the convenience of the instructor (and obviously not of
the students). Meanwhile, they were planning on hearing Gusty's piece with the NY Phil last night, an event
to which I cannot go for boring chairman reasons.
There was some yardwork done this last week. Beff's brother Bob was with her when she returned from
Vermont on Sunday, and we decided to remove the three hugely overgrown hostas from the back yard. Bob
did the digging and I did the transporting. Gaping holes remain. Yesterday Beff and I transported the picnic
table and chairs to their winter storage place in the basement. And also, all the air conditioners are out of
their windows and in the attic now. The amount of brush and stuff left behind by nesting birds in the
window of the guest room was fairly dramatic.
Speaking of which. The Brandeis Women Composers festival finally happens this weekend -- the first try at
one was snowed out last December. And it presents two of at least four mod music concerts this weekend
(the others being Musica Viva and Dinosaur Annex). Since my limit per weekend is two concerts, I am
doing the Brandeis events only. My friend Ellen Harrison was one of the winners in the composition
competition, and my former student Martha Horst is the other winner (I was not on the selection panel), so
they will both be in town. The gala concert is actually sold out, and despite that, there is a big mention in
today's Globe about the festival. So there will be plenty of disappointed people at the door, I fear. But it will
be nice to see Ellen for the first time in NINE YEARS -- oh goodness, we met at MacDowell in 1995. Ellen
corresponds with a lag time of about a year, so it seems like a lot less time since then.
Musica Viva having a concert this weekend means that Geoffy is amongst us, and he arrived last night. For
whatever reason, he decided to take us out for seafood. At which point I revised the Exceptions list of my
beer prohibition to read "no beer whatsoever except when we eat at the Quarterdeck." So each of us had
two Sierra Nevada Celebration Ales. And the beer clock was set back to zero. Beff and Geoff (an internal
rhyme!) got sole with capers, and I got salmon on a Caesar salad (alliteration is the big finish for that
sentence). Both Beff and Geoff left early this morning -- Beff at 6, Geoff at 7:15. Here I bring up again that
Geoff is the only guest that drinks the spring water and that washes his own dishes. A boon, I tell you, a
boon.
Through no effort of my own, five of the etudes on the "Martian Counterpoint" CD will be on the next
program of WGBH's "Art of the States". This is something where you get free web streaming of lots of
American music, and the programs themselves are aired on radio in 53 countries -- as if I'll ever see a dime
in royalties out of it. The theme of the program is audible systems (?) and it is grouped with a piece by
David Lang and another composer whose name I forget. This just means that looking for my name on
Google (something I do more often than I admit) will now bring up a few more hits.
Speaking of Martian Counterpoint. Extremely weird review of the CD on New Music Box, also quoted in
Reviews on this site.
There was actually an inquiry about the many-clarinetted version of "Martian Counterpoint," as performed
by the Marines in July. Since the inquiry came in, I had to request the parts from the Marine guy (Sgt
Ressler, short for Renssalaer, I guess), who got them to me in record time. Now they go to Peters. Though
they came in a package with a return address of US Navy. Ah, vive la difference!
During my few lulls in composing last weekend (the next one will be months, I suspect), I took the kitties
out and tried to take movies, with my Coolpix, of Sunny jumping for things. In the first (click on "Jump
movie" above), Sunny is in the sun and blends in until he jumps and you can see him in relief against the
fence. In the second ("Ring Toss Movie"), he is in the shade, and I tried to throw a ring for him to jump at,

but instead it ended up turning into a ring toss that I won. As Alex Ross said about my Lexicon, wise and
funny stuff.
And my first NEC paycheck arrived. Hot diggity dog.
This week's pictures begin with two from Beff's 3.2 megapixel Nikon Coolpix 3200. Alas, it was cloudy
when we took the cats out. But you can see that Sunny likes the hammock. We move to various shots of the
many shrooms that have popped up in the side yard since the big rain and cold. There is the backyard
azalea bush, which you can see I had to trim so we could walk to our house from the driveway. And then
we have shots of the fall foliage, which is just beginning.

OCTOBER 7. Breakfast this morning was Miilton's Healthy Multi-Grain toast with lowfat Shaw's peanut
butter, decaf coffee, and orange juice. Last night's dinner was a large salad with Good Seasonings dressing.
Lunch was the two-slice special at Cappy's Pizza down the hill from the music deparment, with hot sauce
slathered on top. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week were none. Unless you count $9 for three bags of
topsoil. Oh yeah; and new firelogs, campari tomatoes, Fuji CD-Rs, cat food at BJs, $79. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "You're Just Enough" by Tower of Power. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE My favorite late night snack when I was about 7 was a piece of white
bread covered with mustard. My nickname for this culinary delight was "mustardbread," with the emphasis
on the second syllable. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 31.3 and 69.6.
RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 3. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK Squirrels are not afraid of cats. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why do 40% of Americans
still think Saddam was responsible for 9/11? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include hot sauce
added to stuff where it doesn't otherwise belong. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY
THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 60. DAYS
SINCE MY LAST BEER: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE a piece of notebook paper, a stone stuck in your shoe, a vanity mirror, a
gardening spade.
As I type this at 7:15 on this Brandeis holiday morning (Sh'mini Atzeret), I note, without irony, that this is a
Thursday update, which brings us into classic mode. It is a lovely and cold day, the leaves continue to turn
toward red, yellow and orange, and a few of them pile up under the sickly maple in the northwest corner of
the front yard. This all reminds me that I continue not to lock the front door with the key because it sticks if
you do that -- and the locksmith we called to fix it (and who came to the house and tried to engage us in
locksmith-nerd conversation for what seemed like hours but was only fifteen minutes) has yet to get back to
us with any updates on the hardware we chose. Fascinating. The weather has turned to fall mode, cracking
below freezing for the first time yesterday morning -- alas, our growing season is over. The athletic fields of
Brandeis were white-frosted when I arrived at work yesterday, and they were kind of pretty. The
weatherman gives us weather into the 70s for the next two days, however; and I have to waste some of that
weather tomorrow afternoon in an impromptu short meeting with the President. Of Brandeis.
Beff's humongously long drives got her to her respective destinations, and now she is safely ensconced at
Yaddo -- in the East House composer live-in studio -- where she will be until the month name begins with
"n". She apparently got pretty lost after missing a turn when looking for the Colburn homestead in Burke,
Virginia, but she managed to find the place, eventually; Winnie of the vibrating haunch was pleased to see
her. At last check, there was some debate as to where exactly she was supposed to do the sleeping of her,
but it was apparently resolved. At Yaddo she is sharing time with three filmmakers at once -- two of whom
I know from the MacDowell Colony -- and that brings me back to my first time at Yaddo when the Director
was so, um, breathtakingly repressed and, um, less than clueful, that she prohibited televisions or film
playback equipment from the Yaddo mansion. Because, you see (I suppose), the Trasks never had a TV. In
any case -- I have never seen the East House composer studio, but I suppose I will soon.
In fact, next weekend I plan on driving there for an overnight. And I suppose Beff's sister will work on
getting us lodging of cheapness in the area. Meantime, Beff can't get the multi-card reader I lent her from

my own computer bag to read the SD card from her digital camera, so I am charged with bringing the
original camera box so she can get the pix she's taken onto her own computer. Knowing me, I'll just buy her
another card reader. Today. At Staples. After getting stuff from Trader Joe's. Who no longer has those cool
grapefruit sours or the pepperoncini I like so much. It'll only be an overnight, because Beff will have to get
back to work, AND the kitties will need to be fed.
Speaking of which -- doing the garbage AND recycling AND changing the cat litter is a big job! Especially
for someone who raised a nasty bump on his head by hitting his head on a door, on purpose, for comic
effect while exiting a classroom at Brandeis.
Speaking of which -- I heard Eric Chafe tell his class that midterms were next Friday. Midterms!?! Now I
REALLY have to go to the bathroom.
Almost all of my composition students this week, both at NEC and at Brandeis, had nearly no no music to
show. The amount of stuff I had to come up with to fill the full hours for which I was being paid was
considerable, AND made my head hurt -- and this was before hitting my head on a door.
The lioness's share of my Saturday was taken up by being at Brandeis for the Women Composers Festival -a 4:00 concert of music by women graduate students (including former graduate students -- hi, Hillary), and
a sold-out event featuring grownups. So at 4 we had double Yoko, Hillary, Grace, and Seungah, and at 8 the
two competition winners and a bunch of older, seasoned composers. All in all, both concerts were very,
very good. I saw our piano tuning team there twice, of course causing the chair in me to think, "okay, at
$125 per tuning, that was..."). Martha Horst's piece was very fin de siecle Vienna, 'cept more whole-toney,
and very beautiful, and Ellen Harrison's string quartet was lovely, and beautifully played by the Lyds.
Before the concert started, I just happened to find myself seated in front of the Brandeis president and his
wife -- and his wife runs the Womens Studies Research Center. So the chit-chat we had before magically
turned into major points in her pre-concert speech. She even brought up that Martha had worked with me at
"a west coast University that will remain nameless".
I encountered Ellen just before the earlier concert, and it was the first time I've seen her in nine years -when we were at the MacDowell Colony together. We did Thai at the Treetop restaurant, I played her some
music, and we looked at her son playing the violin on www.violinmasterclass.com. Then we went to the
concert, which was hot. Well, the room was, anyway. The "23-voice Boston Secession Ensemble" that sang
Amy Beach, Ruth Lomon, Pauline Oliveros and others turned out to have 25 singers in it (one of the pieces
was dull enough that I counted). I was wondering how many of the singers were considered to have
fractional voices, and by what amount. Maybe four of them sang the "sotto voce" parts? I could go on with
this joke, but I won't.
Yesterday turned into a mammoth teaching day because Tuesday I drove to Ken Ueno's teaching 'hood to
give a colloquium -- easy money, not so easy driving -- thus having to move one student to a late time
yesterday. Driving time from Brandeis to UMass Dartmouth (south and east of Providence) is an hour and
ten minutes. The college has a hub and spoke design -- a central bunch of '80s industrial buildings with lots
of concrete and parts of buildings seem to fly out like toaster handles -- with a ring road and a bunch of
surrounding dormitories. Ken has to share an office with two other faculty, and he is one of only three fulltimers. An army of adjuncts does most of the theory and history teaching. I met the Chairman, whose name
is different from the Stanford chairman by only one letter (Karol Berger minus the "o"); as the first outsider
coming in to give any kind of talk there, I had some sort of special status, and dadburnit, I had to be polite,
too. So I played some etudes on CD and on video, and played most of Ten of a Kind, and gave my usual
spiel about band music, the military, non-coms vs. officers, etc., and it turned out that the Dean came to the
talk, and he is a total clarinet nerd who once played in the Navy Band. He mentioned that in the military,
the officers were the ones without much talent who were good at sucking up, but based on the evidence of
the Ten of A Kind recording made an immediate exception for the Marines. As no officer he ever
encountered in the Navy would be able to come close to Ten of a Kind. So it was a big clarinet nerd
moment. And I sure came with the right piece for it.
After the talk, Ken took me out to a local barbecue place. The Buffalo wings I had were excellent, and Ken

got the doughnut dessert -- a bag of six small doughnuts that come with a strawberry dipping sauce. Local
customs baffle me sometimes.
The cats yearn to go outdoors, and often want to go beyond the boundaries of the fence, which makes me
nervous. Beff pulled a tick off of Camden, after all. They now know their names, and know the words
"out", "treats" and "kitties", all of which are associated with specific actions (or gastronomic niceties).
I have received notification that the Lincoln Center Chamber Music Society is finally cranking up their
publicity machine on the Stoeger Prize. They are taking out ads in the Boston Globe and NY Times,
International Musicians something, and something else. Look in your Sunday Times on November 14, rip
out the page with the ad, and send it to me. I am expecting almost eleven copies of it.
CD BRAND ALERT: Based on much experience with many brands, I'd settled on TDK as the CD-R of
choice. Me being as obsessive as I am, I burned TDK CD-Rs AND Fuji CD-Rs for my talk, just in case
there were any problems. The TDKs did NOT play in their system (for the first time ever for me for that
brand) and the Fujis did. I am switching to Fuji. Now I REALLY have to go to the bathroom.
Today's pictures are of people at the Women Composers event, and of the cats in their outdoor frolic. I took
some GREAT fog pictures on Saturday morning near the mill, and STUPIDLY deleted them from the card
before I'd copied them to the hard disk. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. First is Ellen, then Martha (third from
left) with Stanford friends, the sculpture in the Slosberg lobby, and Mary Ruth and Josh (of the quartet)
with Ellen Harrison (Josh thinks hors d'ouevres are a prop). Then we have kitty shots, which are closer than
they appear. "Jump movie" and "Ring Toss movie" hold on for another week (top).
Oops. Too soon I spoke. I discovered the fog shots on the iMac. So, there are two fog shots at the bottom -the Mill and Mill Pond, and the Ben Smith Dam. Then, two pictures showing the striking but eneven way
the leaves are turning.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------? (OCTOBER 15) OCTOBER 7. Breakfast this morning is Raisin Bran and orange juice. Dinner was a
sesame noodle bowl from Trader Joes (cutely called Trader Ming's on the bowl). Lunch was a bowl of
campari tomatoes with salad dressing and a bowl of kimuchee soup. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week
include a Nikon Coolpix 3200 for myself with memory card and card reader, $315, and a whole mess of
Amytudes 2 CDs from Bridge Records, $825. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
"The Look of Love" as is evidenced on the Groovy 60s collection. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE June 1, 1975, my first public performance of my 7-minute piece o' crap band piece, with
me conducting. The opening has an F sus 4 chord sustained in the trombones, etc., over lots of intricate
percussion writing. I remember the actual percussionists in the band being quite confused and timid with
their parts, but also Verne Colburn sitting in on the percussion section absolutely wailin' away on the
claves. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 37.6 and 73.8.
RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 2. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK For Camden, Bly's old hiding place under the porch. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Which
is rounder -- an orange? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include kim-chee purchased at Porter
Exchange (all gone now). NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE
PREVIOUS WEEK: lots of crumpled up newspaper playtoys. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE:
68. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 15. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a squidge, a slurry, a three-corner hat, six pairs of Don El
Verzo's tweezers.
As I start typing this, it is a little less than 7:00 with clouds, mist, and occasional stray showers. The cats
were allowed to sleep on the bed last night, and they have a tendency to get rambunctious at the worst times
for me. And when they do that they purr so loudly that the bed vibrates. The cats now tend to inhale their
breakfast can of Fancy Feast and wait around for me to make another crumple ball for them. They now
feverishly wish to go out (and know the word "out") when I return from the salt mines, especially Camden.

They're not satisfied to stay in the yard, but now instead of hanging out in the stand of pine trees, they like
the driveway and the space underneath the porch -- where Bly used to spend all his outside time. Camden
often wants to come in pretty soon, because, I guess, he gets spooked easily by stray outdoor noises. They
both now like to climb the fenceposts and sit on them -- for a limited period of time. Normally for play,
they either chase each other maniacally through the yard or Camden plays by himself in the flowerbed and
Sunset chases insects. He now jumps for stuff a little less than he used to, but given the right manic mood,
he will indeed jump high.
Hayes called last night and, among many other things, noted that I hadn't updated this space. Here's where I
remind all almost eleven that I'm now doing that on Fridays. Yesterday I had to run a faculty meeting and
that is a bit too time-consuming, especially when I have kitties to monitor, etc.
On Saturday the weather was nice, and I took my blue K-Mart laceless shoes with me into Boston (they
were on my feet). Big mistake. Those shoes are not made for walkin'. I ended up walking a lot on the sides
of my feet, since blisters felt like they were about to form in sympathy. In any case. I went to the Boston
Deli in South Boston to check on Smak pickles, and they had none, alas, and so this poor dog had none.
Instead, I did get the last two jars of Polish Farms sour pickles (a worthy #2), and picked up a pile of
powdered Polish soups -- some made by Knorr, some not. Check out the back of one of the packets,
reproduced way below -- anyone out there know what this thing is that I bought for 79 cents? After leaving
the Boston Market, I had some time to kill before I could get a train out of Porter Square, so I did Tower
Records (yes, they have a Rakowski bin) and Newbury Comics (no Rakowski bin), and walked up Mass.
Ave. to a gourmet pizza place and had some slices of rather good pizza for rather too much money. Then I
checked out the cool paper store near Porter Square, went into Porter Exchange to the Japanese
supermarket and got a bunch of kimuchee soup mixes and a large jar of kimchee, hung out at Pier One until
the train was due, and took the train. On these train trips, I got to use my iPod battery backup for the first
time, as the iPod had run out of juice, and it was ... well, dweeby of me.
Saturday night was a Lydian Quartet concert, sold out, and it was quite an event. Mozart, Schumann and
Ives. The Ives Second String Quartet reminded me of what Mark Twain said about Wagner -- nice moments
but bad quarter-hours. There was a cute comedy moment in the middle movement where Judy Eissenberg
stood up and played her part forcefully (the story Ives gave is of four men having a spirited argument and
then climbing a mountain and experiencing serene beauty, etc.) and sat back down.
On Sunday I made yet another trip to Brandeis in order to attend Rachel Liebermann's Performance
Program junior recital, because people were needed to grade it. I enjoyed it, it was good music, and I
remember virtually nothing about the Poulenc. Sunday afternoon was spent entertaining the cats, of course.
An e-mail from Amy D let me know that the Etudes Volume 2 CD from Bridge was imminent and she
asked if I'd gotten my copies yet. I immediately fired off an e-mail to Bridge asking for 100 of them, and
they arrived on Tuesday. Sweet. I then spent plenty of time giving comp copies to people at Brandeis -even the President -- and mailing some out to friends. Since Amy is in Chicago for three weeks and won't
have her CDs, I also arranged for a box to be sent to Ursula Oppens at Northwestern University. Now
Ursula will get in on the act, and I will be famous in no time. Yes, no time, indeed. The funny thing (to me)
about the whole thing is that Judy Sherman is not only the engineer, producer and editor, she also gets the
photo credit for the cover. And Beff gets the photo credit for the picture of me that appears on the last page
of the booklet (which you see when you open up the case). Better yet, when you take the CD out you see a
picture of Amy's ring of scores -- all 24 of her big scores arranged in a ring on the floor of the American
Academy. Cool. So I will be bringing a lot of those with me today ...
... as I drive to Saratoga Springs to see Beff at Yaddo. I'll be leaving a little earlier than I have to because of
the predicted rain (here they expect a brief downpour with wind -- not enough to make the Weather Bug
chirp, but there is a Special Weather Statement on the They That Make page), and I will be bringing her a
bunch of stuff she needs -- including her original camera box, bass clarinet (almost forgot to do that),
earmuffs, coat, paper, etc. And I will be bringing her guitar back, as she finished her mandolin and guitar
piece. Her sister Ann wasn't able to get us a good rate anywhere closer than Glens Falls, so Beff got us a
room at the local Super 8 for 90 bucks. Why I never! We also have a reservation at a nice restaurante in

Saratoga Springs, and the restaurant called here, Maynard, to confirm the reservation. Since we have cats to
tend to, I will be out of Saratoga bright and early tomorrow morning, stop in Northampton on the way back
for an early lunch with David Sanford (I'm paying), and then make my way home. And the cats will not
have a gun in their pocket, they will be genuinely glad to see me -- as they strongly point toward where
their food is kept.
And crap. There was a holiday this week, so garbage collection is a day later. Today. Can't do it, can't do it.
Due to space limitations at the Midwest Conference in December -- something the Marine Band guys had
been trying to get details about since June -- Ten of a Kind will NOT be done on the December 16 concert.
As a consolation, they have programmed SIBLING REVELRY on their back-to-back concerts the night
before, where there IS enough space. So, a premiere a little sooner (by four months) than was thought. Woo
hoo and all that. I had Captain Jason do my dirty work by e-mailing Gene at Peters to ask, innocently, if
they would have a bunch of scores of that (as well as of TEN OF A KIND) available for sale at Midwest.
Soon I will join the fray. Gene never responds when I do that, though. He does respond to strangers,
though. So I had to quickly write program notes, which I did.
I also sent a bio and wrote program notes for VIOLIN SONGS for the Chamber Music Society. As
mentioned earlier, save your NY Times November 14 and send me the Stoeger announcement in it.
Martler gets here late Monday night. Big woo hoo there. Another raker!
Today's pictures are three of the cats, a nice dragonfly closeup (Sunny had been chasing it and I guess it
was out of breath), foliage around the house, Martler's bedroom window with a cute reflection, and one of
the soup packets I got on Saturday.
OCTOBER 22. Breakfast this morning is Morningside farm meatless breakfast sausages and decaf coffee.
Dinner was salmonburgers with salad with an Annie Chun's cilantro dressing. Pre-dinner was receptiontype junk food. Lunch was hot and sour soup from a package. LARGE EXPENSES include both 'Nard CDs
from amazon, imports, $65, each trip to the gas pump, oil change at Jee-fee Loob $39. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Bread Sandwiches" from the 'Nard album. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE In Little League tryouts, I recall trying to impress the coaches with the
strength of my arm exactly the wrong way: we had to field a grounder at shortstop and throw to first. To
make my impression about my arm, I made sure to throw it over the head of the first baseman. SECOND
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Bill Buckner. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST
WEEK 36.1 and 63.3. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK It's really funny when you say "Jiffy Lube" with a foreign accent. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Whatever happened to compassionate conservatism? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS deli pickles (including the juice) and Altoid fruit candies. NUMBER OF
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: nothing this week.
DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 5. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a Jiffy Lube rack,
a piece of spittle, the memory card in either of my cameras, the Vice President's brain.
Big event for the week was driving to Saratoga Springs and seeing Beff at Yaddo. Because of They That
Make's prediction, I left rather earlier than I had planned, thus arriving at the Wilton Mall outside of
Saratoga Springs by 12:30. Luckily, Beff had her cell phone on and I informed her of my nearness. In order
to use up a bit of time before getting to Yaddo during the no-outsiders time, I had lunch at Ruby Tuesday's
in the mall: it was Buffalo wings (pretty good), a salad bar (mediocre), and a Lime Rickey ice tea (which
was bizarre and a lot different from what you would think). From there I arrived Yaddo-ward around 2,
where I got special permission to enter Beff's studio during those hours so I could carry her bass clarinet,
camcorder, and other stuff she wanted me to bring (in return, I brought the guitar back). Beff has the East
House studio, an L-shaped live-in concoction in the basement of one of the buildings, and she played me
her guitar and mandolin piece (the MIDI did all the bends and stuff, very cool -- who knew Finale could do
that?) and her big band piece she wrote for the Edith Jones project. That indeed was very cool, and it swung
(even in the MIDI). Since Edith Jones is actually the name of a dog, Beff called her piece "Winifred Goes

Outside." Winifred is the little dog the Colburns own that she encountered on her way to Yaddo.
We checked in at the Super 8 motel near the Wilton Mall and across from Wal-Mart, and then walked
around the downtown of Saratoga Springs, walking towards Skidmore College until we got tired of it. On
the way back we encountered a fortress-type house on the Main Street, even with a guard. We couldn't tell
if it was a church or a museum, but apparently it's an actual house. Hot damn. Then we played around in
the big bookstore and went into the stationery and art supplies store that looks from the street like it's a hat
store. It is called Soave Fair. We joined the colonists for pre-dinner wine drinks in West House, and I got to
see the new Pink Room, which I had once had as a studio: it is no longer pink. We made puns on Elizabeth,
the filmmaker's, "brats" project about interviewing children of various kinds of walks of life (army brats is
the obvious linguistic model), coming down to Wisconsin sausagemakers' children: brat brats. After all of
this intense levity, we ate at a very nice restaurant on Union Street -- not even downtown -- where Beff had
made us a reservation. I recall having some rather rare encrusted tuna meal, and I forgot already what Beff
had. Given the wine at drinks and the bloody Mary I ordered, I felt the need for an espresso after the meal,
so that cut short my string of coffeeless days. It's now back down to five.
Then we retired to bed in the Super 8. Next morning I filled up at a Mobil Station and took Beff on a
roundabout drive that used to be one of my exercise bike rides. I also promised to show her the barn where
Funny Cide (last year's Derby winner) was brought up, but I apparently forgot an important turn and went
around 20 miles out of our way. No biggie, since Beff made it in plenty of time for breakfast, and I could
get on the road for Northampton. Where I had a nice Thai lunch with David Sanford, who is doing well
both personally and professionally. Then it was on to Maynard, where two desperate kitties wanted some
canned food, and they wanted it now (which in context means then, but you get the notion).
The next day, Sunday, was the beginning of this year's leaf raking odyssey. From the front yard and
driveway I raked up 7 barrels of leaves and brought them to rest in my two hiding places. As of now, I and
Martler have raked up 21 barrels of leaves and pine needles (at least 6 barrels are pine needles), with more
to come. Beff comes back next Thursday, and her muscle is being counted on. Monday and Tuesday were a
bit too wet for leafing, so Wednesday and Thursday were the next days for it. Alas, so many leaves are still
on the trees that duplicate raking is in store. Hee hee. Also yesterday I brought in the hammock and the
Adirondack chairs for the season. So this colder weather thing is getting pretty serious.
Martler got here on Monday night, and in record time. He had said he wouldn't get through customs until
9:30, and thus that the Framingham Express bus he was able to get wouldn't get to Framingham until 10:15
or 10:45. But then he called at 8:37 and said he was just about to get on the bus, which was just about to
leave. Wow. And I got there at 9:20 and Martler was already there. Later in this update, I'll let Martler tell
you what's been a-goin' on. Basically, Maynard is his personal artist colony while he is here, but he also is
being put in the service of raking and clearing leaves. Mostly I've been gone during the day, but when I am
around and he is working, I usually curb the impulse to call out, "did you hear that, or are you rationalizing
it?" And of course, Martler helped greatly with the string of no beer being broken, rather dramatically. As of
today, I am off beer again.
I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday for several things. I had another blood test, and I wanted to find
out why I have not been sleeping much later than 1 am most mornings since the beginning of August. He
had a few possibilities, and right now we're working with "sublimating and internalizing chairman
pressures" -- so I got a mild sedative. Option 2, should the sedative not work out, may be actual depression.
Oh boy, my favorite. It runs in my family. For the record, I took a sedative last night and slept as late as 3
am. That may be better. Big, serious doings at Brandeis this week are, of course, exacerbating things, and I
am within a hair's breadth of finally submitting my resignation as Chair.
21 years now since I got the 'Nard album on vinyl and Ross and I used to listen to it all the time because of
the cool funky beats, and the way Ross would stick his butt out when dancing to "Chillin' Out." I spent
mucho bucks to get it on CD, as it is available only as a Japanese import. I also got 'Nard's only other CD,
which is mostly a real bust, being gobbled up by ridiculous '80s synth sounds. If I'd known that there was a
picture of a break dancer on the cover, I would have known better.

Yesterday the UDRs (Undergraduate Department Reps) held a Meet the Majors party with lots of junk
food, and plenty of students and faculty came. They also held a raffle in which my new CD was a prize, as
was Lunch With Davy. Lianna Levine was the winner of Lunch With Davy, to take place at The Stein as
soon as is convenient. I did mention that Lunch With Davy was not the same thing as Take a Class with
Davy.
The five etudes from the Martian Counterpoint album have made it in streaming form onto the
artofthestates web page, and you can see for yourself by following the link under "A Little Bit of Davy on
the Web" on thi Home of this site. The show itself is not up, but the repertoire for it is there and available.
Sometimes it's fun listening to the streaming audio because at times it sounds like bad FM reception.
Soozie called! We talked for quite a while about various things relating to songs, a recording she's making,
and the Violin Songs that she's singing at CMSLC next month. We made sure she had the correct version of
those songs. And she got the brilliant idea of getting me to include "The Gardener" in a larger set of settings
of sex poems, using the same ensemble. She is currently in search of such sex poems, and I relish the
opportunity. Especially as it would go onto this recording. And especially as it means writing some more
for Soozie. She said she was sending a picture that I was not to include in this space, and I haven't because I
haven't gotten it.
The neighbor in the IUBR (Incredibly Ugly Blue Ranch) is digging a big rectangular hole in his back yard.
To what end I do not know.
Now it is time for the MARTLER portion of our blog. And here he is. I'm putting him in another color,
because you're worth it. Vacation pix
Kitty pix
Martler here. As before, I'll keep this brief in view of my host's habitual prolixity. (Hey, look it up.) Davy
has been a fine host of course. He cooks. We've had salmon burgers, chicken burgers/sandwiches (a nice
distinction) and, er, burger burgers. All nearly fat-free and delicious. MY RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Trader Joe's peppered cashews, Altoids, burgers. And, in deference to the season, THINGS
WHICH WOULD MAKE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE ONE YOU HAVE NOW:
phosphorescence, an empty Altoids tin, a bed sore.
So the deal is I'm on leave from teaching and here to write music, shamelessly using Davy (and, in her
absence, Beff) as a DIY artist colony. Why Davy (and, in her absence, Beff) should have agreed to having a
smoking and beer-drinking limey hang at their house for weeks on end is a mystery the key to which, I
suspect, can only be found in the annals of exceptional friendship. D & B rock, for those not already aware
of this truth.
The week so far has been unexpectedly coloured (that's 'colored' to you) by the Red Sox playoffs against
the Yankees, which Davy and I have watched since Tuesday. Well, how could I not take an interest after the
pilot of my incoming plane started making update announcements as soon as we made landfall over
Newfoundland? Now I have to try and resist watching the World Series, but man it's hard.
Oh, and raking leaves. That's what else has been going on. Mostly by Davy, but a couple of barrels' worth
by me. I gotta get a little more with the programme there. And on the beer front too - I have been leading
our host astray. So when I see him delving in the fridge I'll just grab it from him and drink it myself.
Oh, did I mention the kitties are every bit as cute as they appear. No? Well...
Today's pictures are a mere five. Two of the cats -- and I think one may be a repeat. And three of the two of
us dealing with the leaves in the driveway on Wednesday. After this is posted, I shall shower, and -- alas -move on to the pine needles in the side yard and in the back yard. Also, I think Martler wants to do the tour
of the Orchard House in Concord (the Alcott House) and of course at some point this weekend we will to
the Chicken Bone Saloon.

NOVEMBER 6. Breakfast this morning was a meatless breakfast sausage patty with 2% milk cheese and
decaf French roast coffee. Dinner was salmon burgers and salad with homemade dressing. Lunch was

Chef-Boy-Ar-Dee nonfat ravioli. LARGE EXPENSES this week were none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Freak Out, by who knows whom. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 26.3 and 69.3.
RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 11 -- it's Guggenheim
season, people! DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK was that I pack leaves into barrels tight, Beff eases them in.
THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why do you think they call them "Deans"? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Martler's Altoid sours, chipotle stuffed olives, real lemonade. NUMBER
OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY
LAST REAL COFFEE: 7. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD
BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a garden rake, a barrel of pine cones, a dead
fly, two pieces of stale toast.
After I type this, but likely before I post it, we will be meeting Ken and Hillary at the Wing Bone saloon for
wings and the usual stuff. Beff has said that she does NOT want the sexy fries (waffle fries), which she
describes as a mere "ketchup delivery system," rather the curly fries, which give you more bang for the
buck. We might also ask, finally, what "Roman" wings are. For the driving nerd in all of you, I'll let you
know that I plan on a roundabout route, through downtown Natick rather than downtown Framingham,
which has oodles of poopy construction.
Things at work are horrid, and we are in crisis mode, morale is extremely low, and everyone is in a bad
mood, expecially me. I get cc:'s of everyone's letter to the Dean exhorting he keep the composition
program, which I store and will print for some eventual large package. We had a faculty meeting, for which
I did the minutes at 8:30 this morning. As Beff noted, "I know of no other department where the Chair does
the minutes." And both times there I typed "minuets" instead of "minutes." You can see what I'd MUCH
rather be doing. So in my life and in my work I am bummed and depressed. Enough said about work.
Yesterday Beff and I walked into town so I could renew a prescription, etc., and Beff was making movies of
the wind -- which was whipping up ferociously yesterday. She made movies of trees blowing, and leaves
blowing in whirlwinds, etc., and even made movies of our little dog friends -- including one mounting the
other. If any of you almost eleven need such a movie, well, we won't give one up. Where the dogs are,
though, Beff started making a movie of me -- ME! I'm a movie star! -- and my cap blew off. We have
posted that movie for your viewing pleasure, above.
And last night after the salmon burgers, we went to the Fine Arts cinema in Maynard to see The
Incredibles. Which was a silly dumb movie that we both liked a lot. I started thinking that the soundtrack
would be nominated for a Pulitzer Prize and maybe beat out by some art movie soundtrack that is released
only in L.A. next month. But then I got a hold of myself. Not literally, but you get the idea. Anyway, the
movie come highly recommended, but alas there are no fake outtakes at the end.
Of course, raking goes on and on. The big wind from yesterday did certainly help loosen some stuff for
raking today, and we did nine barrels already this morning. Wow, faculty meeting minutes and nine barrels,
all before lunch! If anyone is Mr. Incredible, it's me. There was also raking on other days this week, and the
running total is now 93 barrels raked. The yard where the oak tree is the last bit to do, and we are waiting
for those leaves to fall, too. Then I think we'll mostly hang up our rakes.
Because, after all, Beff goes to the Copland House on Wednesday. And to Memphis on Thursday. And then
back to Copland House. And then to Providence next week. And then to my Chamber Music Society perf
on the 18th. I'm still trying to figure out my travel plans for that week, but maybe if I do an update next
week I'll let you know.
Martler went to NYC on Monday and we haven't heard his plans for returning yet. Well, other than that it
will be by bus. But as to when, we do not know. We let him take us to the Blue Room Grill in Cambridge
on Saturday as his sort of rent payment, and the food was very good indeed. And I had espresso, thus
setting the clock on the real coffee countup back to 0. We also had (shudder) beer before dinner at the
Cambridge Brewing Company next to the restaurant, and it was good brother, it was good brother, it was

god-dam good.
We tried cleaning the window fan from the bathroom, but the dust was too internally caked to do much
about it, and it was very hard to get open -- dadburn plastic construction -- so I went to K-Mart for a new
one. They didn't have any, no surprise. Got one from Ace Hardware in Acton, and now it's in the window.
It's MUCH louder than the last one. Oh dear, I'm afraid I might have to look at Tar-zhay for one on one of
these drives back from work.
I talked about TEN OF A KIND in Jessie Ann Owens's Symphony class yesterday, and apparently I did
fine. We looked at structure, cyclical things, and I got to tell lots of stories about what makes the piece
American. Mostly it was funny stories about a Massachusetts Yankee in Col. Foley's court, but you get the
idea. Then New Music Box featured Yotam Haber, who had won a band composition prize for a piece he
wrote for Cornell and showed me last spring when the players were having trouble. I made a lot of
comments, and for that I got "mentoring" credit in the little feature article. Mentor spelled inside out is
tnoerm.
Luckily, there were no concerts for me to attend last week. Tonight it's grad composers, tomorrow the
Brandeis Wellesley Orchestra, and Thursday the NEC Wind Ensemble -- I do dinner with Gusty, who has a
piece on the concert, before the concert. And what it is, too.
Pictures this time include how the cats loved the box the VCCA sent me; territory raked; territory yet to
rake; both cats snapped this afternoon; and highlights from lunch with Hillary and Ken at the Chicken Bone
Saloon, which just a little earlier in this update was still in the future. Funny how time flies.

NOVEMBER 12. Breakfast this morning was decaf coffee, orange juice and a b'eggel from South Street
Market, down the street from the music department on the other side of the commuter rail tracks. Dinner
was chicken satay and chicken teriyaki at a restaurant near NEC. Lunch was nothing (I forgot. So sue me).
LARGE EXPENSES this week were dinner with ART, $64, parking near NEC, $17. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS I Love The Way You Move by Outkast. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: my junior year in high school singing in the chorus in the Christmas
concert, we were singing "Fum, Fum, Fum." Halfway through my voice squeaked, and it struck me as
highly amusing -- amusing enough that I sort of laughed while singing the rest of the tune, and it caught on
in those near me. Afterwards the others who were also laughing during the performance asked what had
been so funny. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 17.8 and 64.4.
RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK was how insidious the Rhapsody in Blue is -- I couldn't get it out of my head for three days,
especially (one of) the (many) cadenza(s) with figuration around repeated notes. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDRY: If today is the first day of the rest of your life, then what is tomorrow? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Altoid sours, pepperoncini, Buffalo wings. NUMBER OF FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL
COFFEE: 13. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the sound of one hand clapping, a tree falling in the
forest, the two mountains created without a valley between, yo mama.
I write from a winter wonderland. Early this morning as I got up and went to Brandeis, They That Make
had promised rain for today mixing with and changing to snow overnight, dusting to an inch. Right now at
2:30 in the afternoon, there is certainly more than that, and the forecast is upped to 2-4 inches by the end of
the storm. They That Make are as accurate on this one as I am at predicting precisely when the chords at the
end of the first movement of Stravinsky's Symphony in C will come. Martler was raking leaves just
yesterday -- having brought the season total to 99 barrels -- and I don't want to be shoveling in such close
proximity (temporally) to raking. It's just not right, it's just not fair, etc.
Nonetheless, I did go into Brandeis briefly this morning to pick up some financial statements (joy of joys),
and on the way home went to visit Nancy Redgate, our dept. administrator who has been out sick for more

than three weeks. She is in a facility in Sudbury, and was getting the royal treatment. It was good to see her,
I stayed an hour and a half, and she obviously likes company -- if you would like to visit, drop me a line
and I'll tell you where to go. From her window I spied the light sleet becoming very light snow, becoming
heavier snow. Which was not accumulating when I got home, but which has done so since then. Since
getting home, I've been interviewed by the Brandeis Justice (student newspaper) about the proposed cuts in
composition, arranged lunch tomorrow in Hudson with Geoffy, and dealt with the newest 50 (exactly) emails.
As to the proposed cut in composition: things move forward. More work for me. Morale is low.
Musicologists are in Seattle.
On the other hand, Wednesday and Thursday nights I had, for the first time in more than a month and a
half, full night's sleep. There is no rational basis for this fact other than accumulation of the need, or maybe
somebody hit me very hard on the head with a hammer when I wasn't looking. To be fair, people with
"Dean" in their title have been doing that to me FIGURATIVELY on a regular basis, but it doesn't happen
to me LITERALLY that often.
Also as I type, Martin is a-bed with a fever. I don't even know if "a-bed" is an actual expression, but it
seems limeyish to me. Martin got back from New York on Wednesday, and I picked him up in Framingham
at 5ish, after a pointful meeting -- where, because it was rush hour, we went across the way to eat at John
Harvard's restaurant in Shopper's World. We shared buffalo wings, Martler got a cheddarburger, I got the
Veronica Salmon with the garlic mash. You could probably tell which of us paid. Meanwhile, Martin has
gone back to working on the dining room table, and I made SURE he raked yesterday in the last bastion of
unraked leaves -- just in back of the garage. Yesterday I had nervous energy at 6:45 am, so I went out and
did three barrels worth myself, and Martler did three barrels later in the day (we're now up to 99, as stated
above). I had planned on finishing the job when I got back this morning -- there's maybe one or two barrels
left to rake and then we're THROUGH, THROUGH, THROUGH! -- but they that make made that which
was made into a joke. Am I making sense to you?
On Saturday after this update, Beff and I drove to Framingham for another episode of the Wing Bone
Saloon saga, sharing a table with Ken and Hillary. Unfortunately, Hillary loves it at Harvard (she doesn't
know yet that it's inferior to Brandeis), and also unfortunately, Ken discovered the consummate joy of
people that invite you to meetings. Ken, welcome to the junior tenure track position hell we know as "the
junior tenure track position hell." Nonetheless, there were many wings, fries and Bloody Maries to go
around, and we stopped at a Dairy Queen after our meal. Ken used the rest room there, and they looked
very put out when he asked.
Beff is in Memphis doing a clarinet master class as I type this. She has already started her residency at the
Copland House, which was one day old when she had to drive to LaGuardia, circle the airport for 40
minutes to find the parking she prepaid online, couldn't locate, and ended up parking in the long term lot.
Tonight she returns, to the rainy version of this storm. Yesterday after my Chair's meeting (these are always
fun because the most mundane mere announcements become subjects of great controversy with this group),
Beff called my office to look on the web and find out the contact number for the U Memphis music
department. Turns out her plane was late, and she wanted them to know that. This was like the time that
Stacy and Joe were driving to Minneapolis and called me to go online and find out where they would
encounter IHOPs on their trip. But I digress, and horribly so.
So speaking of Beff, we had our last day of fun before she left for Copland House on Tuesday afternoon,
where we conspired to locate places to get movie footage for her next video and instruments project, about
making a concordance of the wind. With our digital cameras, she got a little footage of the books in the
Harvard (the town, not the University) public library, she got some footage of the view near Fruitlands, and
then she had an idea: we put an unabridged Shakespeare volume on one of the window seats, opened the
window, and I aimed her hair dryer at the book, thus turning the pages slowly. She got some rather good
(and retro, frankly) shots, including a few where Cammy jumped into the picture. Cammy may be afraid of
leaf blowers, but a hair dryer doesn't bother him at all. At night, I suppose we had salmon burgers or
something.

On Sunday, I went into Brandeis for the seventh consecutive day (that string is now at twelve) for the
orchestra concert, and it was really good. The orchestra is far, far better than the version that played the
Beethoven 4 a number of years ago, and the number of ringers was fairly low -- one of them was a
trombonist I went to college with, who I was surprised to see. (guilt did NOT set in for me to volunteer my
trombone skills for this group) Adam Marks -- one of two undergraduates at Brandeis in the late 90s whose
name is a complete sentence (Gordon Withers was the other one) was the soloist for Rhapsody in Blue, and
he was very, very good. Neal Hampton did a great job cuing the orchestra, and I discovered and
orchestrational nicety that I hadn't been aware of previously -- the little accented clarinet trills in the first
big phrase are doubled in a harmon-muted trumpet. (too bad that was Grofe's idea and not Gershwin's) In
all, I was impressed by the orchestra of the department I chair. From on high, I approve. Adam Marks is
doing grad school in New York, premiered one of my etudes (#42, Madam I'm Adam) and plays Fists of
Fury like nobody's bidness.
I got the prototype of the ad for Lincoln Center Chamber Music Society thing that will be in the NY Times
this weekend -- almost eleven of you, save it for me? -- and it's big, has a lot of information, and I am -- get
this -- saluted. They must have heard that I wrote for a military band or something like that. It also has a list
of all previous Stoeger Prize winners. Whoa, me and Kaija, down by the schoolyard. I dig it. I go there on
Wednesday, meet with Soozie and Curt at Juilliard in the afternoon (I plan on taking a 2:00 train from
Cortlandt Manor, or however you spell that -- near the Copland House), possibly meet a Brandeis funder,
and then go back. Thursday, the day of the performance, who knows how I will spend the day? I did speak
with and exchange e-mails with a very nice woman at the Brandeis House in NYC about meeting people
important to the music department, but schedules haven't worked out yet. Plus, they can't exactly be invited
to the Lincoln Center performance because it is SOLD OUT! This is why the weather here today is a cold
day in hell -- a concert of Dusapin, Froom, and Rakowski managed to sell out. Or was a sellout. Or
whatever.
Last news to report is that I actually went into Boston for a band concert last night. The NEC wind
ensemble was doing a new band piece called GALAXY DANCE by Gusty Thomas, and she invited me to
dinner and the concert. I paid for dinner (she likes her sake incredibly hot), and liked her piece a lot. It's
different from the other pieces of hers I know, but that's not why I like it. It didn't sound like a band piece,
and that's only part of why I liked it. Whoa, there were some great low register tunes in the beginning and
end. She got to use three double basses, though, and that will limit future performances. She was modest,
predicting that no one would ever perform the piece again. We sat behind a very old woman who loved the
piece and couldn't stop talking about it.
And that's my week. Rather more than I thought I would be able to talk about.
Today's pictures begin with two of the Winter Wonderland here at about 2:30. There is more now. Followed
is the sunset from a few nights ago. Then there is an extreme closeup of a scratch on my hand I got from
Cammy when we were bringing him in and he was spooked by the sound of a leaf blower in the next yard
and he bit. We finish with two cat pictures from the "awwww...." category.
NOVEMBER 20. Breakfast this morning is Morningside Farms vegetarian breakfast patties with nonfat
cheese slices. Dinner was sauteed chicken with onions and garlic a la Martler. Lunch had been snacks on
the road. LARGE EXPENSES this week were train tickets to New York, $17.50 round trip off peak, $22
peak, and dinner after the Double Exposure concert, $80. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I
TYPE THIS Hyperblue, recording from the premiere. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in a
grad seminar at Princeton, we were doing the obligatory exercise of analyzing each other's pieces. I did a
little piece by Jody Rockmaker that turned out to be ABABA form, which I prounounced by twiddling my
finger on my lips. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 16.0 and 61.3.
RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK the hiking area near the Copland House. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: What do we do
with all the nitrogen in the air when we breathe it? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: SMAK
pickles -- just opened the last jar. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN
THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 1. DAYS SINCE MY LAST

BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE
A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a piece of stained glass, yesterday's newspaper, a
tree that fell in the forest, a cup of tepid coffee.
It is Saturday as I type this. Last week's winter wonderland crested at four inches, which I shoveled; now it
is gone. Yesterday's weather was back into the 60s, which the weather guy on TV called "springlike."
Martler finished raking the yard behind the garage, carrying the season total to 101 barrels, and that's where
the total will stay. Last year's total was 99-1/2, so this would be more.
Even though I continue to hate my job, I continue to do it. As soon as I finish here, I'll be in my office
working on a report. What fun! Then I will deal with the e-mail that accumulated while I was in New York.
Speaking of which. I went to the Copland House and stayed with Beff there for two nights while doing the
Chamber Music Society stuff and a few things for Brandeis. The house is a nicely designed place with a
great working space for a composer (good thing, since one bought it), and plenty of leafy, hilly yard. When
I arrived, people with leaf blowers told me to park elsewhere, which I did. And I learned the lay of the land,
so to speak. I had a rehearsal in the City at 4 with Soozie and Curt, so I learned about the 1:17 train from
Cortlandt, arriving about an hour later, and the stunning views of the Hudson on the trip. I talked a bit with
my old buddy from Orpheus, Valerie, who now works for the Chamber Music Society, before the rehearsal,
and we relived old times a bit. She happens to be a fun one. Our rehearsal was next door, at Juilliard, and I
heard my Violin Songs for the very first time. At first the first two songs sounded generic to me, and the
last three pretty good. With rehearsal, things got better, which is good because they were already fantastic.
Soozie has about a million vocal shadings, which she used to good effect -- I've hardly ever heard so much
variety even within single songs.
I got the 6:03 train back from Grand Central, and Beff and I had a Freschetta frozen pizza (heated up) for
dinner. Which we ate in Aaron Copland's house. At the dining room table donated by Lou Karchin. In
Aaron Copland's house. For lunch that day, we had done a new Italian restaurant in Cortlandt near the A&P
that had no sign on it -- nonetheless, the chicken I had was quite good, and we were the only customers for
the entire time we were there. Meanwhile, after checking some e-mail (dial-up!) after dinner we retired to
bed, to meet Thursday head-on by hiking a bit in the Washington Preserve or something like that. After
which we got dressed up, had an Indian buffet lunch with Michael Boriskin, and took the 2:17 to New
York. I had promised to meet a friend of Brandeis at Brandeis house, and I got pretty fretted and wired
when I couldn't catch a cab outside of Grand Central for about 10 minutes. Finally we got a gypsy cab to
Brandeis house, on time, where we were told we were going to the house of the friend of Brandeis -another cab ride! -- but we got a cab in one second. Understandably, I was wired as I tried to describe what
the music department does, and I was excused to go to my 5:00 sound check. Got another cab, oh joy.
The event itself was pretty spectacular. David Froom was there (we had only met once before, but exchange
e-mails once in a while), and Curt played his solo violin sonata quite spectacularly. Soozie and Fred Sherry
and Alex Fiterstein did a Dusapin piece. The concert ended with my violin songs, which in both
performances came off marvelously -- in particular, the fourth song was just amazing. One person said that
song was a "masterpiece." My head got really, really big. And for the first time, I liked all five songs. We
sat at a table on the side with Judy Sherman and Hayes Biggs (one of these things is not like the other) and
had a grand old time. Judy doesn't know I voted for her for the Classical Producer of the Year Grammy.
Because, you see, I am a Grammy voter.
The Double Exposure series always has Bruce Adolphe, their composer in residence, giving patter and
introducing the composers and asking them questions, and he and I turned into a fairly effective comedy
team (he complimented my tie, I said "enjoy the show," he talked about "21st Century playback" in Finale,
etc.). After the first show, there was the official Stoeger Prize presentation, and the exec director Norma and
co-artistic director Wu Han presented me with a giant replica of the Stoeger check I had already cashed last
January. My one-sentence speech mentioned "big bucks" (tee hee), and then there was the talking to people
in between shows, while also posing for several official photographs. Then in the second show, Soozie
actually had to answer some questions from the audience, since she had chosen the poems. Nonetheless, the
second performance was even better.

So I drove back yesterday, did some chores, and let the cats outside while the Maids came to clean. Cammy
stayed hidden for quite some time, not coming back in until dusk. Meanwhile, Sunny was in a neighbor's
yard investigating a local cat, but I retrieved him from an ignominious fate. Whatever that would mean. So
I grilled some eggplant on the grill outside, and it was good, brother. Martler improvised a sauteed chicken
stir fry recipe that he says he got from Jeff Perry (who used the phrase, "use a lot more garlic than you
think" or some variation thereof). It was good. And, eventually, farty.
There was not much to do on the weekend, since Martler was somewhat ill and there was snow
everywhere. I didn't take any pictures. But I took plenty of them at the Copland House. This coming week
will be Thanksgiving there with Hayes and Susan, and we got some of the food -- including the turkey
(breast only, no legs, etc.) -- in advance. So I will be leaving on Wednesday morning for yet another stint
there. Meanwhile, Martler goes back to England on Monday morning. It will be desolate here. But the
leaves will still be all raked. And Generalissimo Franco will still be dead.
I had walked from Times Square to the Chamber Music Society on Wednesday, stopping several times
along the way to see if anyone had the Time Out NY issue with Danny's review of the second etude disc;
most newsstands no longer had that issue, but one did. So I got it. Read it on Reviews, Page 3. The
"masterpiece" comment at Double Exposure gave me a big head. Danny's review gave me a "bulging
brain." So the two of them kind of work together.
This week's pictures are all from the Copland house and nearby area. We have Thursday's sunrise, pictures
of the house, a picture of the big picture window (see me in the reflection), a pillow that there is a picture of
Copland posing with, a sign with a tree grown around it in the preserve, me on the phone in the preserve
(talking to Brandeis House), and me on the porch holding my oversized check. The number of "will it fit
through the ATM?" comments I got was legion.
NOVEMBER 26. Lunch this afternoon was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausages with Shaws
nonfat cheese slices. Breakfast was actual coffee, but not much of (I left some of it, after it had been
processed by my body, in a rest area between Waterbury, CT and Hartford). Dinner was turkey white meat,
summer squash that had been converted (by me) into an I Can't Believe It's Not Butter delivery system,
garlic mash potatoes, Stove Top stuffing, Franco American canned turkey gravy, beer, wine, apple pie, and
vanilla ice cream. LARGE EXPENSES this week were none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS
I TYPE THIS Hyperblue, recording from the premiere (same as last week). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: only once in my entire time in elementary school or high school did I have to stay after
school for bad behaviour; after a film strip in fifth grade, for some reason I felt it was hilarious to throw my
pencil repeatedly on the desk of the girl in front of me. I stayed after school and filled a page with "I will be
a good boy in school." I think it worked. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 26.1 and
64.8. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK more of the hiking area near the Copland House and a view to the Hudson through a clearing
made for gas lines going through and over the mountains. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Does time
pass in one continuous stream (analog), or an infinite number of infinitessimals (digital)? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: SMAK pickles -- the last ones I had are finito -- olives stuffed with
exotic things, and of course, turkey. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN
THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST
BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE
A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a plastic deli sandwich holder, the lead of a pencil,
the pile of hair on the floor of the barber at the end of the day, a drop of hot oil.
It was a long weekend with plenty of stuff to do -- on both Saturday and Sunday mornings I went in to
Brandeis to work on some documents and to cajole those responsible for parts of one document to do their
writing. On Saturday, Alison Carver came down to see Martler and I saw them before they went out to the
Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. They then went on to the Orchard House in Concord, where Louisa May Alcott
had grown up, and took the tour. At night, we went to the Neighborhood Pizzeria for the first time since it
moved onto Main Street across from The Barber Who Talks Too Much So I Don't Go There Any More. We
got buffalo wings and salad, and the wings were so peppery hot (meaning: really great) that Martler

couldn't finish his.

And then on Sunday, Martler promised to take me out for seafood at the Quarterdeck Restaurant, so we
walked there, and it was close. So instead we went to the Blue Tiger Grill in Maynard, but I may have
gotten the name of that wrong -- Beff always corrects me when I bring it up. It used to be called Amory's,
which was way easier to remember. I got the grilled salmon, and Martler got the half-rack of ribs and steak
tips special. I don't remember what we talked about, except that there was too much food on Martler's plate
to eat. There was plenty of football to watch, and we watched Miami not do too well.
Monday and Tuesday were crammed with teaching, as I had moved all the Wednesday teaching to earlier in
the week. On Monday morning, Martler and I left in the car at 5:55 am to get him to the airport, and he
disembarked from the Corolla in front of Terminal B, Logan, at 6:40; I then arrived at Brandeis at about
7:05. Martler is probably back in limeyville now, unless he was making something up. After all, I left him
off at a domestic terminal, not the internation one (which would be E). Then at 9 on Monday I saw my
Wednesday at noon student (had nothing new), sat in on Jeff Roberts's PhD oral exam (he passed), and
drove to NEC to see my two students there (they both had nothing new). On Tuesday, I had my two
Tuesday students, followed by my Wednesday at 9 student (forgot to show up) and my Wednesday at 11
student (DID have music!), peeked in on Gil and commented on his G minor invention (which he had just
written on his own because it interested him), and took to 2:06 train into North Station.
From North Station, I took the Orange Line to Forest Hills and back. In between those trips, I met with Gil
Rose at and near the BMOP offices -- in the same building as a Masonic Hall converted into a recording
studio -- and we came up with a schedule and a strategy for the Davy orchestral CD. Piece for BMOP on
the way. "Winged Contraption" for the "has some relationship to NEC" concert a year from January. Now I
just have to find the right timing to resign as Chair. Fat chance, huh?
It took a mere three hours to drive to the Copland House on Wednesday, and I got there while Beff was out
shopping and the weekly maid service was in the house. And boy did I have to go to the bathroom. So the
maid let me in, and I used the rest room, and encountered Beff returning with Thanksgiving food right
afterwards. "Been here long?" she said. What a pickup line, I thought. It was quite mild outside on
Wednesday; nonetheless, we drove south to whatever is just south of Cortlandt to use a post office and eat
Japanese -- a Japanese restaurant was listed on the Copland House literature -- but the restaurant was gone.
So we got some nice stuff at a gourmet store, and then drove into town for a second-rate Chinese buffet.
When we got back, Beff did some video work and I read the paper. Then Hayes and Susan arrived around
3, and we came on home and spread ourselves out.
At about 3:45, Hayes served us all beers. I figured if we started with beer this early we would run out
quickly, so Susan and I drove down to a beer store and got some very good beer -- including a Blue
Something winter ale that was very good. We also got Spanish Peaks ale, which is now made in Saratoga
Springs -- so our bragging about eating in the Spanish Peaks brewery in Montana was deflated by the new
circumstances. But they did have big smoking chairs for cigar smokers. That will always be true. Then we
bopped over to the A&P in Cortlandt for Cool Whip and vanilla ice cream for the pies that Susan had
brought. For dinner, I whipped up a bunch of soup from mixes purchased at the Porter Exchange in
Cambridge -- all of them Thai hot and sour soups -- and salad. Cool. After dinner, we watched "Dead
Again," much of it to the derision and scorn of all of us.
On Thanksgiving Day (yesterday), Beff and I exceeded the waking up time of Hayes and Susan by about
two hours, so we were already wired with caffeine as they emerged. Since it was quite mild out and there
were peeks of sun, we went to the hiking area nearby and took a rather long hike -- photographic evidence
below. On the road in the preserve were many piles of discarded things, including a big pile of mattresses
and a whole office. Hmmph. At about 1 I put the incomplete turkey breast we had bought into the oven,
basted it every fifteen minutes, and then worked on all the other accoutrements. Dinner was at about 4:15,
and seemed to be pretty good, even if I did put too much I Can't Believe It's Not Butter in the squash. We
were filled to the brim! Then we watched the movie of The Ice Storm to fill the time until The Apprentice
(a show for which I don't care at all), and it was fun to see a movie with Tuesday Addams, the chick from
Pieces of April, the head elf from The Santa Clause, Spiderman AND Frodo. Alas, Frodo is the one who

dies in this movie. I thought it was a pretty good movie, though I know the author has reservations both
about it and about the original novel. Sigourney Weaver played against type the way Mary Tyler Moore did
in Ordinary People. And the child actor to whom Christina Ricci said "I'll show you mine if you'll show me
yours" (the part I'd seen surfing through cable about eight times) seemed familiar. One of these days I'll
figure out where I saw him before.
I went to bed before The Apprentice came on -- had to get home to feed the cats. I left this morning at 7:30,
was in Hartford by the time Hayes and Susan woke up, arrived at home at 10:30, took the garbage to the
street (probably not soon enough -- there were NO other garbage cans out nearby), changed the cat litter,
mailed the bills to Beff, got more cat litter and cat food at Shaws, and came back to type this stuff out. I had
left a big bowl of dry food for the cats in addition to their regular dry food, and it was ALL GONE when I
got back. These cats can eat. They can poop, too.
So the next big thing coming up not related to the job I hate, hate, HATE is Midwest Conference in about
two and a half weeks. Whoa, five days in Chicago with nary a Chair thing to do. Woo hoo. Meanwhile, I
have to try and find some old scores because of inquiries made at Peters. Don't hate me for being beautiful.
Today's pics from the Copland House: the dining room, Beff at work, the Hirshfeld portrait, outdoors, the
hiking picture, the town viewed through the clearing, and pans of the studio and dining room.
DECEMBER 4.. Breakfast this morning is Trader Joe's French Roast decaf coffee, orange juice, and
eventually Morningside Farms meatless sausage patties with nonfat cheese. Dinner was a Healthy Choice
microwave meal of a lasagna and chicken patty or something like that, and salad. Lunch had been a big, big
salad with Campari tomatoes and homemade salad dressing. LARGE EXPENSES this week were $89 for
various sundries at BJ's, and I started to fill my shopping cart at amazon. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of "Scatter", one of the Three Encores I just entered into Finale.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I used to be able to do a standing broad jump pretty far -- 8'
5-1/2" when I was in eighth grade, which they told me was the record. In ninth grade I could only do 6' 9"
because of the slippery sneakers I had and my parents didn't buy me new ones too often. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 23.2 and 56.5. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS WEEK 13(!). DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK a place in the Prudential Center that sells
CryBaby Tears (at outrageous prices). THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Are "atonal" and "amoral"
parallel concepts? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: A few CryBaby Tears, deli pickles, stuffed
olives. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 1.
DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 8. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 4. FULL NIGHTS OF
SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE a coffee bean, a pair of tweezers, a pile of dog doo, a map showing the
addresses of the stars.
So since returning from the Copland House, life has been altogether boring. I went into Brandeis on Sunday
mornings to do chairman stuff that was due December 1, and I finally finished the big document
constituting our response to our Dean's proposal to phase out the graduate program in composition. While
I'm on Brandeis stuff, I'll mention that I did a lot of it. And I led a faculty meeting on Thursday, which was
mercifully short. I even went in yesterday morning for the simple purpose of delivering a two-days-late
document to the registrar.
I had planned on going in on Saturday, but Eric Chafe and his wife came over for lunch instead. We went to
the Blue Tiger -- where I had been with Martler a week earlier -- and had lunchy things and beers. I think I
got the Buffalo chicken wrap. We talked (or more precisely he talked) about his forthcoming LULU book,
and we had much fun talking about days of Brandeis past. Of course I couldn't work after the lunch and
beer, so I solved world hunger instead, and then lost the spreadsheet.
The only fun Brandeis thing was talking about my "Dream Symphony" for the Music Since 1900 class
taught by Eric Chafe. So I did. And one student said what I already know -- all three movements end slow.
Meanwhile, the students I taught at NEC were fun-having. Mary had nothing new (she made, and ate, pies

instead of writing), so we took a brisk walk down Gainsborough Street, Hemenway Street, and Boylston
Street and marched through the Pru, landing in a candy store that had CryBaby Tears by the box for $1.50.
Highway robbery, but I got eight boxes anyway, in order to spend enough to use a credit card. Then we
marched back along the Christian Science headquarters and finished the lesson on a sugar high. Nathan,
meanwhile, alas had new music so we couldn't go on a march. And later in the week a check arrived from
NEC, which happens every month, and every time I forget that it's coming. Fulfillment.
The first thing Beff said yesterday when she called was "you haven't updated your website." So what I am
doing right now (updating my website) will serve as the antidote to that problem. Believe it or not, I have
blocked off the weekend for composing -- we'll see how far THAT gets.
So during the cheap time last weekend I spoke with Stacy and Joe -- according to the phone, it was an hour
and 17 minute conversation. Stacy sent me a sex poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay that I am considering
using in my sex poems collection for Soozie. (for the uninitiated, Soozie asked for movements to be added
to "The Gardener," which is a sex poem set for voice and five instruments) I also e-mailed Rick Moody
about it, and he said he's game to write one. I will soon be asking others for advice. And if you, dear reader,
know a good singable sex poem that contrasts with what I already have, let me know.
The Chamber Music Society sent the CD of both performances of the Violin Songs, and they are
spantacular. Soozie really makes me look good. And Curt already looks good ("Curt IS jazz!"). And I
haven't yet decided which performance is better. Though the audience laughter in the second song is more
evident in the first performance.
Meanwhile, Peters had gotten some inquiries about various pieces that were obviously listed on this site,
and they revealed that they were unable to find masters of Three Encores. Ironically so, since Judy and Jim
just recorded them, and last night they even did one of the encores on their program in Princeton. They said
they had pristine scores to offer, but they had images of the coil binding on them, as well as a few of their
own markings. I sent that to Peters, but decided, on my own, to enter them into Finale. This took up
Thursday night and most of yesterday, and I can announce -- finished! Purty copies of Vocal Ease, Scatter,
and Vocal Angst now available both on paper and as PDFs. So that has been eating up my time, especially
figuring out how to do all that damn over-the-barline beaming I must have thought was really cool in
Scatter.
Beside all that, it rained really hard here on Sunday and Wednesday. And I did two loads of laundry
yesterday, including the blanket that Martler slept with. Today I must send the Encores to the publisher. Oh
yes, and I got a big thing of dry cat food, two big things of canned cat food, some campari tomatoes, and
various other sundries at BJ's on Tuesday on my way back from work. Yesterday I got various foodstuffs at
VICTORY supermarket in Waltham at 10 in the morning after delivering my document -- and saw a student
there. Who was dumbfounded that I was shopping there "on my way home." Which I was.
By the way, I think I may have managed a good night's sleep last night. Though I was awake at 1, I must
have slept later. And for the first time in months, I had dreams that I could remember -- which means I
woke up during them. And as I learned in my big, big research paper on SLEEP that I did in 7th grade,
dreams happen during the deepest part of sleep. There were even layers in the later dream -- in which I was
sitting on stage in a performance of some sort of comedy of manners, and nodded off, in the dream, waking
up, in the dream, to a scene where those assembled had to exit. There was also something about getting a
moving truck up a curvy driveway, but that seems to be unrelated, somehow. Maybe that was the first
dream.
Beff asked for cat pictures -- "are they getting big?" she always asks. I had taken no new shots this week, so
I followed them around the house and tried to get good shots. Below is the evidence. I also had a fire
because a cat litter bag was emptied and various other stuff had to be burned.

DECEMBER 10. Breakfast this morning was big. I had a Better 'n' Eggs omelette with nonfat cheese, a
bagel with nonfat cream cheese, and decaf Trader Joe's French Roast coffee. I still feel fat. Last night's
dinner was a Healthy Choice Fire Roasted Chicken microwave meal (finally emptying out the freezer).
Lunch was Udon noodles. As much fun to say as it is to eat! LARGE EXPENSES this week were more
things put into my cart at amazon (like Danny Felsenfeld's new book). I went to Staples twice with a $20
off when you spend $100 card and got nothing both times. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I
TYPE THIS "Trillium" from Violin Songs because I listened to it in the car this morning, and Soozie sings
it so gorgioso. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I took the Chicago song "Harry Truman" off
the radio my senior year in high school and got together a band to play it in the Spring Frolics using the
original instrumentation -- even had two clarinets and a Chicago-like brass section (including me on
trombone). The fast chromatic licks for the clarinets were entirely too formidable for them, but I remember
watching fork fingering going wild. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Sunset's heart murmur is no better, no worse. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why is "hair" singular and "pants" plural? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Half-sour pickles from Victory Supermarket, a few CryBaby Tears. NUMBER OF
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. DAYS SINCE MY
LAST REAL COFFEE: 15. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 11. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST
WEEK: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE an all-nighter, refrigeration, growth, intransigence (I felt like doing abstract nouns today).
I have returned from two early morning trips before typing this (10:19 am, but that could change). I went in
very early to craft a memo to the Dean appointing a first year theory teacher for the spring and put it in
campus mail; I then returned, breakfasted (if it can be thought of as a verb) and drove to Trader
Joe's/Staples to get wood and vitamins. We're nearly out, even though I know Beff has a bunch with her at
the Copland House. As the clock turns over onto 10:21, I mention that it was cool and drizzly this morning,
followed by a steady rain, and, right now, just cloudy and a little breezy. It's a crapfest of a weather day,
which suits me fine.
Much, much got done this week, including reasons to keep taking my blood pressure pills (I take Lisinopril
and hydrochlorothiazide). Last night was a student forum with the Dean and Provost wherin students got to
ask questions about the Dean's hatchet man proposals, and much emotion was shown, not to mention, lots
of poorly formed questions. But there were certainly more questions (about thirty) than there were answers
(approximately zero, but there may have been twice that). I walked up to the Forum with Eric Chafe and
back down with him, all the while finding out new funny things about old, dead people. (I already know
they smell and can't hold down food) Meanwhile, on Monday I put the finishing touches on the
department's response to the Dean's proposals, made copies, and sent them out to the relevant faculty and
administration. On Wednesday I met with the Chair of the committee that was formed to evaluate the
proposals to explicate the composition program. And when I saw what I had done, I .. wait, that's
something else.
As I had predicted, I blocked out the weekend for composing, and that's just what I did. I tried to start one
piece, but discarded the sketches, then started a sex poem setting -- a Millay sonnet that Stacy had sent me.
By the end of Sunday (during which I watched parts of the laugher of a Patriots game on TV) I had done 55
bars of the setting, making it about halfway through the text of the poem. I have also worked on the piece in
the evenings this week and during yesterday morning, and am close to finishing it. It will be finished today,
clocking in at about four minutes. So, so far, the sex poem set is nine minutes. Two or three more will be
added to it.
In the meantime, Soozie sent me some more sex poems to consider, including one by Ida Thoenkkitupp.
There is one poem I liked because it looks like a comedy thing, and I liked Ida's poem, too -- the moment I
read it I heard its accompaniment. Soozie and I had three long phone conversations, the third of which was
to call and acknowledge that she was Ida. As in, she wrote the poem, and Ida is the pen name. So we
fantasized about an elaborate bio of a reclusive poet, with umlauts on the u's and slashes through the o's.
But I spoiled the secret there, didn't I?
I also put some materials together and sent them to Rick Moody, who is writing a sex poem for the set (we

are both very excited, so to speak, about it). The package has some scores and Soozie singing stuff of mine,
so he'd know the voice he was writing for. He previewed it by saying it wasn't "a theoretical treatise on
Wittgenstein." All the better, my pretty, all the better.
I got an e-mail from Dyna Mike of the Marines with some typos in "Sibling Revelry," soon to get its
premiere under his baton, so I have the idea that the Marines have probably rehearsed it. This Wednesday,
in fact. He promised it would be "what was on the page" by the performance, but I know he's hoping for
more -- like "what's all the rage" and "what tastes like sage" and "what's in the cage", too. Mmmm,
doughnuts. So I go to Chicago on Tuesday, Beff goes to Chicago on Wednesday, and we both come back on
Sunday -- meaning no regular update of this page, or at least a very late one. AAA limo has been secured to
take me to the airport at 9, for those of you playing along at home. We are staying at the Hilton Towers in
Chicago, will see plenty of Chip (Beff's colleague), and spend a day or two with the Stacies. Chairmanship
and the Dean have weighed heavily enough that the trip doesn't make it into my consciousness yet -- an
awkward way of explaining that I been bizzy.
Rebecca writes that this readership is now up to almost twelve. But since number almost-twelve is my
weekly student and he never brings anything up, I need further proof before changing the counter on page
one. Rebecca also writes that she has contacted all the music alumni in the Brandeis database, and therefore
has a feeling of accomplishment.
"Sibling Revelry" will be recorded and video'ed for web streaming on the Midwest Clinic web page. Ask
for it by name. Pretty soon my web presence will expand so much I will exude hugeness. And you all know
how hard it is to exude. (I used to have an ude, but it broke, so it's an exude. Rim shot)
Last Thursday night and all day Friday were spent entering the Three Encores for voice and piano into
Finale, and I'm pleased to report that they are finished and proofread and ready to go. The midi of "Scatter"
is hilarious, since it doesn't swing. And I realized that Scatter, from 1991, which is a quasi-atonal scat piece
with a bitchin hard piano part, was probably my first "jazzy" piece. You mean I've got this jazzy reputation
and I've only been doing it only 13 years? Get on out!
Oh yeah. And I talked to some Brandeis alums on the weekend who were incensed about the plan, etc.
And yesterday I had to bring Sunset into the vet for his twice-yearly electrocardiogram ($205). I had to
leave him there at 7:45, he meowed loudly in the car once, and I picked him up at 1:45. He also meowed
loudly once in the car on the way back. $220 later (also $15 for "hospitalization"), we found that he is no
better, no worse, still has a teeny hole, no fluid discharge. Recommendation: bring him to Tufts for an
operation or keep taking these pictures every six months. Financially, the equivalent of paying all at once or
doing the installment plan. We chose the installment plan.
I took no pictures this week, and it's too dreary a day for new ones, so I raided the archive. Bly and Drip,
when they were alive; Beff a-makin' a face in Maine in 2003 wearing her Judy Sherman t-shirt; Dyna Mike
last July soon after becoming a Lieutenant Colonel; and those pesky little dogs between here and
downtown a-barkin' away again.

DECEMBER 22. Breakfast this morning was an egg and cheese bagel at the bagel place near Acton Toyota
on Great Road (Route 2A). Dinner was chicken with mushrooms and asparagus with leftover Thanksgiving
potatoes, and salad. Lunch was tomato sandwiches. Today's lunch was California rolls from Donelan's, on
Great Road in Acton. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST 12 DAYS 2.7 and 45.7. LARGE
EXPENSES this last 12 days include limo to the airport, $99; taxi to the Hilton from O'Hare, $45; various
items from amazon, I forget how much; meals in Chicago, ranging from $15 for breakfast to $96 for dinner;
Camry maintenance, $54; parking at the airport, $72. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS "Zipper Tango" from "Sibling Revelry" as performed by the Marines last week. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The art teachers at the Elementary School when I was in 7th grade were
Mr. Walentosky and Ms. Rinderknecht. They eventually married. I sure hope she didn't hyphenate her
name. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY

OF THE WEEK The Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago, in the dead of winter. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDRY: why is "Band in Boston" always the first pun on "band" that everyone thinks of? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Pepperoncinis, olives, Good Seasonings salad dressings. NUMBER OF
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none, but they have
batted a few videocassettes around and come close to destroying some of their own toys. DAYS SINCE
MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE
LAST WEEK: unknown, but probably 2 or 3 in 12 days. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE ability, triumph, inertia, confidence. I continue to
dig those abstract nouns.
I have returned from five days in Chicago, four of them spent with Beff, and some of it at taxpayer expense
(the Marines paid for our hotel). A lot of stuff happened, so I will try to put it all in order. First, two
weekends ago I finished the Millay sex song and started on Ida Thoenkkittupp's. That one I finished today,
and it is very pretty. Last Monday I had to go to a Chairs' meeting, and it was every bit as eventful and
interesting as advertised (the obnoxious quote that comes to mind was when Judy Bettina had to sing an
awful, awful Dick Swift piece for voice and harp many years ago, I said to Jim, "all dressed up and nothing
to sing"). Later in the day I had to do e-mail, etc., and get ready for Midwest. So I did.
On Tuesday I took AAA Limo to the airport and got my flight on United, which was smooth and on time. A
taxi got me to the Hilton Hotel, where I encountered the officer types from the Marines. They were going to
play my piece SIBLING REVELRY the next day, and they were waiting for a military plane to arrive with
most of the band. A rehearsal was scheduled that night for 10:30 -- hey, in the military you can make people
do stuff at just about any time of day. I checked in, and the front desk had had no record of me being on the
taxpayer tab, so Captain Barclay eventually fixed it (thus changing my mailing address on the hotel bill to
Washington, DC). So I got into my room and arranged to meet Dyna Mike and Jason (no cool secret
nickname yet) for dinner. Meanwhile, they found out that the plane they'd arranged to take to Chicago
hadn't shown up.
Tuesday night the three of us (see above) walked to the Berghoff, a German restaurant with nice beer, for
dinner. They teetotalled, because a rehearsal was tentative -- at this point, very tentative -- for that evening.
No-nickname and I got chicken schnitzel, which turned out to be a giant chicken parm without the cheese,
and Dyna Mike got a sausage thing. I got an amber beer on draft. Shortly, Dyna Mike's cell phone rang, he
listened for 30 seconds without saying a word, and flagged down the waiter -- "a pitcher of the amber,
please". The plane, which had been coopted by admirals and the like (which is why it didn't show up) was
ready to take the band to Chicago. Except for computer malfunction. No rehearsal. Beer flowed freely both
at the restaurant and, later, back at the hotel, where we sat at a bar and had more, and observed how royally
Marine Band types get treated in the band world.
Okay, the band world. I was not quite as prepared as I should have been for the Midwest Clinic, which is a
giant conference of, they told me, about 15,000 band directors from all over the country, of all levels. Who
becomes band directors? Band geeks. Like I was. There were 15,000 band geeks in or around middle age
everywhere the eye could see. There were lots of those moustaches that used to cover up acne but now just
look dweeby. I had to look long and hard to find a suit that cost more than $60 (mine was $100 at an outlet
in Worcester in 1998, but then again, I only wore mine once). And various military types were there from
all the services. Beff and I had name tags and ribbons that said "PARTICIPANT" and the name tags said
"Guest of US Marine Band" -- we got treated like royalty. We even got asked when we'd be touring the
west coast. Downstairs in the hotel there were four large rooms filled with exhibitors selling everything
from marching band choreography software to fund raising items (fresh fruits, wreaths, etc.) to touring
facilitators to music distributors to instrument makers to college music programs to service bands. And
more! We took plenty of trips through the exhibits, especially since Shattinger Music (St. Louis) was there
with three scores of SIBLING REVELRY, a full set of parts for same, and two scores of TEN OF A KIND
for sale. I returned often enough to know that all the Siblings sold, and one of the Tens sold. I calculate my
royalties at a little less than thirty bucks for that.
Beff was getting in Wednesday afternoon, and it was possible that she would make the first of the two
Marine Band concerts, but it was also likely that she would not (she did not). The Band finally got a plane

to get them to Chicago at noon, and all I got to hear of my piece was various brief portions in a sound
check at 5:30 (the trombones were too loud in Zipper Tango -- otherwise, nothing for me to say).
Meanwhile, I was wearing those slip-on blue winter boots that are a bit loose, and I slipped and fell on
some stairs going to the exhibits and twisted my ankle fairly seriously on Wednesday morning. I am still
limping. In any case -- I went to both Marine Band concerts, which were held in the International Ballroom.
The loudest sounds there were the air system, followed by whatever ensembles played there. There were
2500 to 3000 chairs set up, and the Marines played to Standing Room for both concerts -- which means this
was the largest audience I've ever had for a piece, surpassing Persistent Memory at Carnegie and Ten of a
Kind at the KKL in Lucerne. For both shows, I had to make opening remarks about my piece, and I did my
best to charm and not appear too geeky (I partially failed). In the first show, the downbeat happened before
I got to my seat. And hey, at the first show I met Donald Hunsberger (yes, a legend in the band world) who
knew everything about Ten of a Kind and others, and signed a bunch of programs (people discovered I had
scores of the piece being premiered so, even being band geeks, they put two and three together). The band,
by the way, was fantastic.
Beff made it to the 9:00 show, and we sat with Chip, her colleague, and Dean, a local band director in
Maine. In my opening remarks I took a page out of Carson's book and complimented the audience for being
better than the previous one. And after the show, I thanked the musicians, and the four of us did dinner in
the hotel (pizza and beer) for too much money. For Thursday, Chip wanted me to meet all these people, so I
did, and for the life of me I don't remember the names of any of them. Except maybe Dyna Mike's
conducting teacher, Tony Maiello. The most amusing bit may have been meeting Jack Stamp on the floor (I
know the name from browsing band sites). You could see him read our nametags, go through a Terminatorlike process of determining we weren't worth his while, and quickly extricating himself from the
conversation. Chip even remarked, "did you see how quickly he determined we weren't worth his time?" I
briefly brushed by Paul Whear, who was the composer of the first atonal music I ever played in band
(Stonehenge Symphony, All New England 1974). Beff got some free reeds to try and bought some clarinet
CDs. I got a combo metronome-tuner for the fun of it, and a free copy of the Vaughn Williams 6th -- and
lots of free stuff from the Marine Band booth. Oh yeah, and I ordered a CD and DVD of the Marine Band
performance. I already have a CD-R of the first concert, but it staticky. Those bastids!
Meanwhile, Beff went to the Art Institute while I stayed in the room because walking was too
uncomfortable. On Thursday we saw the Marines do the Gran Partita, which is a really, really big blow, and
they just about made it through. The oboist, which I had not seen before, was really, really good, and I'm
glad she's in my piece. And finally by Saturday morning we were ready to get out of there. Luckily Stacy
and Joe had a car, and a house to stay at. So they picked us up, we did dim sum and shopping in
Chinatown, walked around Millenium Park, went to a piano recital of Nothing But Dead Composers, did
Japanese in Evanston, watched half of Galaxy Quest, and went to bed. Then on Sunday it was the plane for
us, finding where Beff had parked the Camry in the economy lot, and driving home in advance of a little
snowstorm that eventually dropped 2 or 3 inches here. And then it got cold.
So I've listened to my CD quite a few times, and finished the third Sex Song. Rick Moody revised his poem
by adding a chorus, and we are cooking with gas. Monday I went into Brandeis to do various Brandeis
stuff. It took rather a long time to catch up to the e-mails that had accrued -- not to mention, the committee
evaluating the Dean's strategic proposal asked if music might have a response by the end of the week -LAST week. Which, luckily, Eric Chasalow had pretty much done.
And now I'm in Davy mode, if only for a short time. My hope is to start the Rick Moody poem shortly
(maybe tomorrow) and have it finished by the first week of January, at which time I'll decide if I want to
write another one for the set.
So there.
Today's pictures are all from Chicago, including: skyline from Grant Park, skyline from Michigan Ave, Beff
at Carson's Ribs, a historic building near the Zoo, the Shattinger booth at Midwest, some stairs in the
Hilton, bookend lions at the zoo, and giraffes.

DECEMBER 31. Breakfast this morning was toasted Italian bread with lowfat peanut butter on it, and
Morningside Farms meatless sausage links, with fresh squeezed grapefruit juice from Trader Joe's, and
coffee sent us from Raj. Lunch today was little pizzas purchased at Trader Joe's. Last night's dinner was
grilled chicken sandwiches, chicken having been marinated in Emeril's something, and salad with Annie
Chun's Cilantro and Sesame dressing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST 9 DAYS 7.2 and 59.0.
LARGE EXPENSES this last 9 days include hotel in Burlington, $89 for two nights, and Calvados in New
Hampshire, $32. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Kiss and Tell," a somewhat
pointless '80s tune by who knows whom. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: when I was in
sixth grade, I actually got to go to, and play in, the band for the (high school) District Music Festival. I
played second trombone, and there exists a picture somewhere (probably at Jane's house) of me in this
band, about a foot shorter than everyone else. I kept my second trombone parts, got a reel-to-reel recording
of the concert, and continued to relive the festival by playing the tape and playing along on the trombone. I
think after a while my parents asked me to do that only when they were not at home.
RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0! DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK You can, and should, use a Borders gift card on amazon.com. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDRY: why can't I grow a real beard? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: deli olives, deli
pickles, lowfat peanut butter, sugar-free popsicles, leftover turkey (which now goes mostly to the cats).
NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK lots of
leftover turkey -- not destroyed so much as inhaled. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 0. DAYS
SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: probably 9 of 12 days.
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE
chutzpah, individuality, misappropriation, transparency. I continue to dig those abstract nouns.
The Midwest clinic is now fading into dim memory, and I have been composing feverishly (it's an
expression) since the last update. Three days of the last nine were spent with the holiday traveling, as
follows. First, on Friday morning I picked up Big Mike at his condo at 6:30 am. He had totalled his car on
the way to a dental surgery (if it ain't one thing, it's anudda) on the day of the sloppy snowstorm, and he
needed a ride to Alewife so he could catch a train to a ferry for his own holiday travel. I was back at home
by 7:40, at which time I did my own packing for holiday traveling. We were to pick up Beff's brother Bob
at 9:30 at South Acton on our way to Burlington, Vermont, for Christmas. Bob called at 8:50 to say he was
running late, so we got him at 10:30 instead, and were on our way. For those playing along at home, that
involved turning left outside the train station, taking an immediate right, getting onto 27 north near the Ace
Hardware, taking it to 2 West just past the Quill and Pen, hanging onto 495 North to 93 North, taking that
into New Hampshire, paying a 75 cent toll, and getting 89 North into Vermont. Soon after arriving in our
home state, we went into White River Junction, looked for a nice restaurant Bob know about that happened
to be closed for the holidays, and did a seventeenth rate Chinese buffet instead. The hot and sour soup had
no taste, and notable available items in the buffet included pepperoni pizza slices (I had one), onion rings (I
had two), and crinkle cut fried potatoes (I had three). I didn't have any of the green jell-o. We then got back
on Route 5 South, immediately to 91 south for about 100 feet, to 89 North all the way into Burlington, at
which point we took the exit for US Route 2 East (Williston Road), turned left, and made it to the Overlake
condos, where Beff's dad lives. I'm not sure about that name. It had rained furiously the day before (also in
Maynard, where it hit 59 -- see above), and then quick-cooled to the teens by the time we got there. The
rain runoff had not had time to run off, so there was plenty of thin sheets of glare ice in the condo's
driveway area. Every time we thought we wouldn't slip, we did.
After the obligatory catching up with relatives (Ann, Dad, Matt), there was the ritual playing of hokey
Christmas music recordings and guessing the artists (I was the only one to get Eartha Kitt), and getting
albums onto Ann's computer to throw onto to her new MP3 player (which has enough built-in memory for
about 2 hours of music -- we scoffed at that puniness -- and can read from SD memory cards as well), not
to mention, distributing gifts under the Christmas tree. As usual, football was on TV, and we pretended to
be interested. We also checked in at the Clarion Hotel on Williston Road, where we got the friends and
family discount -- Ann works for a Clarion -- and at night we ate at the Windjammer, right across the road
from the Clarion, and where Ann apparently worked for about eight years. The food there was, mostly,
large. I had the chicken teriyaki, and against my best interests, ate all of it.

For those of you almost eleven (almost twelve?) thinking about staying at the Burlington Clarion in the
future, be advised that the bed was very uncomfortable, and there were not enough pillows (why THREE
for two people? -- I see a future cosmic question). Nonetheless, I slept through the night both nights,
awakening both days with back pains and leg cramps. Oh yeah, and then on Christmas we went to the
condo, opened presents (I got such useful things as a mini-sewing kit (which I traded with Beff for a set of
micro-pliers), a shirt that reads "Life is too short to cook for you people", and gift cards at Barnes and
Noble and Borders), and started cooking. Basketball was on and I pretended to be interested. And I had
small portions at dinner -- I was full from the beer that was made available to us. And Jim was there for the
day, too, leaving after dinner to drive back.
On the day after Christmas, the Weather Channel in our hotel let us know that a Winter Storm Warning had
been posted for the Boston area, and our part of the state was painted white in the "expected precipitation"
forecast for the day. This was disconcerting, given that when we left on Friday the forecast was for partly
cloudy with a chance of a flurry on Sunday. Oh, those they that make! So we had been assigned to pick up
bagels for the morning, and we rushed through breakfast, at which time I assigned the driving to Beff
"when the snow starts to pick up." Actually, there were snow squalls in both sets of mountains we drove
through, and the driving was just fine -- just one white-out -- and Bob kept saying "it'll let up once we get
over the mountains." Thus reminding me of me. And he was right. But once we got close to Massachusetts,
the snow picked up, the traffic slowed on 93 just before the 495 intersection, and in Maynard, the car slid
twice in advance of stoplights -- gfornafratz anti-lock brakes! It took a long time to unpack, but it kept
snowing, and by Monday morning there were eight inches of snow on the ground. I was going to shovel,
but the snow felt so heavy on the back sidewalk that I got out the trusty snowblower, and blew much snow
into the backyard and a healthy portion of it directly into my face -- gfornafratz wind! One of these days I
have to figure out how to change the oil on the snowblower.
Once all the weather-related stuff was taken care of, it was back to the Sex Songs for me. I finished Ida
Thoenkkittupp and bore down on the Rick Moody poem "How to Read." It's in a very fast tempo with some
rock and roll gestures, and an actual chorus, and the number of bars I wrote per day is as follows: Monday,
35; Tuesday, 65; Wednesday, 35, Thursday, 50; today, so far, 16, which means I am at bar 201, five minutes
into the piece, and about halfway through the poem. Big trouble in little China. It's a fun piece to write, but
there is so much really, really impressive stuff in it that it's getting hard to top myself. I took a page out of
Joss Whedon's book (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, musical episode) and stressed "come" in the line "the book
was complete", and bowed to Soozie's request for a high C on the word "consummate." I also wrote an
ossia going only as high as A (that was the first thing I did this morning) for "consummate". Beff was
impressed, by the way, that I set the word "unexpurgated," which is what follows COMplete. So work is
ongoing. And there is a chorus that happens three times, during which the vocal part is actually diatonic.
Well, it only uses three notes, but you get the idea. And since I'm me there is occasional fragmentation and
layering of the 3-note motive of the chorus. But now this is just too much information.
I discovered on Monday that the Midwest Clinic web page now has streaming video of the greatest hits
from the performances there, including the only Marine Band selection, yours truly's own "Sibling
Revelry." Like I said, the performance is great, and the streaming video shows just how easy a time the
band had of it, despite its Grade 6 designation. Click on the "Sibling Revelry" link at the top of this page,
and click on the name of the piece -- you need Real Player to see and hear it, and it can be downloaded for
free. Naturally, I e-mailed a bunch of people about the streaming video. The vast majority of responses has
been no response, though I did get one "Windows XP doesn't know what to do with a .ram file" from
someone without Real Player (one of the almost eleven).
On tax day, I will be part of a large celebration of creativity at U Mass Dartmouth. Damned if I know right
now what I'm supposed to do (and damned if I don't), but it's yet another thing going on in April. Geoff
Burleson wrote from New Mexico that Zeccatella is among the etudes he's doing in Pittsburgh on February
2, which makes it a premiere; which is a shame, since I already told Augustus Arnone, who is doing it in a
set in New York on April 20 that it would be a premiere. All right, they can both be premieres.
Meanwhile, I've watched Sibling Revelry streaming several times. Beff will vouch for that. It's fun
watching the video director trying to figure out what to shoot during my piece -- there's lots of shots of

people turning pages, and lots of shots of people sitting there not playing. Hey, since I don't write so many
tuttis for band, it's nice seeing what's going on -- for most people, nothing. There's one good shot of a
glissando on the marimba in which the player simply moves off the screen. Cool.
The last two days have been full of problem solving: the one problem being how to fix the "toggle buttons"
on Beff's good winter coat. No place in Maynard had any buttons that were the right shape (think miniature
cat poopies, except not grody) and size, and the 5&10 in West Concord was no help. Yesterday while the
furnace was getting its yearly maintenance, Beff tried K-Mart, to no avail, and then we drove all the way to
Shopper's World to look in the AC Moore store, which had something like what she needed (she got all six
in the store, $14.18 with tax), but which turned out to be a little big to go through the holes in the coat. We
considered going to the hardware store for sandpaper to sand them down a bit, but then she tried something
with the existing old buttons (she has three of four) and stronger shoelaces. It worked. Today we walked
downtown and got a bolt at Aubuchon Hardware to substitute as the fourth button. And the button saga
comes to a temporary end. So much effort.
With Beff's help, I also cast my votes for the Grammies. This thing is largely done online, though the final
ballot is a paper ballot. The available selections are slightly crappier than last year's selections, so I cast
suitably crappier votes. Other mundane news includes the fact that we've gotten a ton of large coffee mugs
this half-year -- four DOG theme mugs we had to get for our cabin in Maine, two handmade ones from
Stacy, and two in the yearly package from Raj. The winner is -- Stacy's mugs, which are now our regular
coffee mugs. We also made our year-end donations to new music groups, and made an online donation to
Doctors Without Borders. I read with glee that finally the US has pledged more in aid to the tsunami
victims than the cost of the inauguration.
Tomorrow is New Year's Day, which means Lee and Kate's party, and Lee making pierogis in a white
bathrobe (actually, in the oven, but you can stop being literal now). We are bringing beer -- the 2004
Anchor Christmas ale, for instance. And we will listen to our iPods on the way. New music on mine, by the
way: Brecker Bros. Back to Back (whole album), Nelly Tilt Ya Head Back (with Christina Aguilera),and
Pink If God is a DJ. Both of the last two tunes have hooks -- as does "How to Read," by the way. But
neither of those tunes quotes literally from "The Gardener," so I am unique in that regard, and what it is,
too.
Pictures this week are a year-end wrap-up. There are 12, representing the months of the year, and are
presented sequentially. The only one that may need explaining is June, in which Rick Moody emcees an
event in New York wearing a DAVY--THE NAME MEANS QUALITY t-shirt. Oh, those cats were so
CUTE when we first got them....

2005
JANUARY 7. Breakfast this morning was coffee and orange juice. Dinner was chicken sandwiches and
fried tofu for me, snacky chicken and fried tofu for Beff, with salad. Lunch today for me was a bit of cream
of chicken soup (we apparently had a coupon) until the cats started licking it. Yesterday's lunch was
leftover pesto pasta. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 25.3 and 52.3. LARGE
EXPENSES this last week include amazon.com orders of around 50 bucks, using up some Borders gift
cards. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "It Was a Very Good Year." Who knows
how the heck THAT got there? POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: All-New England my senior
year in high school was in Glastonbury, Connecticut (I am still in contact with the family with whom I
stayed), we rode down in Verne Colburn's boat of a car doing lots of bad Monty Python British accents, and
were in line to register as a reporter from the Hartford Courant asked someone at the registration table,
"what's the farthest away people have come for this?" Tim (whose last name I've forgotten) and I responded
in unison, "hey, that's us!" So we were interviewed saying stupid things, made it into the Hartford Courant,
and there was even a large picture of me playing in the trombone section in the paper -- that's on the
Decoupage page of this website. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK We actually ran out of frozen chicken breasts. THIS WEEK'S

COSMIC QUANDRY: why can't academia be about teaching? RECENT GASTRONOMIC

OBSESSIONS: jalapeno-stuffed olives, Tazo ice teas. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED
BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none, but Beff's inhaler has been knocked over many a
morning by Camden. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3 or 4. INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE dance fever, the exchange
rate, imperceptibility, disease. I continue to dig those abstract nouns.
The Midwest Clinic is now a dim, dim memory save for the streaming video online (see the top of the
page). I wrote feverishly, again, since the last update, producing much weird and wooly stuff, on the Rick
Moody song "How to Read", and finished it on Monday. Wednesday, if editing and adding dynamics where
I'd deliberately left them out to be decided later count. I send a PDF and MIDI of the sucker to Rick
Moody, who called it cool and weird (it is both), and told Amy D that it was "antic and strange and wooly,"
which is also probably an apt description. I also sent it to Soozie, for whom, after all, it was written. She is
in Florence (Italy, not Henderson) and said she'd read it when she was back in the States where there was a
reliable phone connection. So I thus finished the Sex Songs just in time for school, and they clock in at 21
minutes. I then wrote to the estate of Edna St. Vincent Millay for permission for the Millay poem, which
keeps me ahead of the curve. The order: Millay Sonnet, The Gardener, Streetsong, How to Read. How to
Read is full of rock and roll gestures a la Moody's Blues, so there's no way it could be followed by
anything. Or at least not by anything by me. I would hope it would be followed by thunderous applause, a
standing ovation, and gobs of money floating into my hands. But I seem to have gotten off the beaten track
again.
Soozie has also been doing a Copland Recording grant with Albany Records for Sex Songs and just about
all the other stuff I've written for her over the years (yes, I now have written enough for her to fill an
album), but since she is in Florence (with David Rutherford -- a scholar and my BEST friend at the
American Academy in Rome, if only because he stood guard while I urinated on the Coliseum, and he
didn't mind doing cheeseburgers at Big Benny with me on Sunday mornings), she was unable to get the
required materials to Albany. So I did that -- printed scores, bound some scores, send CDs as I was directed.
Including a copy of Beff's CD to give an example of Chris Oldfather's playing. Ironic that I sent it to
Albany, which is the label it is on. In any case, that was a bit time-consuming.
I also went into Brandeis twice this week, thus restarting the living hell of the life of the Chairman. Will I
make it through the next thirteen weeks? School starts Thursday, but that's only for non-Chairs. I will, by
the way, be teaching orchestration in pro seminar. I also visited Nancy Redgate in the hospital on my way
back this morning, and it was good to see her. She is as animated and opinionated as ever. I want her back
in the office as soon as possible.
Weather played a big part of the previous week, especially the increasing lack of competence of They That
Make's ability to predict within the current weather patter. To wit, the flurries of tomorrow became the
snow showers of tomorrow became the Winter Storm Watch of tomorrow, with 2-4, no make that 3-5, no
make that 4-6 or more inches of snow expected in the afternoon tomorrow. We had a storm on Wednesday
and Thursday that was in two pieces that began with three inches of mostly cloudy (we walked downtown
in it, where I had Buffalo wings, yum yum yum yum yum), and finished with another 3 or 4 inches of snow
(we walked downtown in it, where I got a prescription renewed and we were lucky to find some buns for
chicken sandwiches), some sleet, freezing rain and plain old rain. Crusty ice this morning with pock marks
on it, and I spent maybe half an hour with the snowblower just after it changed to rain clearing the
driveway. Beth thankfully dealt with the plow schmutz at the end of the driveway, which took as long to
clear (since it was so heavy) as it took me to do the whole driveway. Just before I finished, the snowblower
ran out of gas, which made for a nice wet return to the garage. So for two days, thoughts were mostly of the
weather. As they will be tomorrow, dadburn it.
They That Make predict very warm (60 on Thursday) for the end of next week. Stay tuned to see how close
they came.
Tomorrow Beff will be leaving early, as she is driving all the way to New Brunswick (the one in Canada)
for a performance. Tomorrow she gets as far as Bangor after having her clarinet looked at in Searsport (the

storm is forecast to leave 1-2" there), and on Sunday, which is predicted clear, she goes to Canada. Monday
(good day for driving) she comes all the way back in one shot. So after she leaves -- thanks to the storm,
long after -- Maynard Door and Window arrives (10 am) to see if they can do anything to fix our front door.
Previously a locksmith declared the door too old for any parts to be found; this is our second opinion. If we
can get it fixed, we can use the front door as a door, and eventually add a bathroom -- if that is what we
want. Or even a small addition onto the house.
NYNME told me newly of performances of TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME (an old sucker for Bcl and
marimba) in Atlanta in April and New York in May. I can't make either one of them. Earlier I was told they
were in February in LA and March in New York. Alas. Well, the Atlanta performance will be at Emory
University, and you can make all the jokes you want. I'm already tired of the Emory board joke, even
though I'm convinced I made it up on the spot.
Amy D is back from Sri Lanka, where she was in the mountains when the tsunami hit. We are all very glad
she and Shehan are safe and that they made it back. She inquired about a new piece for piano, two toy
pianos and electronics. I said the only thing I could: "What?"
This week we have a little icicle (in the shape of an upside-down peace sign) forming off pine needles in a
gutter, and cats. For those of you who asked how big they are now.
JANUARY 14. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausages with Kraft 2%
milk sharp cheddar cheese slices, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a smoked turkey sandwich, chips and
a red delicious apple, with a can of pink lemonade. Dinner for me had been a clam roll, fries, s little fried
calamari, and a bit of boneless Buffalo tenders, and beerage. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST
WEEK 18.1 and 59.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include deposits into our Roth IRAs (number too
large to print here). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The chorus of "How to
Read," the last of the Sex Songs. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I wrote a Pierrot piece for
Alea II at Stanford, when Ross ran the group, and I came to town for the performance just as he had
resigned from the position to go to Davis, and was trying to convince his colleagues to hire me. I was still
untameable, though. Ross invited me to present my own music in his composition class, and invited his
colleagues also to attend (they declined). I remember the look of horrifiedness on Ross's face when I was
about to play my violin concerto, and simply tossed three large scores at the students sitting at desks.
Incredibly, they offered me the job anyway. On my thirtieth birthday. RECOMMENDATION/
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The outgoing
platform at the Lincoln train station is on the Donelan's side of the road. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDRY: who was the first person to think the idea of a cuckoo clock was cool? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: pretty salty olives, deli pickles, sugar free popsicles, campari tomatoes.
NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK my ego.
Not really, but it was fun to type. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 0. INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE line dancing,
depth, rolling deadlines, desire. Abstract nouns, all.
They that make were both right and wrong about yesterday's high temperature. You may recall that 60 was
predicted as yesterday's high as long as a week ago, and I had made some plans in my head (the best place
for them) to enjoy the balmy afternoon temperatures, which as of Wednesday, were still predicted to be 60.
But at 1 the temperature was still 37, and it was mondo foggy. So lemme splain.
Early yesterday morning (6:41) I picked up Big Mike at his place to bring him in to teach his first day of
the term (as it was the first day of the term). They that make had predicted it would be about 40 in the
morning. But instead what was was 31 with a glaze of freezing rain on our sidewalk and driveway, and
light freezing rain was still happening -- none of which was in the forecast. So I drove slowly to BM's
place, and to work. We made it in less than record time, due to careful, likely elderly, drivers also going in,
not to mention a big ol' cement mixer. But this is too much detail. I took Mike back after his class was over
at noon, and I kept noting that a slice of pizza might be real nice. By now, by the way, it was mildly foggy
and 37 degrees (not 60, in case you've been paying attention). And no pizza place reared its pretty, boring,
or ugly head. BM then mentioned that there was a very greasy pizza place next to his complex, so we

stopped there. I told him "your slice is on me," and ordered two plain slices. Then for whatever reason, BM
ordered two pepperoni slices. He just didn't hear, I guess. So I paid for all four slices, and we each had one
of each. When I got back home, I did some salad, but not the full lunch I had been expecting. And at 37 and
foggy, there was no outing to enjoy the weather.
Meanwhile, Geoffy was on his way, and we had appointed to (this is complicated, so pay attention) meet
Lee at the Lincoln train station at 6:10, drive to the deCordova museum (in Lincoln) to take a gander at the
installation Kate's been putting up all week, go to our house for some munchies, and then go to a restaurant
with them and Geoff. So Beff 'n' I waited at the Lincoln train station for a half hour while a train zoomed
right by at 6:06. We called Geoffy's cell phone and found out that he had arrived. Then he called my cell
phone and said someone called Kate had called our answering machine and said that Lee had been waiting
at the train station a half hour, she was waiting outside in the deCordova parking lot, and would not be able
to make another call after the current one. We zipped across to the other side of the street, where a
SEPARATE platform served outgoing passengers, picked Lee, up and drove deCordovawards. About a half
hour late.
And then the fog got thicker and thicker as we approached the deCordova, until the visibility was no more
than about five feet. We got on the road for the deCordova, and I was tailgated by an SUV that kept flicking
its high beams to get me to speed up (I uttered some choice words heard only by those in our car). Luckily,
the deCordova entrance was well marked, though the driveway was long; the museum itself was dark, the
lone figure in the parking lot was Kate, and we picked her up. We couldn't see the installation (see "the
museum itself was dark"). But we slowly drove back (see "visibility was no more than five feet"), once
barely missing two deer that bound across the road in front of us (I would have been rear-ended if I had
stopped short), and freaking out both of our back seat passengers.
Well. Eventually the fog got less thick (it was still 37 degrees out) when we got back to Great Road, we
made it to the Quarterdeck Seafood restaurant, where Geoffy had established a beachhead (he said five, and
we had eight chairs ... ?), and Kate ordered a Glenlivet (pronounced Glen-liv-ay by the waitress, who wore
a track suit). A full glass of Scotch the size of a Buick was served, so Kate was happy. See above for what I
got, and Beff got some sort of fish with capers. By now we had all calmed down, the freshness and
deliciousness of the fish was alluded to precisely 87 times, and we finished in plenty of time to get Lee and
Kate to the 8:57 out of South Acton. When we got outside, some of the fog had lifted, and the temperature
had zoomed up to 57 -- all in an hour and a half. At the South Acton station, plenty of fog was still rolling
around (lifting and rolling, etc.) so we watched it. When the train arrived with the lights piercing the
peasoupy fog still remaining down the tracks, it looked like a Bergman film. We said exactly that. And then
they left. Back at home, I took a beer and made Geoffy watch Sibling Revelry streaming online -- since one
of the etudes from which it sprung was written for him. At 10:30 I mentioned to Geoff (who was having
Calvados) that I had had enough beer, was ready for bed, and if Jay Eckardt were here he would coax me
into two more beers. Then I said, "another drink?", Geoff said yes, and I joined him. Then we all went to
bed.
Things at Brandeis were very intense this week, including an emergency meeting (you know why) to make
a counterproposal (to you know what). In the morning I dashed off (there were periods, commas and
question marks, too) a 3-page talking points memo to get things rolling. After an hour of treading water,
things happened. And, alas, the perception was that my leadership was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Crap. As one of the almost eleven suggested last term, I need more creative incompetence, less leadership.
Oh well, maybe it's time to let some things fall apart.
Meanwhile, here I mention that Geoffy cleans up after himself, and drinks the mineral water that we have
for only him. There is a little bit of water in the basement -- as the temp shot up to 59.9 today, it poured,
and the temp dropped again. We went into Cambridge today for separate reasons, and I sent Beff on an
errand to make our 2004 Roth IRA contributions in downtown Boston. But the storm -- warm as it was -whipped her umbrella inside out several times, as she was near the ocean, and she got soaked through and
through. She made a point of calling me where I was to let me know she got soaked through and through.
But she did also accomplish the other goal, which was to get a copy of American Record Guide at Virgin
Records, where we are BOTH reviewed this month. I get to be a leading light, and the reviewer imagined

people squirming during the second movement of Ten of a Kind. Beff has a knack for atonal chord
voicings. See Reviews 3 for the complete review. It was 57 degrees today at 9:30 am, and 37 at 1; we
encountered mixed rain and sleet as we entered Maynard when we returned. But a great majority of the
snow on the ground disappeared, and I like it when that happens.
Over the weekend I responded to another challenge by the estimable Rick Moody. Originally it was to be a
minimalism/pulse etude ripping apart the regularity of classic minimalist gestures. Instead, I actually had
fun writing it, used as a source a chord from HOW TO READ, and subtitled it "impatient minimalist etude
on chord-building". It is #66 and I still have no title for it, though "Out of Minimalism (but we expect more
tomorrow)" was a working title. Amy and Rick and Geoffy are on the case naming the piece (Music for
One Player, Music for Two Hands, Mini Mouse), but nothing has suited me yet. There is an E pedal
throughout, so both Geoff and I thought of "E-Machine," but that would just be silly. Willy. Dilly. Pilly.
There were two sloppy snow/ice storms this last week, not including today's torrential rain. This weather
pattern is a bummer. Plenty of back-breaking exercise, however. Meanwhile, Beff beat one of the storms
when she drove to Moncton, New Brunswick (that's in Canada) on Saturday -- a group there played a few
movements of various video/no video piece. The performance sounded good. Meanwhile, Beff also found
out that "Winnifred Goes Outside" will be done next month in the Bangor Auditorium. Whoa. As to
Wednesday's dreary storm, I actually took the train in. So there.
I think Soozie and Don Berman did some songs of mine at the American Academy in Rome today. I could
be wrong.
This was not a week of picture taking, so I submit two larger than usual shots of cats reclining.

JANUARY 21. Breakfast this morning was a large hamburger bun (from BJs) toasted with lowfat peanut
butter, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was strifry chicken from a Trader Joe's Kung Pao stir fry packet
with the Kung Pao sauce discarded and lemongrass sauce substituted. Lunch was the two slice special at
Cappy's. Today's lunch was Sun Bird hot and sour sour (for both of us) with Mongolian fire oil and white
pepper added. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK -1.8 and 38.9. LARGE EXPENSES this
last week include an amazon.com gift certificate from the department to Jim Olesen in appreciation of his
service as Chair -- believe me, I know "service" is not exactly the right word here. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The very end of the bandstration of "Strident." POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: somewhere midst our old, old memorabilia is a small notebook of cute
things I said before any of my memory kicks in (about 4). It is said that, when caught picking crabapples
when told not to, I explained "I was only picking the leaves." This same notebook reminds me that my
brother used to call me "Dready" (spelled "Dreddy" in the book), obviously not referring to any unfortunate
hairstyle choices -- yet. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 2.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK iPods are not so inexpensive. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: other
than the color, what's the difference between lemonade and pink lemonade? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: campari tomatoes, honey barbecue chips made with canola oil, sugar free popsicles.
NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK a bunch of
rolled-up pieces of newspaper. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE suaveness, continuing
education, shampoo envy, paint allergies.
Them what make are waffling about a big snowstorm forecast to pass to our south about 24 hours from
when this is posted -- do we get snow showers, 3 to 5 inches, 1 to 2 feet? The Weather Bug down in my
system tray was chirping at me as I started typing (about 3:30 in the afternoon) to get me to find out that
"heavy snow advisory" was in the works -- following quickly on the heels of a "heavy snow advisory."
Gosh, these weather advisories are like the Republican talking points (footnote to the Daily Show and Jon
Stewart): they must be true, because they're said a lot.
The problem with a heavy snow advisory is that we are slated to go to the BMOP concert tomorrow night
to hear the premiere of Eric Chasalow's Something about Sunspots piece, as well as Martino's Clarinet

Concerto and pieces by Elliott Schwartz and Tom McKinley. By the way, this concert is called The Boston
Connection (they have such a concert yearly), and the networking capabilities of Elliott Schwartz -- who
lives 175 miles from Boston -- are once again in evidence. Either that, or metro Boston is growing at an
exponential rate (at the same time Massachusetts was the only state to lose population since the turn of the
century). Now I've gotten really far off the beaten track. Anyway, if the snow starts too early, then we won't
go to the concert. Ironically, it'll be a Tom McKinley thing back from undergrad days: "I'll catch the tape,
man." I'm leaving out the part where part of his chicken salad sandwich gets spit out as he says it.
The event of the week was likely our MLK Day brunch at our house, which attracted two childful couples
and one childless one. Del and Laura (who was referred to be others as LK) came with Alexandra -- and
some flowers -- and Sam and Laurie came with Georgia -- the daughter, not the state. Cammy would have
none of it, and, once Alexandra got into kiddie kitty petting mode, neither would Sunny. So in the morning
with those two couples, there were bagels and coffee to be had by all (including by me), as well as cherries
and strawberries and various other fruits we made our contribution to the affair. Ken and Hillary made it
around noon, so the activities were spread far and wide within the household. LK, who is a professional
photographer, used our window seats downstairs to take nice pictures of Georgia, and meanwhile
Alexandra was kept mostly quiet by a showing of one of our many Looney Tunes DVDs. She had to sit
about a foot from the TV so it would be loud enough for her and so the adults could have conversations.
Alexandra also got to play a vibraslap (the thrill leaves pretty fast) and have her own (light blue) blanket.
After the kidful couples had to split, we took Ken and Hillary out to the Village Pizzeria for Buffalo wings,
where I was the only one to have Buffalo wings. Hillary had a giant chicken Caesar salad that could have
fed all of Liberia, and I forget what Beff and Ken had.
I had spent much of the weekend doing a draft of the Music Department's response to the Dean's Looney
Bin proposal, with much input -- much of it conflicting -- from two of my colleagues. I had to filter out
some disrespectful tone suggested by one and some superfluous statistics suggested by another. And then it
was sent Wednesday morning. Thursday was a faculty meeting, and the amazing collegiality from the
previous meeting was less in immediate evidence. I hate being the Chair.
On David Sanford's recommendation, Beff got a Danish film called FIVE OBSTRUCTIONS, which I
thought was both pretty cool and pretty tiresome. The premise was better than the movie: a director was
challenged to remake a movie of his from the 1960s in five different ways with limitations (obstructions)
posed by another director (who Beff posited would be the kind of filmmaker whose films you'd talk about
but not ever watch). The first remake, in Cuba with the limitation of no edit longer than 12 frames, was
pretty cool. The remake as a cartoon was cool, too, and it was interesting to hear the phrase "MTV" in
Danish -- it sounds the same. So when we weren't watching Obstructions, we were watching vast swaths of
the fifth season of Buffy (the Glory year).
Two nights ago I got ten hours of sleep. Heaven.
On Tuesday I taught my first orchestration class, thus being in front of a classroom for the first time in
seven months. It was, actually, thrilling. Reminding me, of course, that that's what I really like doing, not
toning down the expletives I would otherwise hurl at the hand that feeds my department. It was pretty high
octane most of the time (duh), and I actually spent some down time afterwards doing something else I
haven't done in seven months -- thinking of more ways to present the material in a way that was both fun
and valuable. For the first time in their lives, eight graduate students went home with unmarked CDs with
excerpts of Looney Tunes cartoon music with the assignment to transcribe about 10 to 15 seconds of
anything in the excerpts. I am both crafty and mean. What they don't know yet (because it's something I
decided in that down time) is that they will get my now world-famous analysis of Nuages (well, famous in
my world, anyway) with a new layer of orchestration layered into the argument. I already said a few things
about Nuages in the class, actually. I will, by the way, try to be catching myself from doing what other
teachers of orchestration have done (according to anecdotal evidence from others): no long stories about
Lenny, and no standing there with a fake expression of wonderment on my face as an excerpt plays on the
stereo and I point vaguely sideways and skywards while blurting out "clarinets!" or "masking in the cello
pizz." as the music passes by. Several students said it was a good class. They were probably sucking up.

I also scheduled my NEC students to exactly the same time and day of the week as last term. Cool. Calls to
Mac Peyton and Mike Gandolfi were made to confirm the room. Mac was out. Mike sounded majorly
stressed -- and I realized it was because a) he is Chair and b) he has a BSO performance coming up. Oh
lawdy.
Tonight -- mere hours after this post -- we are going to the deCordova for the official reception for Kate's
opening. The art has been on view for a week now (see last week's post about fog, seafood, Geoff, etc.), but
the reception is tonight. Our small part in the whole affair (formerly the "audience") grew by leaps and
bounds this morning as Kate called to request a ride from the Lincoln train station at 5:56 to the affair -which we can do now because we discovered where the outbound part of the train station actually is. So
instead of verging on 60 and very foggy, it should be about 5 degrees and clear. The difference? 55. And
our dinner plans changed from chicken sandwiches to Domino's delivery. I hope for pepperoni.
Over the weekend I was notified of about 8 more upcoming performances of which I had been unaware,
and made sure to post them on "Performances" here. Strangely, I had gotten the standard twice yearly "here
are my performances this term" e-mail from Eric Chasalow, which listed something in New York by the
"Sinfonietta Moderna," of which I had never heard. On Saturday -- two weeks later than Eric's e-mail -- I
got an e-mail requesting bio and program notes for my Feb 13 performance of Sesso e Violenza (face it, a
pretty huge piece) by the Sinfonietta Moderna at Merkin Hall (at this point I always remember being told
that a "merkin" was a pubic wig in Yiddish, and I've never wanted to know what it was actually used for).
And then Rick Moody asked if I knew a NYC area pianist with one of the more "athletic" etudes under his
or her fingers to play free for a Yaddo benefit, and I gave him Adam Marks, who is playing Fists of Fury
this term -- the day before Sinfonietta Moderna, as it turns out. And then other stuff. So there, smarty pants.
I don't even know yet if I can make it to Sinfonietta Moderna -- all bets are on no. Crap.
On Tuesday I got the usual yearly wacky e-mail from Danny K -- actually, I usually get the wacky e-mail as
an invitation to a Labor Day bash in some generic location. I met him when he came to my "young
composers write for Alea III" slopfest (I speak both of the performance and of the piece) in 1989, and he
engraved my Louise Bogan songs for Peters (paid for by me) and some of Beff's songs as well. In 1995 I
named a commercial font after him (Kastner Casual). On Tuesday I found out in this wacky e-mail that he
was to be one of the contestants on the third season of The Apprentice. Last night I watched about the first
half hour of the Apprentice, but it's not the kind of show that sucks me in -- Beff watched to the bitter end
and gave me updates afterwards. Danny was the one with the guitar, and who thought of "just say cheese!"
as a marketing slogan for a Burger King triple cheeseburger, to a sea of stonefaced Burger King executives.
See, Beff explained it very well. Last time I actually saw Danny -- 1992 -- he was 27 years old and clean
shaven.
And meanwhile, arctic cold has gripped the area. I know that because that's exactly how all the TV
weathercasters say it.
This week's pictures include Sunny in his new bed, and five MLK day shots: Del's coffee (Stacy's mug),
Alexandra and Georgia, Laurie Alexandra Georgia and LK, Sam, and Del.

JANUARY 30. Breakfast this morning was grapefruit, Morningside Farms meatless sausages with Kraft
2% cheddar-ish cheese, and coffee. Dinner last night was vegetable tempura and a clam roll (at the
Quarterdeck Seafood restaurant). Lunch was a large salad with fat-free balsamic vinaigrette.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST NINE DAYS -7.6 and 36.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last
week include a gift for Carolyn Davies in appreciation for all the extra work she's had to do since midOctober with Nancy Redgate's illness. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The
MIDI of "How to Read," since I just played it for Geoffy. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
my senior year of high school I got put into a little six-man group that learned how to sing a barbershop
arrangement of "Yes Sir, That's My Baby." My part was the top part (there were two of us on it, two on the
bass part, one each on the middle parts), which I memorized. But I never sang that part in performance. At
the spring concert, the guy doing the baritone part was summarily thrown out of the chorus for missing
rehearsals, so I had to sight-read that part in the concert (I was the only one looking at a score, as

photographic evidence suggests). Then we were asked to sing it on some gonzo senior event in the
gymnasium, and the guys doing the bass part didn't show up. So I made up a bass part for that performance.
And sang it. Good thing the drinking age was 18 at the time, so the seniors didn't notice the creativity of my
ad hoc harmonies. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK flu symptoms don't necessarily come with a big fever; and Theraflu makes
your tongue bumpy. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why does global warming mean we get more
snow here? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Remedy (hot water with honey and lemon),
campari tomatoes, jalapeno-stuffed olives, Buffalo wing sauce. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST
WEEK: feels like about a hundred. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE contingent interdependencies, vertical sonorities, contrapuntal aggregate
formations, interval vectores (I went to Princeton).
My news that trumps the much snow of the week is my flu/virus/illness that kept me in bed pretty much
from Thursday morning to this morning (Sunday). There wasn't much to miss at Brandeis (just a Chairs
meeting), so it didn't make me a bad person to stay at home, particularly as it was hard to turn my head at
any speed without wooziness. I had a fever of 99.9 on Friday afternoon, but it was back down to 97.1 on
Saturday morning (the Circadian rhythm, I guess). Still, I spent much time on all three days in the comfort
of my bed, though frankly I don't remember much about being asleep. On Friday Seungah HAD to come
over so I could look at and approve her piano concerto as her dissertation piece, and I hadn't showered in
two days and my hair was rat's nesty, so I wore my pink winter hat -- which is either a creampuffy gangsta
rapper hat, or as Martin calls it, the "Mommy, will you buy me this?" hat. This will be but a small part of
the stories that Seungah tells her grandchildren about getting the Brandeis doctorate. I hope she doesn't
include the smell.
Besides all of that, there was the story that still dominates Boston TV and newspapers (or more generically,
the media), that was the snow showers of which I spoke here in the last update. A week of Arctic chill (we
were "in its grip") followed by the fifth largest snowstorm in 110 years of weather records in Boston,
followed by more Arctic chill, followed by another day of snow showers that accumulated seven inches
here, followed by yet more Arctic chill. Thanks to all the snow, urban areas are a real mess, and even
Maynard -- not too urban by any means -- is having big problems. Pathways from the street onto the
sidewalk are bounded by five-foot high piles of snow. In past years after big snowstorms, within a week all
the big piles got transported into the Assabet -- or wherever they take them. Not so this snow.
So on Monday, everybody cancelled everything. I even got a free pass not to teach my NEC students for the
first time this term. Plus, it doesn't have to be made up -- but I will offer to anyway. Tuesday Beff and I
went into Brandeis on treacherous icy roads as far as Weston, and came back on roads that were still
treacherous and icy. Wednesday everybody decided to follow through with classes and stuff despite the
snowstorm. Big Mike said that getting to school took an hour and a half instead of a half hour for him, and
I took the 7:58 am train into work, which turned into the 8:30 train, which ended up being free. All my
students were late because of the storm. And my train going back was on time. Midst my noon student,
Brandeis decided to close at 2. The snow kept coming down for another five hours, and everybody was
talking about it again in the Boston media. Boston school superintendent got into hot water for calling
classes into session on Wednesday, so he closed them again Thursday and Friday.
And when my NEC students e-mailed about our meeting, I got to bore them, and terribly so, with my lame
stories about the Blizzard of '78 -- which happened when I was a sophomore at NEC. How boring? I
mentioned that Star Pizza had the only hot food, but no napkins, so we wiped our hands on the snow. Now
that's boring.
Meanwhile. I didn't go to the BMOP concert on Saturday, but it happened anyway. By the time it was over,
we had had about eight inches here, so I was glad (in terms of still being alive) that we didn't go. They get
to keep my fifty-six bucks anyway. When we got up on Saturday morning, much snow was there for the
shoveling, and we did most of it by hand, in three forty-five minute shifts. The snowblower was used only
in the last shift, as the snow was actually too high for it. It can handle about 15-18 inches on the ground,
and I measured 21. Surprisingly, it was not my back that stiffened up later, but the front part of my legs.

Huh. Nonetheless, I get to note that I was in Boston for four of its five biggest storms ever, which was true
before this storm -- this one nudged out another one I was here for in the top five. Meanwhile, Boston's
biggest snow ever, the President's Day Storm from February 2003, was not that big out here. Another storm
not even on Boston's radar was even bigger out here than the one we just had. And that one was our first
year here, when Beff decreed, "oh, let's not get a snowblower. Let's just see what the first year is like." She
was safely ensconced in Maine for that storm, by the way, while I fumed at home about my lack of
snowblower and no lack of shoveling to do.
Last word about the weather: for Boston, this was the snowiest January ever, and the snowiest month ever.
Everywhere you go that people like to deal in superlatives, you will hear this mentioned. Thirteen straight
days with the temps not exceeding freezing. Oh yeah, and after our shoveling, we were treated to a little
butt-kicking by the Patriots on the Steelers. For that, we needed a TV.
This afternoon is Brandeis's yearly Irving Fine concert, which in this case is a piano recital by Jerry
Kuderna. I have met Jerry in California, and he seemed like a nice guy. He has been talking for exactly
twelve years about playing etudes of mine, and for all I know, it finally happens this afternoon. He is doing
Nocturnal. As well as plenty of other stuff by Americans (which is what I am).
Tuesday, besides being a harrowing drive, was the Beff show in my orchestration class. She demonstrated
the clarinets, answered many questions, and basically took away an hour and a half I would otherwise have
had to fill with my talking. Thanks, Beff. Then the students showed their Looney Tunes transcriptions,
which were surprisingly accurate. And I assigned clarinet choir arrangements.
Monday, being a snow day, became tax day for us. Yes, dear almost eleven, we collected and categorized all
of 2004's receipts, and wrote them down but did not add them up. I can report without fear of contradiction
that we spent $111 for seafood when Soozie and Chris were in town (deductible!), gave about $3000 to
charity, and the Triplets of Belleville soundtrack, which was 28 bucks, is deductible because I used it in
class as an example of a piece that begins with augmented triads. Do I rock, or what?
I got several e-mails from people this week mentioning the Atlantic Center thing coming up, and I guess it's
because they (le Centre Atlantique) sent out an e-mail to some mailing list about it. It seems they don't send
out big posters any more, like they used to, so this is the new way to get the word out. I spoke to Harold
Meltzer, who said there were only two fellows that went there for Lew Spratlan's session -- at a time I was
originally offered, by the way.
Dyna Mike (Marine Mike) e-mailed, too, who finally had some time with the inauguration being over. He
mentioned that he was taking "Sibling Revelry" off the April 10 MB concert (it disappeared from my
Performances page, too) because he needed the "real estate." Oh, to go from Pulitzer finalist to "real estate"
all within the same organization within a few years. Oh, the humanity! Well, at least that gives me an extra
three days in April that I don't have to travel. And they were real nice to do it in the first place, though
they're probably not aware of the elaborate excuse I gave to the publisher not to charge the band for the
performance materials. But we will, of course, do our yearly get together on Lake Carmi in which we have
too much beer before 11 am. This has now achieved the status of ritual.
Geoff Burleson stayed here overnight for a Musica Viva rehearsal, and just went out this morning. I gave
him the score of etude #66, the title part of which goes
LESS IS
to Rick Moody
...and he quipped "...as more is... to...William Faulkner"? Now that comparison questions are being
removed from the SATs, maybe we can celebrate that here with one more question. Almost eleven, you
may make up your own answers.
Less Is:Rick Moody

a) More is:William Faulkner

b) One is:The Loneliest number
c) Two is:Company, Three's a Crowd
d) Pennies:From Heaven
e) Some Is:Some Ain't
Now for the first time in an update, I actually said somebody "quipped" something. Is there something
wrong with me?
Beff was in Vermont attending to family biz on Friday, by the way. Just wanted to report that. She said there
was MUCH LESS snow in Vermont. Huh. When she got back last night, I was well enough to want to go
out for dinner, but certainly didn't feel like cooking. Tonight, by the way, it's pasta in a nice tomato sauce,
etc.
Amy D reported that she played a trio of etudes TWICE, including once at a noon concert at Palomar
College. Schnozzage was one of them, and it's become obvious that whenever Schozzage is played by
anyone, it becomes the story of the whole concert, especially in the media. From "Rakowski nose music" a
few years ago to "Dissanayake uses her nose and hands to play" this time. There is a story online (I'm sure
Amy wouldn't want me giving the almost eleven the URL, but if you Google "Schnozzage" it is currently
the first hit), and of course the picture is of "Give me a pianist and make it lean" (the epigraph on the
score).
Which gives me TWO unique things on the internet. If you google "Schozzage" or "Martian Counterpoint"
(in quotes), all the hits refer to me. "Sibling Revelry" on the other hand, gives hundreds of hits that are not
me -- so Beff and I were less clever than we thought when we came up with that title. And I can't even
prounounce it without scrupulous preparation! Uh, Sib... wing... wevelwy.... Just as a silly footnote, when I
taught at Stanford and Sean invited himself over for beer, he referred to it as "dwunken wevelwy."
Yesterday afternoon I e-mailed Amy D about www.infinitecat.com, a sort of conceptual piece wherein a
computer picture of a cat looking at a picture of a cat on a computer is then layered with a cat looking at
that picture, etc., ad infinitum, has reached almost 700. The sequence is pretty funny. So Amy sent me a
picture of her cat Ranjith, and said he wanted to be on my web page. I sent back a picture of Sunny looking
at the pic on the iMac, she got Reena looking at that pic, and I spent a LONG time getting Cammy to sit
still and look at that picture (my portfolio has Cammy in at least five locations NOT looking at the picture).
You will see the whole sequence below -- oh, the wonders of the internet. Meanwhile, there are also four
pictures of the aftermath of the Blizzard of '05 out here -- before the extra seven inches got piled on on
Wednesday.

FEBRUARY 4. Breakfast this morning was half a grapefruit, toast with lowfat peanut butter, orange juice,
and coffee. Dinner last night was Thai Ginger grilled chicken with mushrooms and salad (marinade by
Emeril). Lunch was tomato, pepperoncini, cheese, and olive sandwiches. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THE LAST FIVE DAYS 2.5 and 39.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are a new burr coffee grinder
purchased on amazon, free shipping, $139; Boston Symphony tickets, $158. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Laura Nyro's "Marry Me Bill." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: as graduate students, we (we roommates me, Beff and Martler) were invited to a party
in an undergrad's dorm room. This was at Princeton, the only place we were all graduate students. It was
Halloween, so we presumed we should come in some sort of costume. So I put on my old security guard
uniform, down to the MSI badge (#2653) and winter coat. When we got there, undergraduates were
wearing heavy lipstick and ballgowns (well, the women were, anyway), and we felt, um, at least a little
underdressed. Especially me. We didn't stay long. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the defunct TV series WONDERFALLS, just
released on DVD. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: how many trees are killed by pointless forms?
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: real lemonade, real limeade, cherry tomatoes, Cains
hamberger dill crinkle-cut slices. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN
THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3. INANIMATE

OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the hypothetical
other, riotous behavior, a Twix bar, seven barrels of half-sour pickles. I'm now mixing abstract and concrete
nouns. Pour Davy.
This is a short week due to my getting back on schedule after having the flu (or a virus) last week. Thus I
would hope there would be a lot fewer words below here before you get to the pictures than for last week's
nine-day report. They That Make screwed up pretty bad with the overnight weather leading right up to this
morning. As recently as 30 hours ago, Maynard was forecast to get no precipitation from an ocean storm
ominously backing in to New England -- only coastal sections were to get rain and snow showers. For a
while before that, a light wintry mix was forecast. As of yesterday afternoon, while it was raining in
Maynard, the forecast switched to snow showers without accumulation to mixed precipitation with no
accumulation, to an inch overnight. We woke up to three inches of heavy, heavy, heavy wet snow that was
even more difficult to shovel than the aftermath of the blizzard. So you see, gentle almost eleven, I may still
pay close attention to the They That Make channel, but I have learned to disregard much of what is said.
And of course I won't patronize their advertisers. Or be patronizing to them.
We did, however, snap out of the Arctic cold in whose grip we were. It has been above freezing every day
since the last update, and temps up in the 40s are forecast for the weekend and Monday. This pleases me -despite that I may have to shovel off the flat roof just off the bedroom window.
If anything momentous happened during the week, it was the discovery of the defunct series "Wonderfalls",
just released on DVD, which Beff somehow had the good sense to buy. We have watched the first seven
episodes of the existing thirteen, only four of which actually ever aired in America. It is a much better show
than the critics' current darling "Arrested Development", especially if you're into talking animal figurines.
Good old Fox aired "Married With Children" for nine seasons, and Wonderfalls only four weeks, not even
consecutive weeks. Well, then. I'm hoping greatly that, unlike Freaks and Geeks, it doesn't jump the shark.
Other momentous things that occurred included the resumption of my teaching duties at NEC, and the
opportunity to walk around the heavily commercial neighborhood and stock up on CryBaby Tears -- more
about those later. I also picked up tickets to the February 18 BSO concert on which Yehudi Wyner's new
piano concerto is to be premiered (Chiave in Mano -- Keys in the Hand, must be a punchline to some
pornographic Italian joke, knowing Yehudi), and had one of the quick lunches at Pizzeria Uno. For those
looking for cuisine in that area, the chicken thumbs at Pizzeria Uno are to be steadfastly avoided. Oh, why
couldn't that neighborhood have a Bertucci's instead? As to the teaching, it was like the old times we never
had, but will soon. I checked out NEC's vacation schedule, and with the vacation days and the Monday
snow day we had because of the blizzard, I'm making much more per hour of actual teaching than I did in
the fall. And for that I am a) truly sorry b) very lucky c) fair of face.
Dyna Mike has been my source for CryBaby Tears for the last four years (there's a candy store in the mall
near him with those big clear plastic things and scoops and plastic bags that you pay for by the pound, and
one of the plastic things has CryBaby Tears), but I have sort of lost my cravings for them. So this time I
sent two boxes of CryBaby Tears that I bought in Boston back to him, one each to each of his kids (one is
named Jack, and the one that isn't named Jack is named Claire. The one not named Claire is named Jack).
So in a way I retaliated for the reclassication of SIBLING REVELRY as "real estate" by increasing his
dental bills. While at the same time being cute. That part I just can't help.
I was interviewed by the Brandeis Justice (student newspaper) after one of my colleagues was interviewed
and said a few things that maybe he/she shouldn't have. I tiptoed mightily around the questions slung at me,
yet I may still be quoted in the paper saying something I shouldn't have. It was my own fault for having a
glass of wine with dinner, I guess. Maybe this is the creative incompetence I have been looking for all this
time.
Oh yes; according the The President's Own page, Mindy Wagner's piece 57/7 Dash in the new band
arrangement filled part of the void left by the real estate departure -- it had been advertised in the glossy
spring brochure along with my piece, but had never been put onto the web page. This pleases me to no end.
Some while ago the two of us had planned to go to the gig together and do silly, giddy things as we did at

the MacDowell Colony in '01 (i.e., have fun-fun), but now that's put off to another day. The nice
arrangement of La Valse is also on that show, so now it's a pretty fabulous concert. And I helped.
I am trying to have firm resolve to go to the February 13 concert in NYC featuring SESSO E VIOLENZA
-- actually rather a major piece, now that I think of it -- but it's at 8 and I have an appointment at Brandeis -an EXTREMELY important one -- at 10:30 the next morning. So, weather will be a factor in whether or not
I actually go. Alas, the night before there is a Brandeis composers concert, and I already know Eric
Chasalow isn't going (if "I'm going to NYC on a train on Friday and returning the following Monday" is
interpreted literally) to that concert. If I choose, for weather's sake, to go to NYC on Saturday, that leaves
only Marty as the faculty rep at this concert, and that would look bad. Almost eleven, I'm pleased to share
my not-so-complicated thought processes about this with you.
Also on April 15 there will be some sort of Arts Buffet or Barbecue at Brandeis, and luckily I'm booked to
be in that gonzo creativity thing at UMass Dartmouth that day, so I'm excused from service. But Shane
from the Office of the Arts was talking about thematic things to call the buffet items. Context: we recently
received permission to use the Bernstein name, as in, Bernstein taught at Brandeis a few years in the 1950s,
and they were thinking of Bernstein-themed foods. Bernstein burgers? I suggested West Side Story-themed
foods: sushi for the Sharks, and airline food for the Jets. From here it only got sillier. How could it not?
Groundhog Day came and went, and it was sunny. Bummer -- six more weeks of winter. Hence this three
slopful inches from overnight. Beff still has to go out and do the plow schmutz in the driveway before we
go out to Trader Joes, etc. and Staples for staples. We need more coffee beans, for instance, and we have to
spend our Staples rewards certificate. But not until the driveway schmutz is dealt with.
Meanwhile, the cheap Black & Decker coffee grinder clogged yet again this morning -- it does so more
frequently than weekly now -- so we ordered an actual high quality burr grinder on amazon this morning.
Because I am tired of yelling at inanimate objects, especially those that carry the Black and Decker logo.
Later, Beff accepted a call from the Bangor Daily News, who is covering her premiere in Bangor this
weekend -- WINNIFRED GOES OUTSIDE is to be done by the all-woman jazz band The Edith Jones
Project. I will be left at home with all the Jets and Sharks I can eat.
Danny K was fired on last night's The Apprentice. Now my Thursday nights are free again.
Don't look up "Schozzage" on Google. "Schnozzage" is the correct word, and I love how it asks if I really
meant "schnozzle."
Mmm. sure could use some good limeade right about now.
Amy D sent another picture of Ranjith, this time looking at this page in last week's manifestation. So I took
a picture of Sunny looking at that. Amy's family in New Hampshire is apparently going to start playing the
game, too. Martler thought the cats thing was funny, too, so I posed his Oxford brochure with Sunny in his
little cat bed. I'm sure you will agree that it is knee-slapping hilarious.
As to the pictures: Sunny and Martler; Sunny viewing Ranjith viewing my web page; one of the
unsuccessful poses with Cammy from last week; generic cute kitty picture; the icicles dropped from the
roof onto the other roof outside the computer room; the view out the front door this morning; Beff trying to
get Cammy in from his hiding place (she is shaking a bag of kitty treats); and a shot of the Assabet River
from December 23 that was still on the card in the camera.

FEBRUARY 11. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was 95% lean hamburgers
with nonfat cheese, pickles and tomatoes, and Polish fries. Lunch had been hot and sour soup and, later, at
the Stein, a basket of signature fries (which came out looking more like Woodstock's signature -- the bird in
Peanuts). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 21.0 and 53.1. LARGE EXPENSES this last
week include a new front-load washer, $720 plus tax, and a new CD deck, $129 plus tax. MUSIC GOING

THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Various licks from "A Gliss is Just a Gliss" and comparable licks
that might eventually fit into a left-hand etude. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: the one time
during our relationship -- pre-marriage -- that Beff cooked for me in a substantial way was Cornish game
hens, for Thanksgiving, at Beff's apartment in Portland, Oregon -- this was the year she taught at Reed
College and I taught at Stanford. Alas, I developed a stomach virus necessitating much time riding the
porcelain pony soon after, and the temptation was to relate the cooking to the virus. There was no
relationship between the two. But I sure do remember all those pony rides, which commenced every half
hour on the hour and half hour. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
WEEK 0. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK details about the distinctions between front-load and top-load
washers, as researched on the internet by Beff. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why is there no "th"
in "Nor'easter"? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: campari tomatoes, jalapeno-stuffed olives.
NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none.
FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 0. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a ham sandwich, two ham sandwiches, three ham
sandwiches, four ham sandwiches. Davy's creativity in this regard is at a low ebb this morning.
This is the week that made me really, really, really, really want to stop being the Chair. Enough details
about Brandeis. I was asked for materials for one of my possible antidotes to this friggin place, and sent
them out on Saturday.
They That Make -- maybe I should start calling them Then What Make -- screwed up pretty badly on the
Nor'easter that just passed through yesterday (and which is still having its way in eastern Maine). As usual,
the forecast four days before the storm was for snow showers or mixed precip on Thursday, and two days
before, lots of dire predictions and big, big letters on TV weather maps called for another big one. As of
Wednesday morning all the news channels put our part of the state in a 12-18 inch snowfall or even a 15-18
inch snowfall band, and it was to be heavy, wet stuff that makes hands blister and grown men cry. On
Wednesday morning in the South Street Market, the register guy was saying "they say a foot and a half to
two feet -- that means a dustin'." Register guy did better than Them What Make. So when we got up
yesterday morning, rather early, it was raining. The red-faced Them What Make TV people said "the rainsnow line is 60 miles north of where we thought it would be." Meaning the storm went farther north, and is
still a bad storm in Bangor, with upwards of two feet (3-6 inches originally predicted). Here, it rained until
3:30 and changed to light snow, ending up with about two inches on a crusty surface. It was easy enough
for me to shovel in my bathrobe (but not WITH my bathrobe). And I was even able to shovel a path from
the back walk to the bulkhead. Reasons to follow.
My teaching this week was full of joy and passion, as it always is. Well, at least my part of it was. Even the
drive to NEC was fun, the Buffalow wings I had for lunch at a nearby bar was fun, and the lessons there
were fun, too. I walked to the Pru to get more CryBaby Tears, which I awarded to Nathan and Mary (the
NEC students), and even had a cellphone conversation with someone in California.
During the other times, Beff noticed that more and more of our clothes were getting greenish-blackish spots
on them from being washed, and that can never be good -- this has been happening since December, and we
tried doing a few blank loads with bleach to make it stop, and it worked for a while. So Beff looked it up on
the internet, and it seems that our old washer -- which came with the house when we bought it -- is
probably leaking oil. And oil leak is mucho expensive to fix -- not to mention leaking oil means eventually
maybe washer explode or overheat or something. So Beff then researched washers on the internet, and we
settled on a front loader Whirlpool from Best Buy at 10% off -- we actually drove to BestBuy twice
because we had gotten 10% off coupons in the mail, which are only valid the 11th to 14th, and we were told
the coupons would be good -- we looked at them, and they would have been only 10% off regular price,
which was the sale price anyway. So yesterday, at which time we were supposed to have a foot of snow on
the ground, we drove in the rain to BestBuy to order a washer, and I got a new CD deck that specifically
says it reads CD-Rs and CD-RWs, since the current one is both old and is unable to read some of the CDRs that people are sending me. Monday the washer is scheduled to be delivered, and Wednesday the CD
player is scheduled. Oh joy.
So this morning after shoveling most of the driveway and front walk in my bathrobe (not WITH my

bathrobe), I shoveled a path from the back walk to the bulkhead leading into the basement -- so that the
washer can be delivered Monday. I am proud enough of this new path to include a picture of it below. The
cats seem to like it, too.
And after my teaching on Tuesday, Beff and I took separate cars to Home Depot to do something about
blocking off the crawlspace under the porch where Cammy places himself when the cats go out -- getting
him in on Sunday involved me actually crawling into that space and fetching him. So we got six concrete
blocks -- I never knew such things were only a buck and a quarter -- and two pieces of plywood that are
about the size of the apertures being blocked. We then installed them as best we could: plywood in front,
blocks leaning against them. The cats now understand that they can't go there, and come back in more
quickly. In the summer, they may be delighted when we unblock the holes.
Upcoming things include Beff's drive to Maine today for her premiere of "Winifred Goes Outside" with the
Edith Jones Project in Bangor; she will get to use her new EZ-Pass for the first time, as the Maine Turnpike
has converted to that system. Beff is probably excited (and me moreso) that when she drives to Ragdale
(north of Chicago), she'll get all the way through Ohio without once stopping at a tollbooth to hand over
cash. Cool. Beff gets back tomorrow, with voluminous tales of the two feet of new snow in Bangor (she
already confirmed that the concert, unlike most stuff in Bangor, was not cancelled). On Sunday I drive to
NYC and back in the same day, in the middle of which I will hear a dress rehearsal of SESSO E
VIOLENZA and then the actual performance. It's Merkin Hall, by the way, in case you are in New York on
Sunday. Monday marks the date of the delivery of the washer (we also paid an extra $15 to haul the old one
away). Tuesday is a possible day for the installation of a new lock assembly on the front door. Wednesday
is when the CD player is due. Thursday is faculty meeting day. And Friday is the day we go into Boston to
hear Yehudi's new piano concerto with the BSO, at 1:30. Life is complex.
Last Friday Geoffy took us out for seafood, and on Saturday we ordered Domino's pizza to be delivered.
Then on Sunday we went briefly to Ken and Hillary's in Cambridge for the pre-Super Bowl party, and we
left just as the game was starting. The hors d'oeuvres were very good, as was the salsa. And the snow
STILL not removed from many of the Cambridge side streets was nothing less than breathtaking. Which is
why it was good that it got into the 50s on four straight days this week. Yes! The bad news, of course, is
that Geoffy is now not coming to the area again until May.
In the meantime, I got a suggestion that I should write a piano etude for the left-hand, and I've collected
some licks in my brain (which sounds worse if you imagine that literally) to play with, which is what
prompted the GLISS IS JUST A GLISS going through my brain (which sounds worse if you imagine that
literally). I may try to start one today, I might not. In any case, I am trying to move bedtime and waking
time later so that Sunday won't be a problem when I drive back starting around 10 from New York. Eww.
And the new expensive burr coffee grinder arrived. It is nice and quiet, and we have settled on "just a little
less than 6" as the correct number to dial for a full French press of coffee. So there, smarty pants.
Today's pictures include two pics taken from the back porch early this morning, proving that we didn't get
quite 15-18 inches of snow; Beff snapped me starting the path for the new washer, and I got her (and
Cammy) on the porch after I finished the path; the next 3 prove how the cats liked the box the coffee
grinder came in (Sunny likes to watch) and what the coffee grinder actually looks like (with pickles and
tomatoes ready to become dinner), and finally my washer path (and Cammy). I rule.
FEBRUARY 18 missing

FEBRUARY 25. Breakfast this morning was coffee, some strawberries, and echinacea tea. Dinner last
night was a big square frozen pizza that had been cooked. Lunch was, I guess, some bacon, egg and cheese
sandwiches in Jonathan Wolfsohn's office in Manhattan (I say "I guess" because it happened at 10 am).
Breakfast YESTERDAY was nifty pastries at the Hungarian pastry shop on Amsterdam and 111th.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 8.6 and 37.8. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are
parking in NYC, $30, dinner at the Abbey Pub with Marilyn $98 including tip, a temperature and humidity

gauge with remote station, $53 (we thought Marilyn's was cool), and the cost of having our taxes done
(three figures, barely). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Le Sacre du Printemps.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: We had a "way back" yard when I was growing up (the
way the plot got divided, there was a back yard, a whole mess of gardens with raspberries, blueberries,
failed corn, etc., followed by another strip of yard ending at a big tree and a place where others had
previously dumped stuff and buried it), and we kids used it for little football games and little wiffleball and
baseball games -- it was just long enough so occasionally a kid could hit a "home run" if it went beyond the
apple and pear trees. I was known as having a hard head (still am), and once while I was saying something,
another kid threw me the ball, I didn't see it, and it hit me square in the forehead. I paused a moment and
finished my sentence. We laughed so hard we drooled. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The Gates are vast, and they help
you find the most efficient ways to cut across Central Park. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Am I
still cool? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Mongolian Fire Oil (can't find it), Amaro (can't find
it), pears, jalapeno stuffed olives, Bubbies Pickles. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY
THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 0.
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the
unbearable lightness of being, what the cat dragged in, that which was spewed, a full head of steam.
As ye almost eleven know, I take one more pill now than I used to (four prescription, five
vitamin/garlic/poopy pills). By tomorrow the full effect is supposed to kick in. I'll letcha know. The doctor
-- beside saying he would have practically ordered me to resign the Chairmanship had I not already -- said
people close to me would notice a difference, no one else would. So I've been keeping everyone at arm's
length except Beff. And Valerie Guy, but that's for later. So far, not much difference except the vivid dreams
one of the almost eleven reported in his/her experience with the same pill have happened on occasion. I
dreamed music that was supposed to soothe lions in case you meet them while hiking in the woods -- the
tune goes G up a major sixth to E and down a halfstep to E-flat while the chords go C major to E-flat7 in
third inversion; then it sequences down by half step. I will use this progression, probably ironically, in a
future piece. For the "Lions" movement (followed by the Tigers and Bears movements -- hey, Columbia,
Princeton and Brown!).
But enough about me. Here's more about me. Brandeis is on vacation this week, so I had the time to finish
the left hand etude (which I reported last week is called "Ain't Got No Right" -- gotta pat myself on the
back for that one at every opportunity), and then did the busy work of entering it in my List of Comps on
this site, and on the List I use for my CV on the computer. And then I sent copies to the usual suspects (I
always get a thorough analysis from Geoffy, which is why I let him drink my water when he stays here).
Corey Hamm, for whom it was written, says he will premiere it in Minnesota on May 6. I presume he'll
take it on the road (sulla via) from there. In the meantime, Geoff reported that his premiere of Zeccatella in
Pittsboigh went well, and he reported a distinguished crowd to witness his recital. I look forward to getting
the recording, since my damn computer plays it the same way every time. Actually, that's not quite true -Finale 2004 on Windows, if I use one of the "human playback" settings chokes on the piece, and randomly
distributes some of the notes in clusters of events on occasion. The excitement of live performance
(assuming the players are not competent) is back!
On Saturday Beff and I drove into Groton, which is one of our recreational things to do when it's sunny and
we're a little stir crazy. Groton has a Main Street of all white clapboard houses (must be a town ordinance)
and three (now four) places we like to frequent. There's a nice health food store that sells Bubbies Pickles -I got three jars -- where I also got some garlic pills. Sometimes we get some staples at Donelan's Market
(not this time). We always get something unusual and exotic at the beer and wine store there. And we
discovered a cafe restaurant where we got some lovely healthy sandwiches -- Beff got the Bagel with
capers and other stuff, I think I got a chicken pesto roll-up (which dripped a lot, in a nice way). Predictably,
this was the sort of place that plays the same sort of Gipsy Kings stuff on the stereo that similar such places
tend to play.
Which leads me to an incredibly boring sidebar. When I was the Djerassi Foundation in March 1991 was
when the Gipsy Kings were first making it big (sort of on a parallel with pesto, Starbucks, and stoneground
bread, all of which seem to have been made for each other). One of the writers there was infatuated with

them (as it was not yet possible to go to a lot of Starbucks or get pesto or stoneground bread), and he played
them at dinner time every night. Strangely, hearing Gipsy Kings at the stoneground places doesn't bring
back those Djerassi dinners -- but it does occasionally make me dizzy from the number of times I feel it
necessary to roll my eyes.
Sidebar over. We got Belgian style wheat beers in Groton, which were good. Then we drove home.
I think we had more snow in the middle of the week, which was a pain -- the storm on Monday and
Tuesday lingered such that I had to shovel two inches Monday and three inches Tuesday morning, all of
that while Beff was in Maine doing admissions (her colleagues sent sage advice: "don't let the bastards get
you down" -- I think "astar" actually was replaced with five asterisks in the way Beff said it). For the sake
of completeness, we got three inches overnight, which is nearly all shoveled now (Beff is outside doing the
bottom part of the driveway as I type this).
Midweek was our big trip to New York. I, of course, did all the driving, and Beff did all the iPod
programming (Alanis, Prince ...). The purpose of the trip was to see Jonathan, our accountant, in Manhattan
on Thursday morning. But there were side benefits. I had already reserved Marilyn Nonken's couch for us
for Wednesday night, and on Wednesday afternoon, Augustus Arnone came to be coached by Marilyn on
his upcoming recital -- which includes a bunch of Davytudes. So we met for the first time, and I got to play
composer guy (which is what I am in real life, anyway) while he played through Zipper Tango, Cell
Division, and Eight Misbehavin'. Of course, I thought it was marvelous -- hey, I was hearing Cell Division
for the first time, and I was like, how soon can we take this on the road? But to be composer guy, I had a
few very basic things to say, but then I was able to sit back while Marilyn got real particular with piano
playing technique kind of stuff that this trombone boy never thinks about. Which voice do you emphasize
when playing slow octaves? How the heck should I know? How do you describe how grace notes should be
played in a tango? Dunno. How do you de-emphasize a line that's emphasized in the writing anyway? Uh....
But it was all cool, and afterwards Beff and I and Marilyn went to the Abbey Pub, as is our want, for
dinner. Then we walked back and slept on the couch. While Marilyn and I were getting on Augustus's case,
Beff went to the Cooper-Hewitt Museum. Before that, we had eaten Chinese at Pearl's on Amsterdam and
99th (good), and walked across Central Park at 96th, encountering a portion of the big Christo thing. I got
to see them in two separate paths, as we walked all the way to Park Ave and I walked back a little farther
north -- and in the right light they are impressive, but they also look like construction signs. The best thing
about them was that they provided a visual clue as to which was going to be the most direct path to the
other side of the park.
Thursday morning we went first to M2M, a market on Broadway, to look for Mongolian Fire Oil -- I
haven't been able to find it around here -- and we got two containers of something that looks similar. Hey, I
like it in my stir fry and hot & sour soup, okay? Then we did the Hungarian Pastry shop -- it's a miracle it's
still there -- and I retrieved messages and found that Jonathan's office wanted us to show up a half hour
early. So we did -- his Manhattan office is on Seventh Ave and 29th -- he ordered out for us, and we bore
down on the taxes. Good old Stoeger Prize puts a major wrench in the works, of course -- instead of giant
refunds, the first run through the taxes had us owing Uncle Sam and Maine, getting a little back from
Massachusetts. More massaging must be done with the numbers. He actually told us to call him back
around midnight on Monday for an update. Vot a guy.
After finishing our appointment, we took the subway up to 66th to -- get this -- look at our own composer
bins at Tower Records (the fact that we took pictures that you can see below makes us even dweebier -"like Googling yourself", as someone put it). Beff was also looking for the new Adam Guettel on CD,
which seems not yet to exist. Then we called up our friend Valerie Guy at the Chamber Music Society, she
happened to be in her office, and we hung out for a while, having a great time. After that, we zipped up to
112th Street to get the car, and made the drive home. There was some urgency, as everyone in New York
was talking about a six inch snowstorm on the way that would begin in the afternoon -- we made it! We
spoke to Sooooozie from the car, but of course at the Connecticut line we got cut off by lack of service.
When we got home there was the business of taking care of the cats -- as before, we'd left two kinds of dry
food out and one bowl was empty while the other was not touched -- and getting sushi for the next day's

lunch. Suddenly we brought up the cool humidity/temp thing that Marilyn had for her piano (she got it at
Brookstone), so I hopped over to Radio Shack. All they had with the humidity thing was the deluxe model
with a remote one for outside, so we set it up with a station by the Klavinova and the main station on the
piano downstairs. I resisted the urge to put a picture below. Our humidity is 34 percent downstairs, 31
percent upstairs. At the moment.
Which reminds me. Today our piano gets its yearly tuning. Hopefully Steve Chrzan (the tuner) will be able
to get the keys to stop sticking so I don't have to punch the piano any more. My knuckle actually still hurts,
two weeks later. Hence the pills.
And then we got home. Other things to report this week are writing the program notes for the Rivers School
festival upcoming, finding out that someone in the midwest is writing about the Rakowski etudes for her
thesis, and finding out from Marilyn that Brad Gowen -- who wrote about Trillage in Piano & Keyboard
Magazine in 1996, prompting 120 copies to be sold -- digs my etudes but thought there were like eight of
them. Must follow up. Yaddo put streaming audio of etude #41 on their site, see link above. Other stuff
chugs along.
This week's pictures begin with four of The Gates as Davy experienced them. Followed by our bins at
Tower Records, the temp and precipitation of the last month as reported in The Globe today (the fifth
biggest snowstorm of all time is already pushed out), and a cup that Beff got at the Cooper-Hewitt museum
(you can probably not tell in the picture that it is a ceramic cup, but it is).

MARCH 4. Breakfast this morning was coffee, some blueberries, some blackberries, and a Hebrew
National Pickle in a Pouch (Beff out of town, dontcha know). Dinner was a frozen pizza heated up. Lunch
was a chicken pesto sammich from Shapiro with some leftover Fruit2O that was in the Chairman's Fridge.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 6.6 and 37.9 (spring, where the hell are you?). LARGE
EXPENSES this last week is the other half of the expense for two new storm windows and the new
lock/knob combo on the front door. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Whatever
that thing is called that Pee-Wee dances to in big shoes in Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Tequila? POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Our eighth grade basketball coach, Mr. Pequignot ("Mr. P" to the kids)
had a college roommate named John Rakowski, whom they called "Rake." Guess what his nickname for me
was? When I got into high school he was hired at the high school and became my freshman basketball
coach. Guess what my nickname was then? Guess how quickly I quit basketball and did drama instead?
Incidentally, somebody from my own team stole my special $13 green sneakers from my locker.
RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 7(!). DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK Lots of people like to use the term "black box." THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Am I
still cool? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: jalapeno stuffed olives, sugar free popsicles (even
in this cold weather), limeade. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE
PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3. INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE correctness, aptitude,
discarded copies of Yertle the Turtle, a dead bug.
As I type this -- Friday morning -- new storm windows have been installed in the window seat windows
downstairs, a new lock/doorknob combo has been installed on the front door, and a new handle for the
storm door in front is being installed and a piston being added. I am so special! Naturally, Cammy has been
hiding under the sofa for about two and a half hours, and I have no idea where Sunny is. I sat in one of the
window seats with the storm window and -- it felt suspiciously WARM. This is what happens where there
is a screen AND glass between you and the outside, not just a screen. I think I'll start telling myself that "I
am saving money in the long run."
Beff, meanwhile, is in Lake Forest, Illinois in the CENTRAL TIME ZONE at Ragdale. And she was crazy
enough to drive there from here, which, given the current weather pattern (trough over the Great Lakes and
Northeast turning on the lake effect snow machine), was a day and a half ordeal. There will be a sidebar
once I've started my story, so I'm a-warning you NOW. Beff left for Ragdale on Wednesday morning, and
she had to be there by 4:30 Central Time yesterday. So she got up at 5, and I, miraculously, was still sleepy.

So I stayed in-a-bed for another 35 minutes.

SIDEBAR: and during those 35 minutes I had another vivid musical dream, albeit a fairly boring one. I
dreamed a showy piano introduction in minor utilizing most of the keyboard and going up and then down,
followed by the beginning of what I think I understood was a Chopin mazurka in the relative major of the
introduction. There was a full accompaniment, and a tune that alternated scale degree 5 and scale degree
flat-6 a lot. And I when I awoke, I realized that the accompaniment figure was more habanera than it was
mazurka. But they BOTH end with a.
Meanwhile, I got up, Beff filled two travel mugs with coffee and carried a buttload of stuff to her car (it
was 6 degrees out), and for once left before I did (I left for Brandeis at 6:15). Both Wednesday and
Thursday were long days at Brandeis, and on Wednesday I got back at about 6:30 and listened to a message
on the answering machine from Beff stamped at 5:27: "I'm in Erie, Pennsylvania and the lake effect snow
has been incredible. They closed the interstate and I'm following some trucks who seem to know how to get
around it. I'm leaving my cell phone on." So I called her. By the time I caught up with her, she had driven
through Erie and gotten past the closed part of the interstate, and was back on her way. Later she called
from WILLOUGHBY OHIO, a suburb just to the east of Cleveland. While she talked, I looked it up on
Streets and Trips 2004, and just as I encountered "Travelodge" and "Bob Evans Restaurant" in the detail,
she told me she was staying at the Travelodge and was walking to the Bob Evans restaurant for dinner. Ah,
computers. She also asked me to ask the program how long the drive to Lake Forest from there was, and it
answered 7 hours and 40 minutes. Yesterday in my office at 1:30 I got a call from Beff, and she was
walking around downtown Lake Forest, if such a thing exists.
Nonetheless. Them What Make did pretty well with the last Nor'easter. The newspapers, of course, covered
the local winter weariness (the Globe showed a graphic of how much snow we've had this season in Boston
-- 78 inches (8th highest ever, so far) and compared it to David Ortiz (76 inches). Cute), and I note that the
temps have been about 10 degrees below normal for the last two weeks. I hate it when that happens. The
Nor'easter passed through without much fanfare on Monday night, but did leave nearly a foot here (our
forecast was for 8-12 inches), which caused me to cancel my Tuesday teaching -- as it took Beff 'n' me until
11 am to clear the sidewalks and driveway (including my FOURTH use of the snowblower this season).
What's more, we got another inch during the day and another half inch Tuesday night (trough over the
Great Lakes and Northeast, dontcha know). Beffnme took advantage of the snow day by walking to the
Quarterdeck seafood restaurant, being waited on by the actual cook, and having a nice lunch with beers. I
had the clam roll, and Beff didn't.
Meanwhile, Them What Make say another storm's a-comin' this Monday night. Oh lawdy.
One of the largest sources of stress shrunk considerably yesterday, as the Dean withdrew his proposals and
sat there at a special faculty meeting to be scolded by the faculty. A computer science professor delivered a
masterful speech, and everyone went home.
Then there was Allen Anderson's colloquium back in the music department yesterday. I was late because of
the faculty meeting, but did get to hear part of a sax quartet and all of a piano trio. Allen has changed! More
propulsive and dynamic, and still that lovely sense of when to start a new tune. And part of his piano trio
was (gasp) perpetual motion. I kept the CD, since it's cool. There were WHEAT BEERS at the reception.
New York New Music Ensemble is rehearsing at Brandeis this weekend for tomorrow night's grad
composers concert -- there will be an expensive reception because the Grad Student Association is paying
for it to make a point about what would be lost under the Dean's proposals. It was nice to see old friends in
a new but strange context -- Linda Quan, Chris Finckel, Jean Kopperud, Don Palma, Jayn Rosenfeld -- and
I reminisced (briefly if nerdily) with Linda and Chris about when they were in the Atlantic Quartet, all of
whom stayed at our place on Berrien Court in Princeton the night after they played a concert there.
Insufferable we are, yes (that's me doing the prose style of the beginning of CITIZEN KANE, which Beff
watched a few nights ago).
Last night when I got home, the application packets from the Atlantic Center were a-waitin' for me on the

back porch in a FedEx box. I presume the contents of same are confidential, but it turns out it'll be more
work than I thought. There are more applications than there are available slots. So I have to pay attention,
really look at the applications. And continue to wonder why I asked everybody to list their five favorite
pieces. Was I a-smokin' something?
Ken Ueno sent an e-mail letting me know about Gizoogle, a website that makes webpages talk sort of like
Snoop Dogg. For an example of the hilarious results, click on "Gizoogle this page" to the left.
A large part of Sunday was spent compiling my Activities Report for 2004-5, something we tenured and
tenure-track faculty have to do every year, as it's part of how they determine who gets merit raises and who
doesn't. Mine came to 17 pages, some of it because I quote in full every review I've gotten everywhere, and
every performance I know about in the report. And when I compile these things I realize -- geesh, I've got a
buttload of dissertation advisees! And new pieces -- 7 etudes, Sex Songs, Sibling Revelry, Four Rivers and
Rule of Three. Gawrsh. Since last March 1, that is.
As I typed this, Sunny showed himself to sit in the sun here in the computer room. Now I know where he
is.
The window and door guys are now gone. The storm door has a piston and needs weather stripping. So
there. Yes, Beff, they did measure the basement windows and the other storm windows upstairs.
The pictures today are at last partly for Beff's benefit, as she's in that other time zone and stuff like that. So
the new stuff just installed figures prominently below, but first, cats. There is Cammy at play under the bed,
and hiding from workmen under the couch. We have both sides of the new door assembly, evidence of the
FIRST TIME THE LEFT WINDOW SEAT WINDOW HAS BEEN OPENED IN FIVE YEARS, a detail of
the new vinyl storm window, the early part of the door process, and the strange curvy icicles outside the
bedroom window from early in the week.

MARCH 11. Breakfast this morning was coffee (Beff still out of town, dontcha know). Dinner was crackers
with lowfat peanut butter and a tomato. Lunch was Chunky Chicken soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THE LAST WEEK 6.3 and 50.5 -- wacky, huh?). LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Prince's "Willing and Able" from the Diamonds and
Pearls album. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Beff and I took a train trip to Princeton -before we were going out -- to celebrate (and revel in?) our job offers (Stanford and Reed College). On the
way down I commented on the antimacassar on the seat in front of me and mused as to why they bothered.
Beff said, "it lets the people be able to not clean them." I wrote that down in my calendar. We stayed with
Martler, as I recall, and during this time he and I "invented" the nonsense joke genre. Examples: What do
dogs have that cats don't? Credit cards. What's the difference between a pizza with the works and the Queen
of England? Pepperoni on the Queen costs extra. We made ourselve sick with laughter until we realized that
nobody else would think the jokes were funny. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Everybody else has winter fatigue, too. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why does Cammy sniff Sunny's butt so much? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: limeade, Bartlett pears. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST
WEEK: 0. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE a bug's life, a shark tale, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty.
Stupid, stupid weather continues to be everyone's obsession here. We have a winter storm warning for
tonight and tomorrow (again), and a freak windy storm passed through here on Tuesday night. During the
day it got up to 50 and I drove home in the rain. Then the rain changed to snow and the wind kicked up to,
occasionally, over 60 mph. I actually got up twice -- once to see if shovels had blown away downstairs and
once to see if the window in the attic was still in place (hey, I'm obsessive sometimes). So of course I knew
I would have to shovel before leaving my place at 6:30 am, so the alarm was set for 5:15. Dreading getting
up and doing something hard kept me awake. And when I woke up, the new snow piled up very unevenly,

anywhere from a foot to an inch. After an hour of shoveling, in two shifts, I made it to work and did my
teaching (dadburn Brandeis didn't cancel anything), and stayed there until (shudder) 4. I still feel burning in
my lungs (vestiges of childhood asthma), and hey, we'll do it all over again tomorrow. So you see, we are
all bummed about the weather. Dadburned upper level low over Quebec. Oh yes, there was thunder on
Tuesday night, and near-record low barometric pressure. Wouldn't that bum you out, too?
Getting home while it was still raining on Tuesday, I noted that water was seeping in to one of the new
storm windows. Window guys have to come back and do a little sealing. Meanwhile, though, it has been
nearly surreal using the front door as a normal door to get the mail and the newspaper. I mean, really. No,
really.
Since those paragraphs were typed, I went into Brandeis for Seungah's dissertation defense, which was
successful. John McDonald, from Tufts, had some nice questions and led the session quite well, and
afterwards we went to the Tree Top restaurant, which was pretty cheap considering. So, Doctor Oh,
sounding a lot like Doctorow, is now one of our products. This was the only dissertation I've advised that
said anything about Circadian rhythms -- so we also talked about Arcadian rhythms in Maine, Cicadian
rhythms every 19 years, etc. When I got back The Maids had just pulled into the driveway, so I went to the
Sit 'n' Bull for 45 minutes while they cleaned, and watched parts of some godawful yet strangely seductive
soap operas. I took a picture of my Buffalo wings with my cell phone camera and sent it to Corinne. She
probably will think it's spam.
On Saturday night was an excellent grad composers concert, probably the best such concert I ever went to
-- and I've been doing this since 1989, after all. The New York New Music Ensemble were the main event,
and every single piece had value and merit, and some even showed signs of a compositional voice. Gasp! It
was the rare occasion when I didn't have to avoid any composer whose piece I hated, since I liked them all.
And here's something odd -- I spent most of Saturday and Sunday writing music. I don't foresee that
happening again for some time.
It has been snowing for about an hour as I type this, and there is accumulation only on some of the pine
branches so far. That should change by tomorrow. I am supposed to be at Brandeis from 9 to 4 tomorrow
for yet another one of those gonzo retreat things where everyone shares their feelings and then someone
with a clipboard writes it all down and e-mails us. Think of Saturday as the day of much self-expression by
banal platitude. With any luck the roads won't be conducive to this event, though, and I can stay at home
and fall asleep, finally. Nonetheless.
Googling myself paid off again, and allowed me to add two performances to the performances page. Dear
almost eleven, can YOU find what is new?
Meanwhile, Earthlink got itself in a little hot water with a lot of customers, it would seem, when I was
billed for this DSL/Home Networking service at the usual rate, but the amount was more than twice the
usual. In the detail, the "USF recovery fee" -- described on the Earthlink page as state and local taxes on
internet use, and which said the Massachusetts amount never exceeds 97 cents -- was billed at $73.56. It is
usually 67 cents. A call to Earthlink provided no relief on Sunday except "we have a team looking at it,
could you please call back Thursday." So I did, and the "on hold" message was "Earthlink customers billed
excessively for USF recovery fee, we know about it, and you will receive refunds." And it DID happen. But
boy, I hate having to be the squeaky wheel. I would love to see what programming algorithm led to this
revoltin' situation.
Meanwhile. The kitties are still freaked about The Maids having swept through, and even Sunny was
cowering under the couch. He has just entered the computer room as I type this, and there is no sun for him
to sit in (see "it's been snowing for about an hour"). So he's just doing generic cat things -- a generic purr, a
generic silent meow, a generic pawing at me to pay attention.
We listened to and analyzed "Nuages" in orchestration this week, and there were some pretty good insights
-- in fact, some of them helped with the larger point of "is F or F# the stable harmonizing tone for B?"

Other stuff about orchestration was pretty good -- we decided that the orchestration alone made the
recapitulation just before the B section not a concluding sort of recap, just a reference. We talk funny at
Brandeis (because of all the stuff we put in our mouths, I guess). Meanwhile, the other teaching was as it
was.
While Beff has been gone I have gone to no great lengths to make complex meals for myself, as I do when
we are both here. This means that I finally used up all the microwave meals that have been taking up space
in the freezer, due to our having had coupons for them, are gone, and there is luxuriant space in the freezer
for future stuff. Like popsicles. Turkey medallions seems to have been a favorite microwave choice back
whenever we got these things.
On the serious side -- the Rivers School symposium is upcoming, and I will be going to plenty of those
events. I had to deal with W-9 and other such stuff for the "daylong celebration of creativity" at UMass
Dartmouth on April 15, and even come up with an abstract for my talk -- I had no idea how to relate it to
"creativity" without showing the unbearable pretentiousness of being, so I winged it. I think I said
something generic about it being both musical and visual. It doesn't really matter. I doubt I'll get a question
from the audience asking why my 45-minute spiel wasn't closer to the abstract.
Meanwhile, I was also two panels this week. Nuff said.
I am leaving Claire Colburn's Winnie and Lion Drawings on the page for this weekend. It has been very
dreary weatherwise -- 15 degrees below normal except for that brief period where the temps went way up -so I have nary a new photo to display. But display I will anyways. We have Sunny outside this morning,
Cammy inside yesterday, the backyard covered with pine droppings afer the big wind, and our display of a
ruby slippers doorstop in the living room -- we are probably the only straight people who own this
particular doorstop.

MARCH 25. Breakfast this morning was toasted English muffins with lowfat peanut butter, green tea with
peach, orange juice, and coffee. Last night's dinner was chicken sandwiches, chicken marinated in Emeril's
rosemary and gaaahlic, and salad. Lunch was Trader Joe's gazpacho with pepper and hot sauce added.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 21.7 and 52.7. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are
the other half of the work done on the door and the new storm windows, $333.50. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "More Than Words," an early '90s acoustic guitar tune by
"Xtreme" which we heard recently in the Boston Bean House in Maynard. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: One day when we were at Tanglewood (1982), Ross, Nami, Martler and I decided to
drive up to the last concert of the Johnson Composers Conference (now in Wellesley) to hear stuff and
generally suck up. We started by going to St. Albans, met my grandmother (who was still alive at the time),
and ate at Warner's Snack Bar (where I had worked for a summer six years earlier). We ate outside at picnic
tables, where seagulls tended to lurk, waiting for handouts. At our urging, Ross picked off a piece of his roll
and tossed it towards the gulls, and that motion coincided with the landing of a big blob of bird poop right
on his arm. Laughter ensued. Ross cleaned himself off in what passed for facilities. At the concert, Mygatt
and Winslow were played, and the last piece EVER played at the Johnson version of this concert with the
Musical Joke -- in the curtain call, Don Palma carried out a violin and Linda Quan carried out a double bass
-- great sight gag. On the drive back on 91 south, Nami was driving. Ross looked at the speedometer
reading 75 and said, "Come on Nami, step on it!" RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK I like olive antipasto. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDRY: What is the significance that the root of "analysis" is "anal"? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto, olives, dill relish, Tazo teas (on special at Shaws). BIRDS HEARD OR
SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE pileated woodpecker (heard), Canadian geese in
flight (heard), chimney swifts (seen and heard, WAAAY up there). FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY
THE CATS THIS WEEK 1 (the glass part of a picture frame holding a piece of art by Tama Hochbaum).
FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an Italian word, a dictionary, an icicle, four pairs of
gloves.

I had been told by one of the almost eleven that vivid dreams came with fluoxetine hydrochloride, but I
hadn't been sleeping deeply enough to get to that point for a while. On Thursday morning, though, I played
timpani and an electric guitar (I think) in a mondo improvised performance inside what seemed like the
gymnasium of my high school. I must say, the electric guitar chords were perky. The sound of the electric
guitar was a little bit like that in a Crowded House song whose name I forget.
This morning our awakening was facilitated by the sound of something falling in the house, and I thought
the cats might have knocked a little piece of decoration over again, but it was actually a frame containing a
picture that Tama Hochbaum did for us years ago that we keep on a wicker table by the window in the
dining room. The frame shattered, I swept a bit, and Beff put it back together without the glass in it. So the
cats can continue to knock it over with impunity.
There was a long, long stretch of sunny, just barely springlike weather for us to enjoy in the earlier part of
the week, and for all the week before, and enjoy it we did last weekend. As predicted in this space, we took
Saturday morning to drive to Groton, via Route 2A with a short stop at Strawberries (I think Beff got ideas
for things to buy on amazon for less money -- but she did get the Thomas Crown Affair DVD, a "silly
movie, but fun"). I got more Bubbies Pickles at the health food store in Groton, we got some coffee beans
at Donelans, some hip wheat beer at the beer store, and had another healthy sandwich at the coffee shop
thingie. Beff is now collecting video for a new project for Sooozie, and the text she intends to use has
references to coffee, mist, and fish -- so we planned our route for her to get video of that kind of stuff. She
got a shot of the outside of that coffee shop AND the outside and inside of the Boston Bean House in
Maynard (where we returned for more shots on Monday), and when we returned to Maynard, she filmed
the fish on display at the fish market portion of the Quarterdeck. We have a lovely movie of a pan of some
fish in crushed ice with a voice-over said to the people who work there: "Just filmin' the fish."
Upon our return, we noticed that the sun had heated up the porch so that it was human-habitable, so we
opened it up, cleaned it (well, BEFF cleaned it), and spent some quality time sittin' and relaxin'. The cats
also enjoyed it immensely, and it was the initiation of spring fever for both of us. Napping on the futon was
strangely satisfying despite the traffic sounds. Then I made chicken sandwiches, and all was well. Boy, that
Emerils marinade is good stuff.
On Sunday we both had pancakes for breakfast -- my first in a while -- and repaired out to the porch yet
again to recapture our spring fever, at which time I started taking pictures. Being documentary guy, I do
that. Shortly, in order to make the porch even more hospitable, I moved the Adirondack chairs -- which we
store on the porch in the winter -- out into the back yard. This is more of a chore than it sounds like because
of the awkward angles I have to carry the chairs at to get them through the narrow door that doesn't open all
the way. Not to mention, the yard was only about 15% bare, so there was the carrying them through the
snow thing goin' on, too. I insisted that Beff document the first Adirondack chair-sitting of the season,
which, dear almost eleven, you will find below. Once the chairs were cleared out of the porch, that left just
the hammock net and the bigass Stoeger Prize check, and the cats went wild. Later in the day, it clouded up
and Them What Make said we'd get rain, or 3-4 inches of snow. And we got neither.
The porch is also being used to store a few things that we eventually have to take to Maynard firstSaturday-of-the-month trash day. There's the TV that gives us green pictures for the first 20 minutes it ison,
plus a monitor for the Windows computer that simply stopped working late last fall. We were also planning
on getting rid of the old piano bench -- one of the legs collapsed in one of Ken Ueno's particularly fat
moments during a late night limoncello and I'd managed to cobble it back together, but then Sara at
Brandeis asked me what I could do with an extra piano bench and I said "make it mine" -- but that would
have been $10 worth of Maynard trash stickers, which is way too much. So I disassembled the sucker,
threw away a bunch of screws and hinges, and we burned it. The particle board part of it burned very hot, in
case you were playing along at home, but the rest burned fairly slowly. The metal bracing brackets for the
legs were the only part left, um, standing. So, cool. Or, hot. I took a picture of the bench burning, but did
not include it in this space.
Monday was a vacation day for NEC, so I didn't have to get up. So we didn't. We did more beezness, and,

as intimated above, went to the Bean House (which is really a fancy coffee shop) and CVS, and Beff got
more video. I enjoyed watching the videos on her laptop. And then we discovered the movie section of
www.infinitecat.com and laughed and laughed and laughed at the one called "Cat Hypnotism." And I
showed it to everyone at Brandeis, whose days were therefore made.
While Beff was in Maine -- she left Monday afternoon, got back Wednesday night -- my teaching at
Brandeis was exemplary, as was my interviewing of prospective students (I resisted the urge to snarl, pull
out phlegm from my eyes and yell "Why Brandeis, mo'fo?"). On Wednesday night I went to the Rivers
School to hear four groups/individuals run through the pieces of mine being done on their Contemporary
Music for the Young symposium next weekend. I rediscovered "Firecat," which the players like more than I
do, and have heard the string quartet version of "Elegy" now for the first time in 23 years. The group doing
the commissioned piece was very, very good, and my piece even has cool stuff in it. The clarinetist -- who
has a nice sound -- said I had written "quite a piece," which is always a fun expression because it can mean
nearly anything (usually used in my corner of the biz to be polite to a composer whose piece you hated). I
met, for the first time, Ethel Farny, who coaches that group and who has been in e-mail contact with me for
six months. I only bring this up because both of her names have five letters.
On Monday I witnessed the first crocuses of the season in the back yard. They had just popped out, despite
the fact that there was still much snow around them, and hadn't opened yet. On Tuesday it was sunny and
they were in full bloom -- spring fever! I took pictures, as I do every year. This time I even have them
contextualized against a virtual sea of snow viewed in the near distance.
So Thursday morning was YASS! Yet Another Snowstorm. About 3 or 4 inches of very slushy and heavy
snow overnight, and everybody is sick of it, of course. I had told Shawna at Brandeis that when I put out
the Adirondack chairs that means one more snowstorm and we're done, so this was it -- or so I told myself.
I took the yearly shot of snow on the chairs (one is on Beff's webpage from about 4 years ago) after doing
the big shovel -- complicated by the fact that the garbage and recycling were also in the driveway. Because
it was garbage and recycling day. The walk was sufficiently shoveled that there wasn't any drool or snot on
our mail. The snow had high enough water content that a large portion of the yards that were bare on
Wednesday are bare again, just wetter and muddier.
Also on the weekend we shopped for a frame for one of Claire Colburn's pictures -- we scanned it and blew
up just the Winnie drawing and printed it blow up. Currently, it is resting on the computer table in the
dining room, which hasn't held a computer since we got the cats, except for a day or so at a time. We are
looking for a more suitable place for Claire's picture, especially given that it has a glass frame. The frame
was purchased at the camera shop that shares a door with the Bank of America, and is always deserted. We
must have made their day.
With the spring 2006 leave approved, I am now in the process of planning a colony hop, and Beff and I
decided we'd like to try to do VCCA together over Christmas 2005-6 (we last did that in 1996-7 while I was
writing Attitude Problem and Martler and she was learning how to do full-resolution computer tape pieces),
and we discovered that the application is due earlier than we thought. Wow, my first applications in more
than two years. I hope I remember how. I will also be trying Yaddo and MacDowell and possibly Ragdale
and possibly even Bogliasco. So much stuff, so little time! And while I'm gone I guess Beff will be taking
care of the cats in the Maine house -- which will be weird and surreal for them. Anyone who wants to
housesit in Maynard ca. Dec. 23 - Jan. 16, make yourself known.
I also got an official invitation for the Yaddo benefit on May 3 which Rick Moody had set up for us. Me 'n'
Beff will go as ourselves, and this benefit has a musical theme. In fact, the invitation says that excerpts
from the "Yaddo jukebox" will include me, Paul Moravec, Stewart Wallace, and Carolyn Yarnell. Which is
cool, because I haven't met half those people and wish to do so. The MC will be Peter Schickele, and it will
be weird being introduced by PDQ Bach, in order to introduce Adam Marks playing a piano with his fists.
Everyone else will look so refined compared to me, and that will be sweet irony. I only said that because
I've never typed that phrase before in my life. I hope I don't get all dweeby and tell Schickele that I've been
listening to PDQ Bach since 1974.

And today is Good Friday. Gut Freitag. Bonne vendredi. Buon venerdi. Even Brandeis gets the day off. But
Passover isn't for another month yet. Funny that. Four more weeks of classes and we are done. So we plan
on being really cool people today. Which means it's just another day.
Today's pictures include Claire's drawing in a frame, Cammy doing a funny expression while wanting to
come inside, Beff and Sunny experiencing spring fever on the porch, the ritual first sitting in the
Adirondack chair, crocuses on Wednesday, crocuses on Thursday, and this year's ritual shot of Adirondack
chairs covered in snow.

APRIL FOOLS DAY. Breakfast this morning was coffee and orange juice. Dinner was soup for Beff and a
Trader Joe's pizza for me. Lunch had been tomato sandwiches for both of us. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 22.3 and 60.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are half of the quote
for two new storm windows and two new basement windows fully installed, $512. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I Love the Night Life" -- thanks to something Beff said as we
were airportward. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I've written in several places about the
premiere of my first piece ever, for my high school band, where I mention that all of the third clarinetists
were drunk (June 1, 1975) -- some of whom had never played the piece and were sightreading. I don't
exactly come out sparkling in this story, either, since I had perfectly good conducting patterns, yet still felt
the need to mouth, very prominently, "ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR" every once in a while as I gave cues.
There was a bunch of skittery percussion at the beginning with very hard rhythms, and of course none of
the percussionists was close to what I wrote -- except Verne Colburn, who sat in and played the woodblock
part con fuoco. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Hammocking is fun. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Where is the
outrage? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Bartlett pears, blackberries, tomatoes, hamburger dill
pickles. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE robin (heard,
briefly), song sparrow (heard briefly by the river), Downy woodpecker (heard). FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 4.
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE
lactation, direct-to-video, hummingbird feces, a can of spray paint.
As this is being typed, Beff is in the air -- not that she's got such great hang time. She's on her way to San
Jose, Costa Rica (do you know the way?) where she will be until the 30th. Her plane was scheduled to
leave at 7:30, stop in Miami an hour and a half, and continue right on. So that meant getting her to the
airport by 5:30 (American, Terminal B), leaving here by 4:45 to do so, and waking up at 4:00 in order to
have enough time to shower, get dressed, and have some decent neckwards gear. It's amazing how alert and
active the cats are no matter what time we get up, and they certainly helped keep our attention on our task. I
carried Beff's suitcase with a month's worth of STUFF down the stairs and probably nearly collapsed them.
I presume she's paying extra for overweight -- what with a hard drive in there and vitamins and books and
stuff. So we did leave at 4:45, the roads were a little wet from some overnight sprinkles, and we got there
almost exactly at 5:30, where lots of other people had had the same idea. I will, of course, miss her much,
and will have to get used to waiting by the answering machine as the caller ID says "out of area" and
waiting to see if there's a message, and if it's her leaving it.
On the many flip sides (we live in a multidimensional universe, dontcha know), we had a nice weekend.
There has been enough sun to open the porch at a reasonable time, and naps or reading on the porch has
been very therapeutic. I have also done therapeutic weeding and gardening in the way back yard, mostly
cutting vines and pathetic pieces of forsythia as a way of keeping that area from getting too overgrown, and
of course I have marveled at the comeback abilities of the crocuses after the midweek snow of ten days
ago. There are more crocuses than ever. And since the weather was so fine, fine, fine on the weekend, we
nearly finished the springification of the yard and storage shed. We put up the hammock and I oiled the
joints where there was a bit of rust -- the ropes of the hammock were getting a bit green, so Beff sprayed
Fantastik on it, too. We took out the picnic table, which looks like wood but is really some sort of resilient
plastic or vinyl, along with the four chairs. I also filled in the hole above which it usually sits with
expensive topsoil. Yes, I even got fingernail-dirty on the weekend.

So we also took out our regular bikes, I oiled the chains, and I put the wheelbarrow back into its usual onthe-side position by the former and abandoned garden plot by the pines. This involved actually lifting the
wheelbarrow up very high and tossing it over the fence. I was a very strong boy to do that. In order to get
the bike chains completely lubricated, I had to, of course, ride them in circles in the driveway in every
possible gear, and I left some deep ruts in the mud that are still evident in the back yard. Beff tried to
smooth them out with her shoes, which led to an episode of spraying her shoes with the hose.
And the rhubarb has just started to emerge, as well -- pictorial evidence below. Some of the hardier grasses
are greening up, but maybe about 5% of the back and 50% of the side yards are still snow-covered.
Bummer. Nonetheless. We have resumed our 2-mile circular walks that go over the Assabet bridge near the
boat landing, and the trail between the bridge and the dumping area is still icy or muddy. More hosing of
boots.
The big weather event of the week was a large and long-lasting rainstorm on Monday and Tuesday that
combined with snowmelt to make much, much flooding in the area -- the Weather Bug on this computer
was going full time as Flood Watches and Warnings kept being confirmed, including our own Assabet, in
flood stage from Tuesday to Thursday this week. The pics below, from our Thursday jaunt, show a little of
that. What's more, another superstorm of 2-4 inches of rain is predicted beginning tomorrow, so there will
be yet more. With this next storm, possibly some of my drive to work will be under a little water, as it was
in 2001. We did get some water in the basement, and it would have been sucked out by the sump pump
except that the furnace maintenance guys in December seemed to unplug it in order to use their own stuff.
It was very satisfying to plug the sucker (literally) in, and hear that giant sucking sound. Okay, that little
sucking sound.
At Brandeis this week, there were two important meetings with which I was involved. One was a disaster,
one was a resounding success. The new music curriculum is tentatively in place, and we have two new
courses for next spring. Faculty are beginning to submit their yearly Activities Reports, and so far mine is
the longest (I do my best). And the countdown to nonchairmanship has reached three months exactly -three quarters of the way there! The Dean has already started to poll the faculty on who should be the next
victim.
Beff and I also put together our VCCA applications so that we can both go there during her Christmas
vacation (at which time I start being on leave). Anyone out there who wants a nice place for Dec 23- Jan 16
and doesn't mind shoveling and using a snowblower (if appropriate) are invited to make him/herself known.
I also applied, for the first time, to the Liguria Center in Bogliasco, which is in Italy. Weird application -composers don't send scores, just a recording, and no more than 20 minutes of music. The application also
instructs the applicant on what to put on a resume -- which leads me to believe they don't get that many
quality applications. By mid-summer, I will do Yaddo and MacDowell applications. The cool thing about
the prospect of me being away (instead of Beff) and Beff being back at work is that the kitties will become
bi-statal. As in, Beff will take them to Bangor during times when I am gone. So the list of things we have
two of will expand to litter boxes and cat feeding contraptions.
I got the details of the Atlantic Center Residency and I will be leaving on a Monday instead of on a Sunday.
Beff will join me after a week, and the housesitters are Justin and then Hillary and Ken. I have to do two
outreach events with the other Master Artists (which is where I show everyone how long my arms are), and
they haven't factored Amy D into the mix yet. It was cute to find out that I was going to get my own rental
car, but would be driven to the agency by the office, would put it on my own credit card, and be
reimbursed. When things get complicated, they get complicated.
The DSL went out last night at about 5:30 says Beff -- as in, that's when the incessant Weather Bug
chirping stopped, due to the lack of a network connection. It is still out, and doing e-mail (and this) via dialup is excruciatingly slow. I think they make the DSL go buggers every once in a while just to make you
appreciate how much better it is than dial-up. And I don't even know what "go buggers" means.
I would like to report that I taught swimmingly this week, and orchestration was a real hoot. I spent and
hour and a half with harp writing and basic percussion writing. I had passed out Sam Solomon's book on

writing for percussion, which made it into Max's hands, and every time I made a point about stick hardness
or how the marimba sounds in the low register, Max was ready with a quote from the book that either
confirmed or contradicted me. I made sure to put Max on a list. I was kind of tired for my Wednesday
teaching (sorry, Charlotte, that my voice was so creaky and I yawned every five seconds), but I rallied by
the end of the day.
April is the cruellest month. Lots of performances (see the page), but I'm only going to a few of them -including the ones at the Rivers School tonight and Sunday afternoon (seeing as they have a reception in
my honor...). I'm still looking forward to my Daylong Celebration of Creativity thing, though it will mean
this space will be updated a day late (get over it), and I still need to think of something to say. I think in
about four weeks I will be pressing the flesh, in NYC, of more Brandeis donors. So I'm back on the
Rembrandt teeth-whitening stuff.
And the cats love to go outside -- for about five minutes at a time. There were several times on the weekend
and in the late afternoons when Beff and I did the Adirondack chairs when they would be more adventurous
-- but they will have to work up to the outdoor thing, I guess. They can't go under the porch any more,
thanks to our trip to Home Depot in February (pics below).
And of course while Beff is gone there will be little cleaning of the house and little effort put into
Davycuisine. I think I'm well-stocked with microwave meals and canned soups.
Today's pictures (uploaded at excruciatingly slow speeds) are: Sunny enjoying the hammock closeup and
contextually, the blocking off under the porch, the embryonic rhubarb close up, Beff filming some water, a
flooded out dock on the Assabet, the Ben Smith Dam with lots of water, and a slightly flooded yard on the
Assabet, where the water is usually 2 or 3 feet lower.

APRIL 8. Breakfast this morning was coffee, pineapple-orange juice and Boca meatless breakfast sausages.
Dinner was 95% lean hamburgers and salad. Lunch was gazpacho. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE
LAST WEEK 33.1 and (woo hoo!) 72.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are two trips to BJs for
staples, $163 and $93. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I'd Like to Know
Where You Got the Notion". POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When teaching first year
composition at Columbia, there were readings of solo flute pieces I'd assigned (dangling modifier, but who
cares?). One student had written "con fuoco" on his score, and I took it as a learning opportunity: I wrote
"con fuoco" on the board, and one student asked what that meant. Without thinking (obviously), I said, "it's
the power company for Fire Island." I then proceeded to break my arm patting myself on the back.
RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK When the snow slides off the slate roof, very occasionally it brings a slate tile with it. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Where were all these bugs during the winter? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Hamburger dill pickles, sugar free popsicles, olives, grapes. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN
THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE common yellowthroat (heard), Downy woodpecker
(heard and seen), mockingbird (heard on Brandeis campuse), house wren (heard). FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 7.
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a
piece of snot, a moral compass, a pair of tweezers, six pairs of boxer shorts.
This update gets typed in rather early. The cats were rambunctious this morning, and at about 5:30 my
vertigo -- long nascent and threatening -- came back when I laid on my left side. The room spun for a
while, and I had two dry heaves. Then I calmed down. So now until this stupid thing goes away, Alka
Seltzer Plus is on my list of things I will be taking. Currently, I seem to dizzify when I look up or look
down while bending over. What fun.
Beff is still in Costa Rica, where she will be until the 30th. She has called 3 times and e-mailed 3 times, and
I was there to pick up one of the calls. She describes great heat, loud insects at night, occasional very gusty

winds, and a steep hill to go into town, which gives great exercise, I would guess. And she is making
excellent progress on a voice and video piece for Soozie. I just hope that "Just Filmin' The Fish" from the
fish market makes it into the final cut. The inhabitants of the colony are now negotiating where the colony
field trip will be -- possibly to a volcano, possibly to some national forest type thing. In any case, there will
tend to be much wind, warmth, and steepness with which to contend.
The baseball season is back under way, and news of the Red Sox dominates the airwaves, even more than
the death of the Pope. The Sox were underwhelming against the Yankees, but the Yankees closer blew two
saves, so there were big articles about that. If that don't beat all.
The weekend was completely taken up by the Rivers Music School Symposium on Contemporary Music
for the Young. A bigass rainstorm was forecast to send downpours here all weekend, but that forecast made
Them What Make look bad -- it rained Saturday morning, and then it pretty much stopped. And by the way,
at 8 am on Saturday, I took our dead TV and a dead computer monitor to the first-Saturday-of-the-month
opportunity at the Maynard Recycling Center. Cost to me: $20. Newly available space on the porch:
priceless.
But I digressed horribly, yet again. The Rivers Seminar involved no fewer than 10 events from Friday night
to Sunday evening, and I went to 7 of them as the distinguished commissioned composer. In fact, at the
beginning of each event (probably including the 3 I missed) I was singled out and introduced, as if it were
an invitation to ask me for autographs. Friday night was the "faculty concert" which included performances
by faculty of 5- to 10-minute pieces followed by a 45-minute jazz set that seemed much longer, since
everyone presumed it would end after 20. "My" contribution, which kicked off the symposium, was
choreography by Anne Edgerton (faculty) with two professional dancers of the first two movements of
"Dances in the Dark" played in recording of the October, 2000 performance by New York New Music
Ensemble. It was good choreography -- Anne obviously noticed that there was a "bass clarinet" character
and a "piccolo" character in the second movement -- and it's always nice seeing professionals slither. My
contribution was a slight six minutes, and all the other pieces were short, too. Until the jazz set, which I
have to admit was very well done -- kudos especially to the bass player and drummer -- who looked like
Anthony Gatto when the groove really got going.
I skipped the first two events of Saturday -- a composer workshop with composers who are not me, and a
"new sounds" concert -- but caught the next two concerts, bridged by a reception. Kurt Coble did some
violin pyrotechnics, and a lot seemed familiar about him -- when he reminded me that I interviewed him for
Columbia way back when. We went through all the old times we might have had, and then there was the
brie at the reception. I skipped the 6:00 jazz concert that night in order to come back home and worry about
the roof, etc. (more on that later). Perhaps the highlight of that day was hearing a Lowell Liebermann piece
about a rhinoceros fervently performed by a kid whose legs were at least a foot short of being able to reach
the pedals. It'll be a few years before this kid can do my pedaling etude.
Sunday's events were a "literary reference" concert, a reception in honor of ME, and a final gala concert on
which I had four pieces, including the one that Rivers commissioned. And true to form, I kept being
introduced at the start of each program. Marti Epstein had one "American etude" on almost every concert,
and each one was invidividual and well-placed for the kids that played them. Why can't I write simple
pieces like that? The second movement of my flute and piano piece "Firecat" was on the "literary" concert
-- as the word firecat came from a Wallace Stevens poem -- and the players did quite a good job with a
piece that bored the heck out of me (mine).
Then there was the reception in honor of me, but hardly anyone had anything to ask me. Which suited me.
The strawberries were very good. As were the chocolate chip cookies.
And really hard pieces of mine were on the finale -- my old Elegy for string quartet, taken out of mothballs
for its first performance in 23 years, Corrente (etude 10), E-Machines, and the new piece. All of them went
surprisingly well, even the Elegy, which is a bear (the Atlantic Quartet had said, tongue-in-cheek, when
they played it in 1982 that they'd have to take out tendinitis insurance to play my piece), especially when it
steals the Adagio for Strings thing of getting really, really high at the climax. Corrente and E-Machines

went well (E-Machines was occasionally mind-bogglingly fast), and then there was "Four Rivers" for flute,
clarinet, horn and marimba. Now every composer to whom I have said what ensemble I was writing for has
done an immediate "Mr Yuck" about the combination, but I was determined to make it work. So listening to
the 11 minutes of my piece I kept mentally kicking myself for choices that didn't seem to work. But I had
the good sense to end with a perpetual motion scherzo kind of thing with chords that kept building up
around repeated notes in the marimba, and for some reason people seemed to think I had discovered great
colors in the ensemble. It was actually a good performance -- and I noted a place in the last movement
where I had written a gap in the perpetual motion in the marimba in order to facilitate a page turn (I'm
practical that way) and noted that the marimbist didn't have to turn a page. But he did get a different set of
sticks. When he came back in, he had the chord that was being sustained by the other instruments, so
maybe that's the color thing that people were talking about.
Afterwards, there were autographs to sign, little CDs and DVDs to give to the faculty I'd met at Rivers, and
a party with dinner and beer. It was a nice thing to have, and after a whole weekend of reception food, the
pork and chicken and vegetarian stuff was a welcome gastronomic relief. The Director David Tierney gave
a nice little speech, people made their retorts, and I think I agreed to do a blurb about the Seminar for their
newsletter or something.
Spring springs nicely here -- the last piece of the puzzle happened Monday when I brought the lawnmower
out of the basement, added oil, and made sure it started -- the very slight smell of gasoline mixed with old
grass brought back summer memories -- and put it into the storage shed. Sure signs of spring abound -from the crocuses going by to the daffodils being ready to emerge and violets coming up, the lawn getting
greener, the proliferation of bird songs in the morning, the emergence of the rhubarb, and especially the
tedium of me writing about it all in this space. It was mild here Tuesday through Thursday, with gradually
warming temps until yesterday's 73 degrees. I did some quality hammock time, did a lot of cutting of vines
and the like in various spots in our yard, did some raking of ailunthus detritus (say that five times fast), and
facilitated the melting of the LAST bit of snow which was by the front porch. As of Tuesday, all the snow
was finally gone.
While surveying all that we own, I encountered a large slate roof tile on the ground in the side yard on the
west side of the house. It's big -- about a foot by a foot and a half -- and was a little broken in one corner. I
looked up onto the roof to find a space where a tile once was but now wasn't. So I asked the people at
Maynard door and window if they knew someone who did slate roofs (the last time we called someone
about it, four places never returned the call, and the fifth that did scheduled a visit but didn't show up), and
they gave me a number. Got the guy right away -- who was driving and pulled over in order to take my
info. He's to show up later today to look at it. Meanwhile, there was a half-sized tile on the south-facing
roof that had fallen off before we bought the house -- it's been on the edge of the roof over the mud room
all this time -- and I ventured out yesterday morning to retrieve it. Heavy!
The Marine Band sent the final version of Sibling Revelry as it will be made available to Midwest Clinic
types who bought the concert -- it seems to be all the 6:45 performance except for the very end of Moody's
Blues, where there is a pretty obvious splice where the crotales are hit. Meanwhile, in orchestration I first
talked about various things regarding notation, then talked about the wind band. They all have to write for it
this week. I played them the beginning of Schwantner's "Mountains Rising Nowhere" thing that made his
reputation, and what makes it a successful band piece is that it doesn't actually use the band at all -- it's all
piano stuff and wine glass chords and the band singing notes. How precious. There wasn't much of a lesson
in how to score for winds from that piece....
As this is being typed, I am doing laundry for the third time since Beff went Costa Ricawards. I hope she
will be proud of me. Soon roof guy comes. Tomorrow my picture is being taken for an upcoming story on
me for Signal to Noise magazine, which is being written by Christian Carey. I am considering the options
of what would make the coolest shot without being pretentious. On the big slabs by the Ben Smith Dam?
By the parking garage structure at the mill? At the opening to the old railroad tracks nearby? At the old ice
house area where there's a granite slab with a quote from Thoreau about River Towns? By the nice view in
Harvard or by the town green there? It will be a black and white photo, and the guy coming out to do it is
really into fonts and so he knows me that way. Wow.

The local rivers are no longer flooding, but the stupid Weather Bug thing still chirps at me all day because
rivers 80 miles away are flooding. I wish it would just shut up.
I made a few trips to BJs, mostly to get more cat food and cat litter, but also got bigass jars of hamburger
dill pickles, campari tomatoes, DVD-Rs, DVD storage packs, and such other things as I deemed necessary.
BJ's is a fun place to shop because there is so much of everything. Hey, I now even have extra
Worcestershire sauce because it came free with my 2-pack of hot sauce.
Next Friday, the Daylong Celebration of Creativity. This update will be a day late. Deal with it.
Today's pictures begin with my gratuitous yearly picture of myself holding a beer on the hammock. This be
followed by a picture of the large tile that fell from the roof this winter, on permanent display. Note canoe
in background. These are followed by tedious closeups of signs of spring: the veiny crocuses, a nascent
rhododendron, a nascent rhubarb, a nascent bumch of daffodils, nascent violets, and a terribly cute picture
of Sunny asleep in the computer room.

APRIL 16. Breakfast this morning is coffee and pineapple-orange juice. Dinner was a chicken cutlet and
macaroni and cheese microwave concoction. Lunch, in New Bedford, was a roast beef sammich, apple,
potato chips, and ice tea. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 26.3 and 70.5. LARGE
EXPENSES this last week a down payment on a third of the cost of roof work: $3500. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I Don't Want a Pickle -- I Just Wanna Ride My Motor-Sickle".
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Jon Lang and I were expert belchers-on-demand in high
school, and normally we used this talent to gross people out (can you think of a better use?). But our talent,
collectively, was finally put to good use when the music department put on a production of "Oliver." Sam
Newton, who played Mr. Bumble, has a scene where he has to belch and a woman utters the groaner, "Are
you going to sit there all day snoring?" Sam couldn't belch on demand, so Jon and I stood in the wings,
Sam acted out a belch, and the two of us let it rip. Worked every time. RECOMMENDATION/
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 3. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Downtown New
Bedford. Pretty buildings. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: How did we get the word "daffodil"?
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Hamburger dill pickles, sugar free popsicles, and a new kind
of weirdo sammich: jalapeno peppers in a folded-over slice of fat-free cheese. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN
THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE Phoebe (heard, lots). Also, peepers have been around
for several weeks. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF
SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 8. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE Ms. Potato Head, the notion that I'd like to know where you got, seven bags
of peat moss, a slinky.
The vertigo of which I wrote last week precisely here was, thankfully, short-lived -- only about a day or so.
That echinacea stuff apparently helps, since that was the first episode in about 21 months. Currently, the
cold that went around here may be making its way into me, but I have been successful so far at keeping it
away.
The last week of school is upon us, and that brings with it many things. The "Leonard Bernstein Festival of
Creative Arts" is going on on campus this weekend, and I have to introduce two of the acts tomorrow. And I
have to do my favorite chairman task of the year, salary recommendations that will be overruled anyway. At
the end of the week the second-year grad students start their general exams. And only one more day of
orchestration. A week from Wednesday I am having lunch with the President of Brandeis, and I don't know
why.
This is a Saturday update instead of a Friday one because of the "Symposium on Creativity" in which I was
a participant happened yesterday, in an old building in downtown New Bedford owned by the UMass
Dartmouth campus. I got up plenty early, as it IS an hour and a half drive and I expected rush hour traffic to
suck. Nonetheless, I got there early enough to have my own breakfast as well as the one that was provided.
I explored a little bit of downtown New Bedford, which has lots of nice art deco buildings and facades and

a mish mash of different businesses, and many empty storefronts. My jaunts were brief, as it was 30
degrees and I just had my suit on. There were also a lot of old mills that looked very stylish, if empty. And a
whaling museum, which was not open at the time I was walking around. While walking around, I got some
hot sauce and teeth-brushing thingies at Brooks drugs. And then it was to the symposium. Where one of the
first things I did was to brush my teeth with one of those thingies -- a thing you wrap on your finger and rub
your teeth with, and it was minty fresh. Which means that I, too, was minty fresh. Both words of which
have five letters. Oh, why can't someone out there be named Minty Fresh? Any volunteers, almost eleven?
Since I had CDs and DVDs -- and since other presenters were projecting Power Point presentations from
their own computers -- there was a long early morning span of getting the technology to work. And I'm glad
to say I figured out the projector for them, which was crucial -- after all, Amy Dissanayake was going to be
on that white wall, much larger than life. The Dean who popped into my colloquium at UMass Dartmouth
back in October was the emcee, and said effusive things about each presenter -- he's also the kind of guy
that grabs your shoulder before he begins talking to you. So the event started with a new alumni award, and
the winner gave a sterling presentation about how design can change the world (you had to be there). My
part in this was to press PLAY on the DVD player to play a performance of John Lennon's "Imagine" sung
by someone else. He was followed by a biologist who detailed the mechanics of the brain and their relation
to creativity. Unsurprisingly from a doctor, eating right, exercising, and meditating were his
recommendations for the best creativity. And then I got my own effusive introduction, used my buzzwords
(metaphor, association and intuition), and played stuff, much to the surprise and amazement of them what
were in attendance. Actually, I think I forgot to say anything about intuition.
Then we were directed to a building two blocks away to view art by students and to get free bag lunches.
Timmy Melbinger, who teaches at Dartmouth, came to my part of the show, as did current student Jon
"Jon" Yoken, with his mother, and we all ambled to this free lunch building. The art was VERY impressive,
and it's clear that at least for artistic stuff this University must be a prime destination. As to the food, I
wouldn't make it a destination. I then ambled back to catch the first part of the afternoon events -- boy, I
amble a lot, don't I? Here UMassD faculty in art talked about what they are doing -- students doing virtual
reality simulations (they all looked like video games because they use a video game building program to
make them), a graduate doing site-specific art in North Carolina, making slides available digitally (how
often have I heard that quandary?), students proposing projects to comment on or revitalize the New
Bedford area. By this time, I'd had enough, and skipped about before the last two presentation, paid ten
bucks at a parking garage, and made the drive home -- and what a dull one it was as well.
And during that drive I found out that the music department is now most definitely without an academic
administrator, as Nancy Redgate died in her sleep yesterday morning. We knew for a while that it was
coming, but it still came as a bit of a shock. The last time I saw her was with Beff during February
vacation, and she wasn't with it very much, was very tired, and her usual cranky self. We will most
certainly miss her, a lot.
Them what make tell us that a blocking high has been over Hudson Bay keeping precipitation away from
us -- except for some snow showers that backed in Monday night, not at all surprising anyone -- and that
we spent most of the week on the cold side of it. So it has gotten below freezing most nights this week and
only into the 40s and 50s during the day, a pattern we are told will change this week. Today, 62. Tomorrow,
70. Every day next week over 70, and upper 70s on Wednesday. Big woo hoo there, pardner. Spring
continues to spring, and I project about a week and a half to two weeks will be my first abbreviated lawn
mowing -- the grass in the apple tree part of the yard is taking hold. Lots of yellow right in front of the
Adirondack chairs, but the comeback is coming there, too. The grape-y nuisancy things are starting to
sprout in the way back, and I am uprooting them when I can, and the nettle-grass (that stings if you touch
it) is coming up, too. Forsythias at Brandeis are in bloom, but ours are a ways away from blooming. Spring
sprang enough by Sunday for me to find out how out of shape the winter made me -- I had my first bike
ride, the shortest possible one (4 miles), and I was durn winded when it was over. Legs are fine, though. I
presume more are to follow, and longer ones. I also FINALLY took the last snow shovel and stored it in the
garage.
It is 8 am Saturday morning as I type this, and I hear a lawnmower, but do not know exactly where it is.

Cool.
So on Friday, the roof guy came, as predicted. My Medieval specialist friends (we all have them) will be
impressed to know that his company is called the Twelfth Century Slate Roofing Company, and that he
specializes in slate roofs (which must have been invented in the 1100s, or I didn't get the joke). He was
recommended by the Maynard Door and Window people (who have our four new windows and are ready to
put them in, too), showed up at 9 after doing a full traversal of the house. He pointed to some botched
repairs done by previous owners (tarring chimneys instead of surrounding them with metal), and gave us
two quotes: to replace the two fallen tiles and slather up the attic dormer that leaks a bit, a grand. To do a
really good job and replace the flaked slate with copper and do the chimneys proper, $10,555. At first I said
just do the patches, but I talked about it with Beff, and we decided to go for the whole magilla. Replacing
the whole roof would be $80,000, which is kind of out of the question. The guy did say that the house was
really sturdily built and was a gem, and that you couldn't get anything like it for a million bucks nowadays
(built new, I presume he meant). But there is the issue of the 95-year old roof. And we have
PENNSYLVANIA slate, he says, the only kind that flakes with age (we have plenty of them in the back
yard).
So meanwhile, I look outside and see green. Ahh. A composerly lesson in the value of delaying the real
recapitulation.
Meals this week include dinner TONIGHT with the Chafes and lunch Thursday with Anny Jones, who won
lunch with me at a raffle at a music department party. Everything else is just a light.
I didn't have much time to enjoy my house and yark this week, as teaching and events piled up -- including
Yoko Nakatani's dissertation defense (good to see Kathy Alexander, who was the outside reader, again) and
a colloquium by Peter Child. There were also the Open Houses for students accepted to Brandeis who
haven't made up their minds, so I did several of those events. And got to hear, "well I'm really interested in
music but I don't know if I want to MAJOR in it..." the usual thousand or so times.
My fame continues to spread far and wide, or near and thin -- I don't remember which one exactly. On the
online Sequenza21, my etudes are listed as one of the 111 most influential pieces since 1970. I don't know
what that means, or even if I should show up for the ceremony (on which I could stand -- rim shot) if there
is one, but I suppose I shouldn't want to be part of a list that would have me as part of a list. Gotta work on
the delivery of that joke.
The DVD and CD of the Marine band stuff from the Midwest Conference arrived Monday night, just in
time for me to waste time in orchestration playing them. The students were impressed as I named
performers as they flashed by (Cynthia ... Barbara, oh she played the crap out of that bass clarinet stuff in
Ten of a Kind ... Lisa ... Gail, Betsy, Elizabeth -- she's new -- Barbara again ... Jay ... the hornist is actually
named Amy Horn ... oh what's his name?). And in the second performance of Moody's Blues, you actually
see the vibraslap played -- in this case by being hit against the timpanist's right leg. We watched quite a bit
of the Schwantner percussion concerto -- in order to get a feel for the percussion instruments discussed in
class -- and the class was all over the music: "What 70s TV theme is this?" "Uh oh, Captain Kirk is in real
trouble now!" "The desert was ... parched." The student appreciated the row of tuned almglockens in the
front battery which was there just to recapitulate the already-forgotten ostinato of the first movement, and I
got to reminisce about being in the mountains of Switzerland and hearing all those almglocks hung on
distant cows a-tollin'. For dessert we watched a bunch of Boulez conducting the Rite of Spring. And Rick
B. kept piping in with "...and just when you thought he'd run out of great ideas..."
That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.
Today's pictures start with a couple of closeup flora shots from the garden immediately behind the grill.
Next we see the current state (as of Tuesday) of the rhubarb coming up, Cammy's tail poking out as he
hides out under the grill, the current state of our canoe and the back yard, and the west-facing roof with
missing tile circled ever so artistically.

APRIL 22. Breakfast this morning coffee, orange juice, coffee again, and a red danish. Dinner last night
was a tuna burger and a salmon burger. Lunch was salmon on a bed of rice with vegetables at the
Quarterdeck restaurant, and an appetizer of steamers. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK
26.6 and (woo hoo!) 86.5. LARGE EXPENSES this last week were none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The band version of Strident. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
Here is a story that actually appeared in the regular text of this page, now reduced to nostalgia. In Theory 2
-- a mere 15 months ago -- when Variations was the topic, I was playing one student's them and remarked
that it sounded a bit like a jazz tune, and he said it was transcribed from a banjo recording. I said, "Bela
Fleck?" He said yes -- "what other banjo player is there beside Bela Fleck?" Without missing a beat, I said,
"Well, there's always Popeye." Mass look of confusion from the students. "Oh, not THAT Popeye -- I mean
this other Popeye. You know, the banjo playing Popeye." RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 6. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the little sprinkler attachment for the
hose, long forgotten in the garage. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why is the chemical symbol for
Potassium "K"? (I actually know the answer) RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Hamburger dill
pickles, sugar free popsicles, olives in various configuration. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE Whatever one goes "churr" a lot. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 5 (of 6).
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the
feeling of pointlessness, a kewpie doll, tweezers, next year's calendar.
Yesterday a student e-mailed to ask the difference between an overlap and an elision. Whatever I answered
he said I was wrong. So I stopped answering. So now there's an overlap/elision happening here: the last day
of classes elided/overlapped with the first day of work on our roof. First, I feel very fortunate to have found
a contractor who starts the work within a week of the contract for the work being signed and the down
payment being made. I found out about it as I retrieved messages from my cell phone on the drive home
from work this morning -- and, lo and behold, there was a truck in the driveway, some large copper sheets
next to it, and two large ladders against the house. Amazing.
Maybe the more amazing thing was the old tiles they ripped out in order to cover with copper -- one
zoomed right down and landed at an angle, stuck in the ground. I took a picture, dontcha know. And of
course the cats are more than a bit spooked by the sound of hammering coming from the highest reaches of
their living space. I believe Cammy will spend the next three weeks under the couch, including the times
when there are no such sounds coming from up there. Sunny files nervously into the computer room for a
reassuring petting, then exits again, looking very worried. And that's the truth.
Beff continues her Costa Rican sojourn, and is beginning her last full week there -- it will be good to have
her back here, 10:15 pm next Saturday night, flight from Dallas, Terminal B. Near as I can tell, a field trip
to the Caribbean coast was cancelled due to wind and a field trip to the equidistant Pacific coast substituted.
I'm sure I'll get the full story and pictures -- some of which may show up in this space, naturally.
I turned the heat in the house off on Monday morning, and so far it is still off -- though it's getting a bit
nippy inside today, having gone down to freezing overnight. It was July here on Wednesday, making it up
to 87 with a dewpoint of 41 -- very, very dry heat, Arizona-like, they tell me -- and there was an extremely
elevated fire danger warning for the whole area. It was odd being in the middle of summer with still-bare
trees everywhere and grass not yet ready to mow. Shonuff spent a little time on the hammock, though. After
my five hours of teaching, that is. We have much rain and cold predicted for the weekend, so I presume I'll
have to relent and turn back on the heat. It had gotten so dry that I actually took a sprinkler to the lawn -what with so much yellow in what are usually the greenest places. The sprinkler attachment was grody
from 3 years unused in the garage, so I ungrodied it.
On Saturday, as predicted in this very space, the Chafes came over, we had some expensive beer while
sitting in the Adirondack chairs, and then went to the Quarterdeck. For the first time I had neither the Cajun
combo nor the clam roll, and instead I had a grilled salmon with a wine sauce. It was exquisite, even
moreso than the beer was. Eric got the cajun combo and I forget what Pat got. When all was said and done,
we were fatandhappy.

On Sunday I had to make my several appearances to introduce the acts at the Leonard Bernstein Festival of
Creative Arts, and it turned out to be a gloriously sunny day, warm and stuff. In between my service, I
ambled up to in front of the Shapiro Student Center and partook of the competing Braunstein Festival -where there were free hamburgers if you stood in line a long time, inflatable carnival type things (a bouncy
one and an obstacle course), a kissing booth, and a sex olympics (or so they said). I just dug the sunny and
warm weather and the black t-shirt I was wearing. I had to announce the Early Music Ensemble and the
organist Jason Cloen (see page 1) and had cue cards with my introduction already written. The EME card
contained the howler "Sephardic polyphony" and Jason's wanted me to call him "organic," but I had my
way with both introductions. And Sarah Mead shonuff made sure I said the right stuff. EME was very
impressive, as everyone sang and played one, two, or three instruments. Ah, the recorder.
Meanwhile, the Red Sox vaulted into first place by shutting out the Orioles twice.
I must say that I taught unimpeachably this week (because I did), and was grateful that Jeff Roberts took up
a large portion of my orchestration class with his dissertation topic. I was also grateful to get home and start
what I hope will finally be a near-daily bike ride regimen. Six miles Tuesday and Nine miles Wednesday -alas, only three miles yesterday as it got cold again. I'm shooting for ten today with the West Acton ride -later when it warms up a bit more.
I went into work this morning expecting to take all day to write a report. It was finished at 9:30. Good
thing, too, because it meant I could get back here and experience the pounding of my roof and share it with
the cats. Yesterday afternoon I pruned a whole buttload of the cedars out in the "L" part of the yard, near the
apple tree, and I'm not sure why. Except for the feeling of accomplishment. There I noticed that the grass is
getting somewhat long out there -- I may MOW a bit later today, too, woo hoo.
Boy, this was a boring update. More of the same next week, I am sure. Next Thursday I drive to New York
and meet with a Brandeis alum interested in making a donation. I love doing that. Meanwhile, the May 3
Yaddo event sent me more e-mails, and we will be staying with Hayes and Susan when in New York. Three
snaps for that. Tomorrow the Corolla goes in for its 45,000 mile service, which they tell me will take two
hours. So, walking around in the cold and rain will be my lot for the morning. Wish me luck.
Today's pictures are the forsythias on the side of the house and by the garage -- pathetic, huh? Then we
have extreme closeups of the hostas coming back and the embryonic flowers on the red rhododendron, and
Cammy looking out the window. This is followed by the current ladder situation, the copper plates ready to
install, and the slate tile that lodged in the yard.

APRIL 29. Breakfast this morning coffee and a blueberry scone, eaten in the driver's seat of a blue Toyota
Corolla (mine). Dinner was vegetable tempura, miso soup, chicken teriyaki, and vanilla ice cream. Lunch
was shredded chicken with garlic sauce and hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST
WEEK 36.1 and 71.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week were the rest of the cost of fixing the roof,
$7,285; parking in New York, $30. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the tune by
Graham Station on The History of Funk Volume 3. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: It was
October, 1988 when Beff and I went post-Platonic. That was in Woodside, in my cabin in the redwoods the
year I taught at Stanford. Later that week, we went to dinner with Ross (Bauer) and his woman-of-the-year
(also known as Beth) in San Francisco before a concert where Ross had a piece. After the usual chitchat
about the concert and rehearsals, Beff and I dropped the bombshell about our new post-Platonic
relationship. Ross spent the rest of dinner utterly silent, staring at his napkin. RECOMMENDATION/
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK copper showing
through a knothole. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why does popcorn pop? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Sun tea mixed with lemonade, various fruits, salmon. BIRDS HEARD
OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE the cormorant over the Assabet River.
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE
LAST WEEK: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE incapacitation, technique, five blades of grass, a toke.

The best news of the week is that Beff gets back tomorrow night; alas, showers and thunderstorms are
forecast, so I'm fully prepared to spend some serious carpet time in Logan Airport. Well, actually, I'm not.
But I will if I have to. Thankfully for me and for Beff, I sprang for an extra house cleaning today by The
Maids, and it smells like the antiseptic version of Lemon Pledge.
Yesterday I drove to New York City for Augustus Arnone's piano recital at Merkin Hall, meeting with
Brandeis alumna Ann Tanenbaum as part of the trip. Thinking I may be solicited to go out for a beer, I
called Marilyn Nonken to ask to stay on her couch, and she answered in the affirmative. So there was
plenty of aerobic walking in New York between events, and I spent quite a bit of time in Tower Records
waiting to meet Marilyn for dinner -- which was at Dan's Japanese just up the street, as you may have
gathered from the first paragraph. I also had the aluminum can of Kirin Ichiban, and it satisfied.
Augustus's recital had a surprisingly good turnout -- thankfully not the usual collection of musicians you
see at mod music concerts. He called the concert "20th Century Studies," and then blatantly played pieces
of mine from 2003 (Etudes Book VI). Probably not realizing that they were written in the 21st century, no
matter whose counting system you use. For once, my pieces started a concert, and I simply had fun. "Cell
Division" actually made me a little dizzy at times -- all that treble, all those competing arpeggios, UP and
down and UP and down -- and the tango was suitably sultry. After a good performance of the Carter Piano
Sonata, Marilyn and I discussed it, and neither of us likes any of Carter's piano music. Whereas I think I
like a lot more other Carter pieces than she does. The second half was the first book of Debussy etudes -Debussy's attempt at cocktail piano music, I guess -- and a big piece by Roberto Sierra. After the concert,
one woman told me she was a painter and "Cell Division" just made her want to go to her studio and paint.
I'm sure I speak for at least one composer when I say that composer(s) don't usually know what to do with
that sort of remark, except perhaps to smile (perchance to dream), nod, and say, "Cool" or "Thank you."
Then, in an extreme bout of esprit d'escalier, I(we) realize that these etudes are conceived somewhat
visually anyway, and saying they give someone else visual ideas is the highest form of compliment. Still,
I(we) say, "Cool" or "Thank you."
Before the etude set -- like 4 seconds before it -- a woman in front of us turned off her cell phone, not
realizing that that sound was going to be upcoming thematic material. Augustus smiled, thinking it was
done on purpose. And Don Hagar showed up, whom I haven't seen in some while (I once got a parking
ticket when I drove into Boston to give him a free lesson), and we promised an exchange of CDs. Ah, the
composer life. After the concert, Marilyn and I got a six of Saranac Black and Tan and demolished it while
watching a DVD of the Marine Band. The first thing she said after the clarinets stopped playing and the
camera lingered was, "Oh look -- I recognize that -- that's the 'counting face'."
Earlier in the week there were just things that had to get done. On Friday the roofers installed copper at the
joints of the two dormers, and they were immediately put to the test -- we had an obnoxious, windy, driving
rainstorm on Saturday. The attic stayed bone-dry, and the place that has leaked these last five years was also
as dry as can be -- which gives us one more pail to use as we see fit. Or fee sit. On Tuesday they came back
to do more work, including copperizing the bathroom outtake chimney and lining the sides of the chimneys
with lead, and today they are finishing the job, copperizing all the corners on the roof. Doug Raboin claims
the fixes will last 60-80 years (would one of the almost eleven volunteer to return here in 2065 to see if I
deserve my money back?). I got the walkthrough of all the work accomplished, and got to see some of the
old rotted wood that was replaced underneath the new copper. The coolest thing, until the copper oxidizes,
will be how bright and shiny the edges appear from the road -- especially when it is sunny. Cool. Thank
you.
Otherwise, I taught at NEC unimpeachably, and have but one more meeting and I'm done for the year, baby.
I had the chicken caesar wrap this time, and will probably end my sentence with Buffalo wings -- hey,
maybe I can persuade Beff to come along for the ride. (which I doubt, since she will want to be obsessive
and clean) Other things to do next week include the Yaddo benefit on Tuesday (anOTHer drive to New
York) and writing up the academic administrator's job description for the sake of a search. Oh yeah, and a
meeting to vote on the awards we give out at graduation.

Meanwhile, I had my brief meeting with the Dean on Wednesday, and then lunch with the President. Since
it was vacation week, the only real restaurant open on campus was the Stein, which became crowded and
noisy. The President said the point of the lunch was to make sure I wasn't still wanting to leave Brandeis. I
changed the subject. And we talked about pleasant, if mundane, things. He asked to be served four Buffalo
wings, but he didn't want the Buffalo sauce (so what he wanted was chicken tenders). I had the chicken
rosemary, which was nice, and poured some of "The President's Own" Buffalo wing sauce on my bed of
rice. After lunch was Shawna's performance review. And when I saw what I had done, I put it in a campus
envelope and went home.
I also had to sign a form for Seungah, who is surprisingly back in this area, and she asked to be added to the
long, long, long list of "if you hear of a job can you tell me about it?" people. I actually recommended her
for one in Illinois. I also got three more resumes from strangers asking for teaching for next year -- it's up to
almost twenty.
This morning I left at 6 am, and got home to Maynard about 9:35 -- construction in Worcester slowed me
down a bit. I had to make some small talk with the roofers (I used a 6-point font) and write a check for the
remaining work on the roof. I see now (2:50 pm) that they have finished and gone. Cool. Thank you. The
Maids came at about 11:45, so I had to clear out of the house, at which point I made more small talk with
the roofers ("it only takes 45 minutes for the whole house with five cleaners?"), and drove to the Sit 'n' Bull
for a beer. But I changed my mind, and drove straight to Quick Cuts on the corner of Routes 27 and 119 in
Acton, and got a haircut, stopped at Donelans and got grapes, blackberries, beer, pickles, and gourmet
tomatoes (some dwarf, some yellow/orange ones), and when I got back, the Maids were gone. Meanwhile, I
did laundry, including the sheets. And then remembered it was Friday. Here I am, almost eleven!
Geoffy was here for three nights, and we shared two meals -- Tuesday at the Quarterdeck and Wednesday
night I made chicken sandwiches. Wednesday was another wind-driven rain event, so Geoff suggested I get
some summer beers for dinner -- I got the mandarin hefeweizen and Sea Dog strawberry wheat. Which we
consumed with abandon as I put the iPod on the speakers and played through Volumes 2, 3, and 4 of The
History of Funk. All the while talking about how great, or emotional, or technically advanced the tracks
were. Did I mention the beer? Geoff also kindly brought me some programs from his gigs that included
ME. And the cats got used to him pretty quickly (I told him to shake a treat bag and say the word T-R-E-AT-S as a shortcut to that -- later he experimented with using the word at different speeds, pitch levels, and
consonant emphases).
But of course the cats continued to be spooked by the roofers. Much time spend in hiding, mostly under the
couch, but sometimes under the bed in the master bedroom.
And I now have a few more percussion instruments in my retinue -- a little bell tree, a ratchet with a crank,
and four finger cymbals (which might as well be called "the little cymbals with the big sound"). Musician's
Friend online is a great resource for cheap percussion stuff, though unexplainably, it doesn't know what
"almglocken" are. Cool. Thank you.
Pictures today include the strange surprise I witnessed when I entered the computer room on Tuesday, that
chimney installed, a surreptitious shot of the roofers at work, a shot of where the cats spent the day, the bell
tree, a sign encountered on a hike over Summer Hill, the now voluminous rhubarb, and the very beginnings
of blossoms on the apple tree.

Missing 5/6/05

MAY Friday the 13th. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless sausage patties and coffee.
Dinner was lemongrass chicken, Vietnamese hot and sour soup, and various Vietnamese appetizers. Lunch
was a grilled salmon sandwich. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 34.0 and 79.5.
LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days include parking in NYC, $22 including tip. MUSIC GOING

THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Amy playing "No Stranger to Our Planet." POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Driving back from Boston into New York with Arun -- who had
accompanied us to Boston to hear the premiere of Milton Babbitt's Transfigured Notes -- we approached
the George Washington Bridge, and instead of singing the William Schuman piece about it (it's hard to do
polychords with just three people), we started repeating the phrase "George Washington Bridge,
Washington Bridge, Where is the Fridge?" sung to the tune of the Beatles's "Buffalo Bill." With each repeat
being in a new, random key. Now every time Beff and I approach it in the car we launch into the same tune.
We are, if anything, predictable in this regard. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS WEEK 6. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK how to get to FDR Drive. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDRY: What does Thalia mean? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Pickles, hot
and sour soup, real limeade. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 1 -- well not
destroyed, but discombobulated -- the remote for the computer room air conditioner. INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a glass beaker
filled with mucous, a pebble with the New Testament lovingly carved into it, anybody's bald spot, half a
dozen of the other.
It will be June before there is another update to this page, so deal with it. On Monday I fly out to the
Atlantic Center, Amy D flies out at roughly the same time from NYC, and we land 6 minutes apart. Beff
gets there on Saturday, and I get to drive to the airport to pick her up. Fascinating.
So I'm just back from New York, again, and boy are my arms tired. It was a picturesque and sunny ride in,
and I used my usual route -- which seems more complicated when you explain it than when you drive it
(Great Road west to 495 south to 290 west to 90 west to 84 west to Hartford, catch 15 briefly to 91 south to
the Wilbur Cross Parkway which becomes the Merritt Parkway which becomes the Hutchinson Parkway,
exit left for Cross County Parkway, take to Saw Mill Parkway south which becomes Henry Hudson
Parkway, exit at 95th Street and find parking), and I found parking a half-block from the show -- that is, in
a garage. "Take Jazz Chords, Make Strange" was played by the Momenta Quartet with Jean Kopperud on a
League-ISCM concert in the Leonard Nimoy Thalia Theater of Symphony Space (say that fourteen
thousand times fast), and I took the opportunity to hang with some New Yorkers when not in thrall to the
dress rehearsal or to the performance.
So first I had lunch (see above) at a Charley O's bar, grill and bar (that's what the sign actually says), and
the $13 salmon sandwich was exquisite, if rather overpriced. Then after walking around a bit, I saw Daron
for about an hour and I had a Sam Adams draft while he had tea and Cheese Nips. It was very, very nice to
relax with him, as I haven't had that chance in a number of years now, and we talked about, among other
things, New Years Eve 1997 -- where we collectively made pizza for the VCCA types. Daron claims he was
plastered on that occasion, but my photographic evidence would seem to indicate otherwise. Okay, so then
there was my dress rehearsal, and the players were all very, very good. I didn't have to say much, though I
did catch myself saying "could that movement be more ... rustic?" By the end of the dress rehearsal, the
performance was hair-raising (except for the top of my head, where that isn't exactly possible), and most of
that made it into the performance.
After my dress rehearsal, I met Alvin Singleton -- who's been in Brooklyn recently -- for dinner at a
fantastic and cheap! Vietnamese restaurant that I'd never heard of -- the Saigon Grill, corner of 90th and
Amsterdam. No, not the Saigon Bar and Grill and Bar, just the Saigon Grill (must be old-style preCommunist cuisine. Isn't Saigon called Ho Chi Minh City now?). I got a nice hot and sour soup and a
lemongrass kind of grilled chicken thing that was very big, and only $8.95 -- Alvin got "C1" -- chicken
basil -- which looked so good that the person at the next table asked what it was and ran to the waiter to
change his order. Seeing as Alvin had roof work done more recently than I have, I paid.
And at this performance thing, I determined that I must have a face that easily contorts into what appears to
others to be confusion or desperation. When I saw Lisa Moore for the first time in years, just as I was
forming the words "Hey Lisa, how's it going" in my mouth, she said, "Lisa Moore." So instead, I said "I
know." This also happened with Margaret Brouwer and Shi-Hui Chen -- Margaret was at the Double
Exposure event in November, and I have no memory of her being there. Huh. It then started to occur to me
that there's a lot of stuff that happened between November and early March that I simply don't remember.

Must be those silly defense mechanisms. But anyway, there were six pieces on the concert and I was last -crap, no more leaving at intermission to make my long drive home. Every piece had something nice about
it, and I guess I liked Shu-Hui's piece best among those that were not by me (yes, almost eleven, I liked
mine better, but on the other hand I do know it a lot better). By the way, in order not to embarrass myself
again, I said "Hi Eleanor" to Eleanor Corey as she approached when she was still about ten feet away.
So yesterday afternoon a 50-foot high retaining wall collapsed onto the Henry Hudson Parkway, burying
some parked cars, and closing the entire roadway -- about two hours after I passed by, so it's not my fault, I
SWEAR. But that meant that to drive back I had to figure out an alternate route. I remembered the phrase
"Bruckner Expressway" from when Beff and I moved out of New York to Spencer back in 1990, so I
started asking people how to get to the Bruckner -- in 1990 in a rental truck, we went uptown to 125th and
drove crosstown to the east for what seemed like forever, missed the ramp, turned around (no small feat)
and got on it there. And there were as many different answers to how to get there as there were people I
asked. Crap. So I took a conflation of Mario's advice and someone elses: 96th across town to FDR Drive
north, and start following signs that say "to New England." Which I did, until I got tired of bigass trucks
being 80 percent of the traffic, and I exited for the Wilbur Cross Parkway when I could (in Bridgeport, I
believe). On the radio (which I blared to stay awake) they kept talking about the collapse on the Hudson
Parkway, a fire on a bridge the stopped NJ Transit and Amtrak trains from going between NYC and
Newark, and an execution in Connecticut that was mere hours -- no, minutes! -- away. I got home around 2
and next thing I knew Cammy was nuzzling me with that loud purr, it was light, and it was 6:30. Crap. Up I
got.
Our quest to consume as many consumables from the fridge as possible before Florida was foiled by a
concert at NEC on Tuesday night. Shen Wen was playing three etudes (12, 17, 50) on a "Composers
Concert" at NEC. Scott Wheeler also had a very nice piece on this concert, as did other people I didn't
know. So Beff and I drove in and parked and ate Japanese at Symphony Sushi (lots of eating out this week,
alas). The first half was quite long, and there were pieces whose program notes began with "Alas" and
"Perhaps". So we left at intermission -- which was actually rather late in the evening. So Beff and I started
drawing up rules for things not to do with program notes, and "Don't begin with "Alas" or "Perhaps".
Another note tried pretentiously to explain a piece's idea of continuity, which essentially boiled down to
"this is what music is." So now here are three simple rules: don't begin with "Alas"; don't begin with
"Perhaps"; and don't begin by defining music. Any other helpful suggestions from readers out there may be
collected into an actual page on this website.
And that's a big oh wow. We had Carolyn Davies over for beer and seafood (yet another restaurant visit),
and it was the most substantial conversation of the week. Not that the bar is set really high here. This
morning Carolyn mentioned something about last week's post here, and I had presumed she'd stay away
after asking what the audience for it was. I hope she's not hooked. Because "almost eleven" is a lot funnier
than "almost twelve." Plus, it rhymes with "seven" and "heaven."
Them what make have been telling us it's not too hot here, so Florida and the 80s -- well, that seems cool.
Or warm, actually. Thank you. As reported here before, Wednesday was to be 80, and then it was revised by
them what make downward to 66, then to 72. The actual high temperature: 80. The weekend was the icky
rain we've all come to know and laugh about, and during the quite warm bit, Beff finally got on the bicycle
train (to mix metaphors) -- we did the short ride on Tuesday, and Boon Lake on Wednesday. Yep, Max was
out waiting for a bone. We saw another nice house on Boon Lake, this one with plenty of indoor space, on
the market, and looked it up. I predicted three quarters of a mil (I often speak colloquially), and was
actually a little low. Wow, 2200 square feet and 160 feet of lake frontage. Priced for people who can only
afford it if they work so much they're never home to enjoy it. But am I bitter? Lick me and find out.
Beff is in Vermont, or driving back from Vermont as I type this. She is NOT going to the Atlantic Center at
the same time as me because she has to make an appearance at Maine All-State. So she's coming Saturday
night, and I'll have to drive to the Orlando Airport to pick up her. Then fun things will begin to happen.
Meanwhile, our Thankyou rewards cards came, and it's three credit-card sized Staples gift cards for $100,
$100 and $50, each of which has imprinted on it "Use Like Cash." Ciao, ragazzo.

And besides all of that. I now have to mow all the lawns, even though it's scruffy in front (kind of like me
in person). For you see, we will soon have housesitters and we don't want to make them do our yard work
for us. By the way, we bought two baby rosemary plants and planted them a few days ago where the hosta
used to be next to the garage. Time will tell (insert whatever you wish here). Ken and Hillary come for
pizza dinner on Sunday evening, as they are the OTHER housesitters. What fun we will have in a one-horse
open sleigh. Oh!
Fluoxetine hydrochloride dosage is now halved. I asked the doc to ramp it down before we go cold turkey,
since I got pretty good advice on what happens when you try to go cold turkey on such things (a hand with
an extended thumb pointing and gesturing downwards was part of the demonstration). Meanwhile, all the
other pills are still on the docket.
My drivers license expires on my birthday, which is June 13. I got something from the Mass DMV with a
form in it saying "don't mail the form. Take it to an RMV office", which for me means the half hour drive to
the tedious part of Framingham (it is splitting hairs to say one part is more tedious than another, but what
are you gonna do?), getting a number and waiting a long time while numbers not in sequence are called out.
I got my number, and saw someone surrendering his license, having a picture taken, being given a
temporary license and being told the new one would arrive in a week. So I thought about trying to board a
plane for Florida with a temporary license without a picture that might expire while I was there, and
decided to give it up -- at which point the magic phrase "OR YOU CAN RENEW YOUR LICENSE
ONLINE" leaped out at me from the literature the RMV had already sent me. Stoopid, stoopid, stoopid. So
I bought big Berkshire Beers (say that five times fast) and brought some to the Acting Chair and some to
She What Runs Everything And What It Is Too. And I don't mean Elaine Wong. I hardly ever do.
And there we have it. Many new pictures taken on the new Sony Cybershot T-1, as it fits in my shirt pocket
and all that. Beff even used it to make some movies for her current video project -- including the soup aisle
at Shaws. No panning in that one, just sort of a shaky still picture, as it were. Plus, Beff got myriad movies
of some oranges I got for her at Trader Joe's. First, in the bag, with Cammy being curious and sniffing
them, then with me rolling oranges along the dining room table -- again, with Cammy going after them. I
think if the camera captured our laughing we'd have enough for a laugh track for a half hour sitcom. We
then realized that Beff's camera could also take full-resolution -- if compressed -- movies. So, people will
be used, dogs and cats sleeping together, etc. When Beff said she wanted a movie of soup, I asked if she
needed me to roll soup cans, too.
Oh yeah -- Sharon Bielik's recital at Brandeis Saturday night. Even though she did Reger, she was fantastic.
A full recital and only three clams that I counted, and they were all in the Bach. They also did the Brahms F
minor, which is better on clarinet. Trust me.
Lots of pictures this week, since I'll be away from this space for some time. The T-1 has a fantastic closeup
mode in which you can get really, really close to something and the focus is nearly instantaneous (on the
Coolpix 4500 often it takes 5 seconds for the focus, which is then on a distant object instead of a close one),
and I took myriad shots. So we see closeups of apple blossoms and a dandelion seed thingie to start. Then
we see the two cats together, first in the attic, and then in the pantry window. We then have our people
pictures: Mike Gandolfi in Jordan Hall, Hayes in the Thalia Theater, Alvin in the Saigon Grill, and a picture
of me taken by Daronius. Then we see yet another shot of the copper highlighting the roof (this time from
the back yard) and a picture of the stage at the Thalia Theater -- you can tell it's used a lot for movie
screenings. Finally, extreme closeups of some geegaws from the kitchen window: a Pez dispenser and a
teeny little plastic cat that you are supposed to shoot out of a little plastic gun (which big Mike gave me).

JUNE 6. Breakfast this morning was coffee and Morningside Farms meatless breakfast patties. Dinner was
chicken and vegetable stir fry. Lunch was Lean Pocket pepperoni pizza. Breakfast yesterday was
nonexistent. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST THREE WEEKS 41.6 and 90.5 (Maynard) and
about 71 and 95 (New Smyrna Beach, Florida) LARGE EXPENSES this last three weeks include three

rides to and from Logan Airport, $299, and the rest of the cost of two new basement windows and two new
second floor storm windows, $512. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Crowded
House's "Always Take the Weather With You." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: "Lonnie"
was a worker in the office of the Stanford music department, and he left mid-year for a better job in San
Francisco. On his last day there was a party, and testimonials were given. As I shook his hand to bid him
well, he made some sort of sarcastic and vaguely insulting comment, to which I replied, smiling, "You have
no dick." The laughter in the office rang on for nearly 15 minutes, it seemed. No one got that I was
channeling Bill Murray from Ghostbusters. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK: St. Augustine. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDARY: How many puns can you REALLY make on "manatee"? RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Bubbies Pickles, hot sauce, Tobasco hot olives, ice tea mixed with
lemonade. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST THREE WEEKS at least one -a double-sided frame holding pictures of Beff and Martler at the Corn Palace and of Alvin, me and David
Keberle. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE a dead spider, two dead spiders, three dead spiders, four dead spiders. Four dead spiders make a
bunch (and so do many more).
Okay, so I (we) took the weather with me (us). Three weeks in Florida in the upper 80s and low 90s while
there was a stalled storm here keeping it damp, windy, and in the 40s. Boys and girls, can you say
"schadenfreude"? Yesterday we got back to Massachusetts to be greeted by 90 degree weather while I saw
75 as the temperature in Florida where we just left. Hence the Crowded House, above. But perhaps I am
getting a little ahead of myself.
Okay. So. Okay. I was in Florida for three weeks and I got paid too much money. Okay. So. Okay. There I
got to be called a Master Artist, along with the writer Jessica Hagedorn and the visual artist Jane
Hammond. And in a very loosely structured environment I was some sort of mentor (spelled L-I-K-E-A-GO-D) to eight composers, all of them rather good, and quite different from one another. So far, so good.
Amy D came along for the ride for the first week, and I actually imposed a structure: let's all write a
beginning of a piano piece (homework! I immediately got a reputation as a badass), we'll then talk about
them all after Amy plays them ... AND ... a different composer has to write what comes next. Hey, it was
the Walk A Mile In Someone Else's Shoes Thing, and as far as I know that never works. Except this time. It
was such a collegial bunch of composers, despite their aesthetic differences, that it worked, and there was
plenty to say about everything. If anything, this was a group that liked to talk.
After Amy left (she got bronchitis, scheduled and then cancelled a recital of tangos, and had to go to NYC
for recording sessions), it became less structured (which made me a goodass), and everyone presented their
work for the benefit and scrutiny of the others. This was, too, collegial, with only a few ill-tempered
outbursts -- never for ill-tempered reasons. Meanwhile, I did at least one hour-long private meeting with
each composer each week (I said not to call them "lessons" since several of the composers were now out in
the real world having actual careers -- one composer suggested "play dates," which became the norm, at
least in my head) in the remaining time. I calculated that between group and private meetings I met with
them 54 hours while there, which is probably not a record, but it IS a multiple of 3. It was only after I got
there that I realized I was expected to be doing my own work, too. Jessica spoke in the first week of having
a "breakthrough" in her new novel (at which time my sketches were still in the computer bag, folded in half
-- which made them six inches).
So this work thing presented a slight problem. There were more composers there than available working
pianos, and I had to yield my piano to Amy for practicing while she was there. But given the obscene
amount I was being paid (there were several actual obscenities on the check -- I lied, just the amount itself
was an obscenity), I didn't feel at all guilty about not doing my own work. Cool. Thank you. But once I
figured out that my piano trio was, in a way, about my cats, then the drama was pretty easy to figure out -the chords, not as easy. (the rhythm of purring is easy, the chords not so much so, especially when in
counterpoint to the petting of the cats, which has its own speed and harmony)
So let me backtrack a little. Actually, you don't have a choice, since I technically backtracked long before
you read this. So there, smarty pants. BEFORE I went off to Florida to take on the mantle of "Master
Artist," our Thank You Rewards from Citibank arrived -- two $100 Staples gift cards and a $50 gift card. I

believe this information was in the May 13 update. That weekend I looked at the Staples circular online,
and the color laser printer about which we'd been drooling was $200 off that week, and the Laser Jet (black
and white) 1012 was half price. So with our gift cards we went out and got ONE OF EACH -- meaning the
1012 laser printer was a hunnert bucks, and the color printer, once the gift cards were applied, was fitty
bucks. Amazement and shock. Awe, too. Both are still in boxes, unopened. But soon they will be in use,
Oscar, soon. The color LaserJet will be for home, and the 1012 a traveling (artist colony) printer.
And then there became an acting Chair. Yes, Doctor Keiler filled in for me while I was gone, though it
didn't seem as if there was a lot for him to do after commencement. Commencement! I missed the
department degree meeting where Honors are awarded and voted on! So I don't even know who graduated
with honors, etc. And the commencement itself was on the first of, I guess, six consecutive cold and rainy
days in this area (I was in Florida with a box of schedenfreude for all of my friends), at which people froze
almost literally. I might mention here that where I was it was 89, not too humid yet, with a forecast of
scattered lizards. I brought way too many socks and long pants, as stretch shorts and flip flops were my
preferred wardrobe milieu. And I hardly every get a chance to use that many vowels in a row. Neither did
Cardinal Richilieu. But anyway: I gladly renounced, for a short time, the Chairman cloak in favor of the
Master Artist one. The second one requires a nonrefundable deposit, which was okay because of all the
lizards. But of course I am not making sense.
On Monday the 16th (Milton Babbitt's 89th birthday, as if you cared) we got up early so I could catch a
limo to the airport for a noonish flight -- but at 7:30 Maynard Door and Window called to ask if it was okay
for our long-ordered storm windows and basement windows to be installed that day. Which was cool,
because the owner came over to instruct his workers, and I got to be all pompous-ass and reveal that I was
about to go to Florida for three weeks to "work." And the black town car pulled up while the windows were
being pulled out of the truck. And there I went.
I took Delta Song flight 2018 to Orlando, and Delta Song flight 2018 back -- since it's a cut rate airline,
they apparently save money by doubling up on flight numbers. I went on the 16th, Beff on the 21st, at
which time I picked her up using the morceau de merde Ford Focus that the Atlantic Center rented for me
(as I was, after all, a Master Artist). Delta Song gives you 24 channels of TV on monitors on the seat back
in front of you, as well as pay per view movies (including Beach Blanket Bingo -- you'd PAY to see
that???), pay games, and a trivia game that kept score of everyone in the plane playing. The old lady sitting
next to me did quite well, but the one game I played all the way through I was the winner, and had the
highest score for the whole trip. And just because I knew such useless facts as Coco Chanel's first name.
Amy and David Smooke (old friend, also a composer Associate) and I hooked up at the American baggage
claim in the airport and we figured out which one was Jessica Hagedorn -- the writer master artist -- and got
in a van driven by Jim Frost. I had a three-year history of e-mailing and talking on the phone to Jim, and
based on his job and his voice I pegged him for a Wally Cox type. Wrong, kimosabe. He looks more like
the crew chief than Underdog. And he flung all of our heavy suitcases way high over the back seat of the
van. Insert "heavy lifting" pun of your choice here.
On the first night all the Associates and Master Artists got together in the Commons for dinner,
introductions were made, I found all the composers I had accepted except for Del and Aaron, we set a
schedule, and introductions were made. That night and the next afternoon everyone and his grandma
presented something of their work (I played DVD movies of Amy playing Martler and Fists o' Fury), and it
was a wide swath of aesthetics represented indeed. I'm sure I liked just about everything, though
remembering 21 names was a bit much for me that night. To make matters more complicated, the
Associates started giving code names to each other, only a few of which stuck in my newly pea-sized brain:
Fabio for Felipe and Stu for Aaron, among the composers.
With Amy around the first week, I actually assigned homework (the whispering about that was vast and I
almost slipped on it once) -- write a piano miniature beginning. After Amy played through the beginnings
and we talked about what was there, I made them trade beginnings and assigned continuations which were
played the following Monday. The one started by Jenny and finished by Fabio ended up being the most
talked about, as its composers were from different ends of the aesthetic see-saw (here I insert the obvious
upcoming pun about how they balanced). Meanwhile, the composers were working on other things, too,

and needed pianos. Of which there weren't enough. So with a lot of harassment, Nick Conroy managed to
spread some pianos out over several buildings and people seemed to get LOTS of work done. Amy,
meanwhile, needed a piano, too, for her tango recording coming up, so she had my cottage when I wasn't
teaching in it. And teach I did, seeing two of the Associates four times each, and the others on average three
times each.
I was charged to do outreach twice -- once with Jessica at a gallery in New Smyrna Beach (the locals give
"Smyrna" three syllables, confirmed by the prosody in a jingle we heard on TV: "Suh Mirn Ah.") and once
with Jane at a private home with a lot of valuable art in it on a lake in Orlando. Otherwise the only times
we got out -- did I mention a lot of teaching? -- were a beach party at the home of Ines, a foray through the
Merrit Island Preserve, a dinner at a famed seafood restaurant near the beach, and an afternoon trip to St.
Augustine (founded 1565, they say). The Master Artist cottages were connected to the other buildings of
the Center by a long and occasionally slippery boardwalk, across which many lizards scurried as humans
approached. (the lizards were mating, so occasionally you'd see one stuck there bobbing his head as if
pumping his body, and his neck ballooning way out, and being red. Not for a minute did I ever wish I could
do that). Some were chameleon like, with bits of blue or red, and some were uglyass, like frogs. I made it
an obsession a few times to get pictures of some, and apparently I was one of the few who succeeded in
that task.
On weekends we had to fend for ourselves for meals, so the two Sundays included big composer parties at
my cottage -- Fabio made salmon (he didn't treat the "l" as silent) in the first one, and James made spaghetti
in the second one. Jessica's Associates also were at her cottage both of those times, so the parties
intermingled. And I learned more names.
So at the end there was the usual presentation of work for each other and for an invited general public they
called Inside Out -- as if the patrons were going to get to see my stomach and pancreas but not my belly
button or kneecaps -- and several composers had work to present: James's Night Music was played by Stu
and Beff, Stu (Aaron Einbond) played a couple of piano "microtures," and Suzanne played the Jenny-Fabio
piece. Various writers read parts of screenplays, plays and novels. I played a tape of a Violin Song. And
then we got to go to the visual artist studios to see what people had been working on. At the end of it all,
Jessica held the farewell party at her cottage, and Beff and I exited casually about three and three quarter
hours before we were slated to awaken. Much wine was had, especially as everyone brought their last
surviving alochol from the residencies. And we looked at the closets in the music and writer cottages,
which had been signed by most of the Master Artists who had passed through.
All in all, it was a very fun gig, I was still paid obscenely after giving Amy a quarter of my "honorarium,"
the weather was really humid (which I like) and occasionally rainy (which I don't like), the very different
composers seemed to have bonded rather nicely, and I got to use the bathroom whenever I wanted. All in all
a big success.
We set the alarm for 3:16 on Sunday morning, and left with Smooke at 4:15 for the airport. We were ready
in plenty of time, and I remarked that we could have slept all the way to 3:20. The flight was eventless, we
got back here around quarter to noon, and the lawns were very, very unmowed. After unpacking, I went out
and did all the lawns except the back yard -- that's an hour and twenty minutes -- and couldn't help noticing
that it was about 90 degrees outside (ironically, it was 75 in New Smyrna Beach at the time, according to
Earthlink) and sunny, sunny, sunny! All the windows were opened for air (especially the new two storm
windows), Beff cleaned the whole house, and the cats were slow to emerge from the attic. Since their
emergence, the cats have been very needy, following us everywhere and occasionally issuing long and
plaintive meows. Both of us have been heard to utter "What?" a lot in response. Ken and Hillary left a
family of five's worth of leftovers in the fridge, and I can't wait for them to take it back with them -- they
are coming over tonight for seafood, so they better not leave empty-handed. I believe they left a large bowl
of fava beans, which I have been snacking on liberally.
Already, Chair stuff has intruded, but I try to keep a straight face about it. I know who the next Chair is
going to be, but nearly no one else in the department does. I drove in to Brandeis for Chair stuff, and there
was very little of it. I spoke to the Fred C. Hecht Professor of Economics briefly, and came back. Now it's

blogging time, as we say in New Suhmyrna Beach.

This coming weekend is a multifaceted one: a concert of me in Princeton Friday night, Take Jazz Chords
Make Strange at the Chelsea (NYC) Art Museum on Saturday and then at the Dia:Beacon on Sunday.
Meanwhile, Beff has a performance in Manhattan on Sunday. And we drive back to Massachusetts on
Monday, which also happens to be my birthday (I am 329 dog years old that day, though I don't feel a day
over 328). And next Thursday I begin jury duty. Joy of all joys.
I'm sure that this week's readership will be almost nineteen -- regular readers plus the eight ACA
Associates, so I'll list their names here because it might actually give them a thrill: Suzanne Sorkin
(working on a piano trio, soon to move to Philadelphia), Jenny Olivia Johnson (writing a Pierrot plus
percussion piece, is at NYU), Aaron Einbond (writing a two percussion piece and piano microtures,
enrolled at UC Berkeley), David Smooke (in Chicago finally finishing his U Chicago dissertation), Felipe
Lara (writing an orchestra piece, hails from Brazil and enters NYU in the fall), Del Case (teaching at
Eastern Nazarene College and BC), James Wiznerowicz (writing clarinet and piano piece, starts on the
tenure track at VCU in the fall), and John Aylward (writing a piece for Wellesley, is enrolled at Brandeis).
The "here's you" thing I do with John became quite popular amongst the composers -- as did A Certain
Quietness and a few other things. Eventually we became quite the wacky bunch.
Today's picture collection is legion, as it represents highlights of three weeks. We being with ACA flora: a
passion flower closeup, and red lichen that was on some of the trees. Next, Amy in the van in the trip from
the airport, and Amy with David Smooke doing Kilroy. Then the composer cohort except Del at the first
group meal, and me with Jessica during the intermingled party which followed. Then, a lizard shot, and
shot of the "road tattoo" done by one of the Associates, Steed, in a road just outside the ACA. Next, a
circular we encountered on Sunset Drive, Fabio pouring Ines the "girly" Brazilian drink that would
eventually make him barfmachen, the seafood from the seafood dinner, the six of us eating the seafood
(shown: Aaron, James, Beff (hidden), Felipe, and David Smooke), a bunch of people sitting outdoors at the
seafood restaurant, two pics from St. Augustine, and a picture of the beach. Yowza.

JUNE 20. Breakfast this morning was Shaw's toaster waffles with real maple syrup, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner was grilled swordfish puttanesca with corn and salad. Lunch was Chunky Chicken soup and
blackberries. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 48.7 and 91.8. LARGE EXPENSES this
last are none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fiona Apple's "Red, Red, Red."
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, it was decided that I would play
in the second trombone section at the District Music Festival -- a high school festival in the BFA gym that
year. I kept my parts and got a reel-to-reel of the entire concert, and used to entertain myself by playing the
tape and playing along on the second trombone part. Which, now that I think of it, gives me an added sense
of my parents' tolerance for such things. That tolerance reached the breaking point in high school when I
wrote a pretentious piano piece that had a right-hand ostinato in parallel fifths and when I was practicing it,
my mother finally asked me to stop. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why did Ainsley have to
leave West Wing for CSI Miami? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Smuttynose hefeweizen,
Porino's antipasto salad (comes in a jar), homemade no-cook gazpacho. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED
BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but Cammy knocks Beff's glasses -- in their case -- onto the
floor at least once each morning. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE the length of your lips, two of that other thing, a can of lawnmower oil,
cheese from Amsterdam.
My special day (boithday, compleanno, anniversaire -- I am SO-O-O multilingual) last Monday ended with
Ken and Hillary arriving with a bag o' spices and a bag o' ribs. While Ken made a speecy spicy barbecue
sauce, from scratch -- even using honey -- we had a conversation about...well, I forget. Ken stuck two racks
of ribs on the upper racks of the grill, Hillary shucked and foiled some corn on the cob, and the grill got
started. Soon we lighted and took an OFF thingamabob out to the picnic table, where the OFF thingamabob
failed to deter even one mosquito from our area, brought out the corn, and ate it right then and there.
Meanwhile, grease fires ranged rampant on the grill, as the ribs dripped grease pretty liberally, and Ken and
I spent plenty of time blowing them out -- my lower brass training came quite a bit in handy there. And Ken

seemed to be able to blow pretty well, too, even though he was a guitarist, not a wind player. He blew in
short bursts, and I tended to actually get a note when I tried to blow. In any case -- we had to keep going
back to the grill to blow, blow, BLOW and eventually the ribs got a bit charred, and cooked much faster
than was the original forecast. So we served the ribs and Bubbies pickles in the dining room, and they were
magnificent. It was the LARGE jar of Bubbies pickles, and they disappeared in what seemed to be a
heartbeat. Ken kept mumbling that the ribs were burnt (at least I think that's what he was saying), but I
thought they were great. Later the combo of the ribs and the pickles gave me a nice long ride on the
porcelain pony.
And they even brought a 329th birthday present -- cheap plastic flamingoes, which we immediately
installed on the front lawn midst the hostas. They have to moved when the lawn is mowed (to use the
passive voice cheaply, but effectively), but that rings true for the hammock, Adirondack chairs and picnic
table, too, and they carry a similar value. Well, maybe a sentimental value. I made sure to put a picture of
them, below.
On Tuesday I had to go into Brandeis for real Chair stuff. Well, I lie. I didn't go in because I am Chair, but
because I am on the committee to hire a new academic administrator for the department. Which I am on
because I am Chair -- two degrees of separation. The weather had been hot and sticky and generally
unbearable for almost a week (going from the air conditioned bedroom to the bathroom at night through the
hall introduced a big jolt that was bound to resuscitate), but a back door cold from came through on
Tuesday while we were doing the interviews. There was, indeed, about a 35-degree temperature swing from
when we started the interviews (noonish) to when we finished (4ish). Lower 90s to upper 50s, for those
playing along at home. The interviews came down to two favorites and some haggling in the future, but
there are yet two more to interview this week. Oh joy. My favorite. After the interviews, Carolyn and I
rather dramatically imbibed some beer I gave her long ago (BF -- Before Florida), and I came home and
made dinner. Which was, I think, just a frozen pizza I stuck in the oven.
The weather has been stuck in early spring mode since that backdoor cold front. This global warming thing
sucks big ones. Them What Make, however, have routinely been off by about ten degrees each day in their
high temperature predictions. Tough weather pattern and all that. Wednesday's high was about 51(!), just a
day after Tuesday's 92. How 'bout that! Way too hot for a bike ride, and then way too cold for one. Them
what make had predicted 78 for yesterday, and it didn't make it past 63.
For those of you playing the Home Version of our game -- as of today, ten days left of the Heaven on Earth
I like to call My Chairmanship. Next week I will give the numbers in hours -- perhaps, if I am feeling
whimsical, in dog-hours. Incidentally, there was a time in this space when I mentioned that a job in Santa
Barbara may possibly offer an escape from my Heaven on Earth -- it was someone named Clarence Barlow
that they hired. In the meantime, I got a day-late-and-a-dollar-short e-mail from at least one administrator
thanking me for my Heaven on Earth. Rather than press the point, I responded "Thank you." I forgot to say
"Cool" first. But then again, I don't follow protocol with administration types.
The pollen count has been high. So sayeth the Them What Make page in a scrolling banner every day for
the last several weeks. Usually, that place is reserved for Special Weather Statements, like it may get cold
tonight or somebody saw a person standing next to a river get wet. But in this case, and in this area, it's
been somewhat like a scrolling banner stating that most people expect it to get dark tonight. When we
returned from Florida (that's in the southern United States in the Eastern Time Zone), I drew a Kilroy on the
trunk of Beff's car -- in the pollen which had accumulated in rather a thick blanket. In fact, the pollen is
everywhere -- on our bike rides through the Assabet train path, all the former puddles have yellow outlines
where water used to be, and every single leaf of every single tree in the area has yellow spots. Not from
malaria, but from clumped pollen (malaria would just be silly). I am accustomed to thick pollen at this time
of year, but this year is especially thick. In fact, on Tuesday morning before I went into Brandeis, the wind
was blowing and it looked like a sand storm in the stand of pine trees. Thankfully, I think the pollen is no
longer being manufactured anew in those volumes. Instead, the horseflies are now active on the Assabet
path.
We took our first giant step into being old this week. Beff had been to the eye doctor for a new prescription

because her eyes don't match -- one being nearsighted and one being farsighted (there is a joke there, but
I'm too tired to go and find it) -- and her new glasses were delivered this week. She looks positively
bookish wearing them (what really does "bookish" mean, anyway?), which she does to only to read in bed
and, occasionally, to drive. Meanwhile -- we are saving up our grocery shopping in $25 increments because
Shaw's is doing another one of those "spend $400 before June 30 and save 30 percent on a shopping trip in
July" promotional things (again), and whenever I have to go to get items for dinner, we naturally pad in
order to get another "$25" stamp on our envelope. So the padding items are normally things for which Beff
has clipped coupons. On Thursday while Beff was collecting coupons for me, she actually had me come
downstairs to read the expiration date for a coupon because "I can't read it without my glasses." That I can
do so without reading glasses, yet, just means I must be some sort of freak.
But even though we're old, we still dig Fiona Apple. About 20 million people, as far as I can tell, have
downloaded tracks from her upcoming, or is it?, album, and a friend sent us what he or she had managed to
find on the internet. Which makes us the twenty million first to have it. When the album comes out, we will
certainly buy it -- it's some of the finest, freshest pop music I've heard in quite a while (not that I'm setting
the bar ("I've heard in a while") very high), and it certainly tends toward compound meters a lot. Lemme
tell ya, when I dislike music, I really hate it, and when I like music, I like it a lot. So pardon my
effusiveness. Or bite me -- your choice.
It was too hot for bike rides, then too cold, then on Saturday it was just right. So we did the Boon Lake ride,
which includes me carrying dog bones for Max and other various and sundry dogs we encounter. This time
I brought the Sony camera and took a little movie of the two of us doing the Assabet rail bed part of the
ride, with Beff in front. Click on "Biking movie" at the top of this page to see that (it's a QuickTime
movie). It's not really all that interesting. I will work on getting a good movie of Sunny jumping, soccer
goalie style, to make up for that.
Most of the weekend was spent painting -- well, actually just a few hours both days. We scraped -- actually
BEFF scraped -- and I painted a bunch of windowsills and trim around the house, including the columns on
the front and back porches, and a bunch of the trim on the side porch, which REALLY needs a lot of
attention. Beff also repainted the top edges of two drawers in the kitchen where the cats like to scratch
while waiting to be fed. Both of us got plenty of latex paint on various parts of our hands and clothes
(including my baseball cap), and apparently I got some on my lower lip and two of my front teeth. Sorry, I
didn't take a picture. I guess I thought the Crest whitening strips would be just too slow. Rim shot. Okay, no
rim shot.
But hey -- there was mondo civic duty this week, as I had jury duty on Thursday. I had to drive to
Framingham, go through a security screening TWICE, wait around reading a book for three and a half
hours (after watching a seventeen minute video on being a juror in Massachusetts -- Margaret Marshall,
who spoke at Brandeis commencement, even though she is from South Africa, speaks with an accent that
makes you think South Boston a lot more than it makes you think South Africa -- learn your R's, Margaret),
and then being summoned with about 20 other prospective jurors into Courtroom 2. We were introduced to
the plaintiff, counsel and witnesses, the clerk drew seven names randomly, and mine was one of them. The
"PhD" on my juror information card didn't disqualify me (dammit), but one juror from the original seven
was challenged. And then there was a 3-hour trial (4 hours when lunch was included) with an assistant DA
as the litigator -- who, given the case the Commonwealth presented, could have passed for an intern. The
lawyer for the defendant could have passed for the guy who lulls you into buying too much insurance. And
the chief witness for the Commonwealth was a former music major from Clark. As the jokes about that
flew in the jury room, I kept my mouth shut (mostly). Suddenly, with none of the glamour of LA Law, the
trial was over, and the judge appointed me jury foreman. Wow, Chairman and Foreman at the same time.
Where was my hard hat? Intense discussions in the jury room -- slightly larger than a room needed to hold
a seminar table for exactly six people -- revealed that none of us thought the Commonwealth had proved its
case. So I got to be the one who responded "Not Guilty" to the clerk on both counts (see "I was Foreman"),
witnessed an emotional outburst by the plaintiff who didn't understand that the jury was just doing the facts,
ma'am, and I was home in time to make dinner.

Ten days to Chair Emeritus status, even though that rank doesn't officially exist. The new Chair is to be
Mary Ruth Ray, and I meet her this afternoon to give her the lowdown on being Chair. She insisted on the
3-year term, even though the Fred C. Hecht Professor of Economics only asked for one, so we are good to
go. Eleven months from now, she will be advising the Dean of her recommendation for my new salary.
Meanwhile -- soon I will be collecting paperwork to start the search for Yehudi's replacement. Believe me
when I say -- we have no idea who is going to get this job. One of my colleagues (a second violinist type,
we shall say for the sake of the example) asked if it was conceivable we might hire Osvaldo Golijov. To
which I responded why would he leave a situation with tenure where he doesn't have to teach for a position
without tenure where he actually has to teach -- and indeed has to be prepared to do all the sexy new
courses that brings the department into the present that nearly all my colleagues are too fat, lazy, old, or
some combination of two or three of those, to do? And why are my sentences so long?
Fluoxetine hydrochloride dosage is goin' DOWN! I'm down to 10 mg every other day, to cease in the fourth
or fifth day of my Chairmanship Emeritus status. I will have about two months' worth left over, for anyone
who wants them.
Thanks to double-five Jimmy Ricci, I have two new gmail accounts. I originally wanted them in order to
receive e-mail attachments larger than 10 megabytes. I have been burned in the past by Earthlink's
limitations. Each gmail account (ziodavino at and uncledavy at gmail) has a 2 gigabyte mailbox, and my email program looks there automatically. But now I see Earthlink has upgraded my mailbox to 100
megabytes. So I can get the big ones in any of those locations.
I did not report on my semi-yearly physical exam a week and a half ago. You should know that I didn't gain
weight in Florida even though I should have, that all vital signs are normal, and that the blood tests show
normal levels for everything. The prostate exam -- okay, the part where the doctor goes gerbil fishing -- was
characteristically embarrassing AND painful. So when I told some of my administrative colleagues that the
notion that "the academy does not appreciate that which it is that I do"was not pulled "out of my ass" (yes, I
said that) -- the doctor couldn't do that, either. Um, uh, rim shot. Uh, all he got was the glove that he was
already wearing.
After eleven months -- okay, ten and a half -- the Marines finally got it together to send me a rehearsal tape
(from last July 21) of the many-clarinetted arrangement of "Martian Counterpoint" that I did for them (it
was originally the fourth movement of "Ten of a Kind"). There were caveats from Jason, its conductor,
about it being a rehearsal, tempi, players, etc., but it is hot, hot, HOT. Not only have I written the hardest
band piece ever, I also have written the hardest 22-clarinet piece ever. I rule.
And Signal to Noise magazine's summer issue is about to come out. Indeed, it may already be out, I just
haven't seen it in stores yet (see Barnes and Noble, Tower Records, or Newbury Comics to find it). For you
see, there is a feature article about me written by Christian Carey in it. And I now have seen the opening
graphic for it online -- you, dear almost eleven (twelve?) may, too, by clicking on "S to N" above and to the
left of this text. Hard to believe that all 76 pictures of me taken for this came out so bad that just half of me
is showing on this one. I know what is in the text of the article already, so there won't be any surprise there.
Guess what -- somebody else thinks I have a sense of humor. Finally.
All of today's pictures were taken on Saturday -- now that I think of it, the only stretch longer than ten
minutes when the sun was out this week -- with the Sony T-1 camera (as was the Biking movie). We have
the new flamingi from Ken and Hillary followed by an EXTREME closeup of a carpenter ant on the canoe
(note all the pollen, and very old mold, in the cracks -- the stick in the picture is actually a pine needle).
Next we have Cammy preaching to the choir, and looking on the inside while Beff paints (feeling left out,
obviously). Then we have Sunny in the dining room window, and both cats chilling out on the back porch.
Next two more extreme closeups -- caked pollen on a leaf, and a really, really tiny flower hidden in the
grass. Then is the causeway on Boon Lake, from our bike ride, and Beff about to coast down that causeway.
Finally, we have a garbage/trash receptacle from Maynard (apparently they don't mean exactly the same
thing, hence the slashed terminology for those them what may be confused) and a closeup of Beff's thumb
after painting the drawers in the kitchen.

JUNE 27, mid afternoon. Lunch was two lowfat Hebrew National hot dogs. Breakfast this morning was
fresh-squeezed orange juice, coffee, and a bagel with lowfat cream cheese. Dinner/lunch yesterday was
corn on the cob with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray, and a few lean burgers off of the grill.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 50.4 and 96.8. LARGE EXPENSES this last week
include a duplexing copy machine, $300 after rebate; lots of Inko's ice tea and some spices from an Asian
foods online seller, $167; a citrus juicer and some silverware at Crate and Barrel, $42; four new place
settings, $129; books and CDs at amazon, $72. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
Fiona Apple's "Extraordinary Machine". (I am trying to determine if the second chord over flat-2 is a
French sixth or simply the Neapolitan with a flatted fifth) POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
My third year in graduate school, Joe Dubiel taught the composition pro-seminar, and to be different he
tried to do something that never, ever works: have students analyze each others' music. I remember John
Gibson writing a chord on the board for someone's piece and saying he thought the whole piece was based
on that chord. I did something similar with a piece by Jody Rockmaker, and graphed the piece in an A-B-AB-A form. Then I said, "and that makes it..." and I twiddled my lips with my finger to say ababa.... Years
later, Jody remembered this moment, but for some reason I didn't. On a separate occasion, Beff came home
after a grad seminar looking pooped and frustrated, saying "I can't get any empathy for my point of view." I
said, "I know exactly how you feel." THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why didn't I know about
Inko's tea before this? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Grant's Mandarin Hefeweizen, Porino's
olive antipasto, hamburger dill pickles, Bubbie's pickles, Inko's White Tea. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but Cammy obligingly knocked my glasses
off of the nightstand this morning. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A
WHILE: mockingbirds, veerys, Downy woodpeckers, Carolina wrens. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a pooper scooper, that which the
pooper scooper scoops, a fire hydrant painted green (or orange), the plastic wrap on an individually
wrapped slice of cheese.
HEAT WAVE! Actually, last week's temperatures overstated the low temperature for the week, which had
been 45.7 degrees last Monday morning, a full two degrees lower than what I reported. I apologize if any
lives were ruined because of it. But today is the third straight day where in Maynard the temps are above 90
degrees. The forecast for today is 82, and it is 90 as I type this: yesterday's forecast was 86, and it reached
97 (almost). Saturday (94) was predicted to be by far the hotter of the two weekend days. Them what make
had their usual level of accuracy. So because of the extreme temperatures in the afternoon, Beff and I have
been taking our bike rides in the morning, and I'm pleased to report that yesterday we embarked on our
longest programmed ride: the one that goes by the Minuteman Airport and through West Acton -- and has
two pretty considerable hills. Beff doesn't like hills. I like them in moderation. I am hoping soon to do the
nature preserve ride again, our second longest one, and with the biggest hill of all the programmed rides. If
there is a call for it, I will reprint the list of programmed rides and how long they are -- yesterday's ride was
about 14 miles.
Last Monday night, Dewek came over and took us to Korean in exchange for a meeting about the piece he
is about to write for BMOP. I'm pretty good at reducing compositional problems to the simplest description,
so after the long description of the quintet embedded within the orchestra as a soloist, banding of sound
around a cantus firmus, and heterophony in the orchestra, I said, "you mean you want it to suck." Actually, I
didn't say that. I said something more like something this ambitious will be great if it works, and still it
won't be appreciated by the culture at large. I am doing everything I can to precipitate that existential crisis.
Nonetheless, it seems to be a strikingly original idea, and in exchange for saying that I got the chicken
ginger dinner. I also didn't bring up that Derek never compensated me for covering for his Walnut Hill
classes in December, 2002 -- now I guess we're finally even.
There was a slow warmup through the week. And I went into the office twice (including this morning) to
help arrange the academic administrator's office, along with Shawna, Carolyn, and Big Mike. Beer was had
by all. Index cards dating to the early 60s and general exams dating to 1975 were among the many things
we discovered still taking up space. We filled 4 barrels with trash last week and 2 this morning, and sort of
gave up on what else to discard: that will be up to the new Academic Administrator. Oh yes, and I went in
on Thursday as well to do interviews for the academic administrator job. And also on the oh yes front, I

went in yet a separate time to give Mary Ruth her first lesson in what to expect as Chair. I did my duty to
defend our low-enrollment courses for the fall, did my usual lefty railing how calling a class with an
enrollment of less than 8 "low enrollment" violates the educational mission and turns Brandeis more into a
corporation, but it seems there was a subtext to that statement. Hmm, I wonder what it could have been.
And now, dear almost TWELVE (welcome, Carolyn), I am pleased to report that I become, officially,
Chairman Emeritus (actually, unofficially, since there is no such title) in 560 dog-hours from the time this
page is posted. And remember that a dog-hour passes in less than nine minutes (this must be why they like
bones so much).
I had been to Barnes and Noble in Shoppers World a few times to check if they had the summer issue of
Signal to Noise -- as there is a substantial article about me written by Christian Carey in it. On Friday Beff
and I decided to take a little trip to Harvard Square, incidentally looking for the magazine in Newbury
Comics and Tower Records, and, as it turned out, the Coop. I purchased multiple copies in Newbury
Comics and the Coop (as I have to give some out to various administrative and media people at Brandeis),
and Beff and I did the other stores and shops in the area, as well. At Crate & Barrel I saw a citrus juicer that
I knew I had to have (the stainless steel exterior must be what did it), along with an olive fork and some
porcelain spoons for hot and sour soup. Meanwhile, it occurred to me that I liked the three-tine forks we
have, and we probably needed some more. So we looked in the store and didn't find anything to our liking.
Then Beff got a red dress at a nice place near Crate and Barrel, and we walked slowly up Mass. Ave.
towards Porter Square (we had driven to Alewife and parked). Meanwhile, Beff took some movies of
urban/traffic in Harvard Square and on Mass. Ave. to use in her next video project. I thought they looked
nice. Up Mass. Ave. we stopped in the Vintage store and didn't find anything to buy. Then we stopped in
Porter Exchange, I got a few powdered soups and some dim sum at the Japanese grocery store, and saw
Yoko (Nakatani!) there. She is moving to Attleboro for the summer. And Beff and I ate at a Japanese
restaurant in the little restaurant cluster, where I ordered ice tea on a whim. We got "Inko's" white tea, and
both thought it was marvelous. So marvelous that when we got back, I ordered about 80 of them online -after which I discovered that Shaw's sells them, too (so I got all 8 that they had). Anyway, we made it back.
Beff found flatware that we both liked online, and we ordered it.
On Wednesday we drove into Northampton to see David Sanford at the Northampton Brewery -- we do this
at least once a year. Because we like him, and we like hearing stories about marching bands and the
Pittsburgh Collective, etc. We always like to do the shops in Northampton (because it is such a small
shopping area), and I even happened to see Fred Lerdahl and Louise Litterick in one of them, from a
distance. They are a very domestic couple. And I bought a chef's hat. Because I will be a celebrity chef,
once again (Chair Emeritus, dontcha know) at the September 20 School of the Arts barbecue. Then there
was the beer and (of course) some wings at the brewery, ice cream at Harrell's, as usual, and back we went,
on the northern route (Route 2).
Saturday I got another one of those insatiable cravings for wings, so I called Big Mike to see if he wanted
to do lunch -- as I kind of have to take him out to a meal for doing our cats on short notice every once in a
while. I got Sweaty Betty wheat beer (dunno who makes it), and Beff got Old Speckled Hen, and Big Mike
got a tuna melt (what he always gets) and a triple chocolate cake (he must have known I was paying). By
the way, we always do lunch at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. In case you were playing along at home.
Yesterday (HOTTEST DAY IN TWO YEARS! PROTECT YOUR SKIN! PROTECT YOUR CHILDREN!
FOR GODS SAKE DON'T PANIC!) Sam and Laurie came over for what was to be a bagel brunch with us
and them and Ken and Hillary. I had thought it was to be Monday, and so did Ken and Hillary, so it was just
the four of us. We didn't start until 2, so I got stuff for an outdoor barbecue, and that's what we had,
dagnabbit. That, and beer. And Inko's Tea.
Today, back into Brandeis. Took some Signal to Noises to Brandeis. Did some more cleaning out. Looked
at how much paperwork I'll have to do for the junior search coming up. And when we tired, I went home.
Big Mike actually brought a microwave meal with him. And I brought the bagels that Sam and Laurie had
brought but we didn't eat because we were doing a cookout.

And this morning it occurred to me that we needed to finish dealing with our technology needs before I go
on half salary (that starts Friday -- a perk of being on unpaid leave in the spring). So I looked on the Staples
page for a copyer that could do double-sided copying, AND which had auto-feed. And there was one at
$200 off. So we ran for it. Tomorrow it is supposed to arrive, or I'll be a matey with which you can swab
the deck.
Tomorrow Beff takes the Camry in to have the brakes checked. I had driven the Camry to Northampton,
and was dissatisfied with the way the car shimmied and the car made noise when I braked at high speed.
Wednesday, weather permitting, Carolyn comes over for a very early morning canoe ride on the Assabet.
And Friday we drive to Burlington, Vermont, taking the scenic route -- Route 100, which I try to do every
year, and which we never got a chance to do last year. We get back Monday, the 4th (I hope nobody else
with a car has the same idea).
There is also a feature in Signal to Noise about a funky improv group called "Erroneous Funk". Which
wouldn't have interested me so much except that the woman in the group, Renee Coulombe, studied
composition with me at Columbia in 1989-90. She is now a brunette instead of a blonde, has had her
doctorate only two fewer years than I have, and teaches in Riverside. I put a link to her web page on Home
of this page. Meanwhile, I also added a link to Rick Carrick's page. And I opened my eighth allotted
Earthlink account and got 10 megs more of web space to put a few more tunes up there. You have to hunt
around for a link to that page, which is not on this page. I have made and compressed two cat movies:
Sunny jumping after stuff, and Cammy batting at some dripping water in the bathtub. And I made a movie
of the bike ride downhill on the Boon Lake causeway (twice I tried to give a sense of the view). Click on
the links to the left to see those movies.
Meanwhile, a mere eight pictures this week. A picture of the Signal to Noise article (buy it yourself, don't
ask for a free copy) and this morning's fresh squeezed orange juice, fresh out of the new appliance. Next,
Beff and David Sanford, and something I don't even know how to describe, in Cambridge. Then Sam with
beer and Laurie with hammock and Georgia. Then there's me in new chef's hat, with spatula, and a better
picture of the lawn flamingi that Ken and Hillary gave us -- the Sony camera made them too light, and the
Coolpix 4500 gave color that was truer. Also, it was sunnier.

JULY 5. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast patties with nonfat cheese,
orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was salad and mozzarella balls that were marinated in oil and
basil. Lunch was, for me, the Zesty Chicken sandwich at Applebee's in Keene, New Hampshire.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 52.5 and 90.3. LARGE EXPENSES this last week
include stuff at amazon for Beff, amount unknown, and some songs purchased from iTunes, $7.92. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Valerie" by Steve Winwood. In fact, it's been going
through my head a lot since I happened by it on MTV2, and I'm going to use the chorus in my soon-to-belegendary "teach-in" next month -- it emphasizes scale degree 6 in the verse, returns to it in the chorus, then
eases to scale degree 7 as an ornamentation of scale degree 6, and wails, finally, on the tonic three times at
agogic accents: and each time, the harmonization is vi, meaning non-completion. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: when she was in high school and getting an allowance, my sister
routinely sent me to Lester's to pick up candy for her. My fee was always a nickel, and at the time, a nickel
bought a candy bar or a popsicle, or five tootsie rolls. My quandary was what to do with my nickel. I was
enough of a regular there that eventually they let me buy cigarettes for my mother (always Pall Malls).
Who quit in 1967, by the way. The other quandary was whether to stay on the streets (Lakeview Ave. and
Messenger Street) or take the shortcuts through peoples's yards. This quandary no longer happened after the
time I was bitten by a dog while I was doing the shortcut. The dog's owner blamed me. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDARY: Is there a post-chairmanship depression? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Bubbies pickles, hamburger dill pickles, sugar free popsicles, olive antipasto. FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS
WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: pileated woodpeckers, blue jays(!). INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a popsicle stick,
next year's fashion, a headless body in a topless bar, some snot.

CHAIR AND CHAIR ALIKE. The Oh Happy Day news of the week (of the whole year, and, perhaps,
decade) is that as I type this, I am not the Chair of the Music Department. For the next couple of months I
play a purely advisory role, letting Mary Ruth in on all the minutiae of Chairmanship that my predecessor
failed to clue me in on. There's still stuff I haven't told her -- like the inspired mess that is our graduate
composition seminar structure and the disagreements between the Dean and the composition faculty on
how they should work (don't get me staaahted...). But you see, I am already thinking too deeply of this
stuff, and that is devoutly not to be wished. There is actually one Chair duty left to me, and that is a
meeting of the four creative arts chairs (theater, music, fine arts, creative writing) tomorrow to discuss new
titles for non-tenure track faculty, and I agreed to participate, since this meeting was supposed to happen in
May. As Fred Flinstone was known to say, Ugh. Chairmanship Emeritus status for me also means that from
here on I will refer to the Dean by name (which is Adam). You may have noted that on "Home" of this
page, where I come from we "don't bear grudges".
DE-PILL-A-TORY I'm going for the Gannett Newspaper all-caps pun headlines at the start of each
paragraph, just as an experiment. Almost twelve, I am sure you are nearly as bored with the device as I am.
Nonetheless, I shall press forward. Today, I took a fluoxetine hydrochloride, and that will be the last one.
The box has been retired. Meanwhile, on Saturday night a CNN report said that doctors have been warned
that antidepressants -- rather in opposition to what they are for -- can cause or augment suicidal tendencies.
I am here to report, without giving specific examples, that the people warning the doctors are correct.
Fluoxetine hydrochloride, get thee away from me. I would make a little cross with my index fingers (I am
quite fluent with dramatic but pointless physical gestures), but it would mean I couldn't type.
CLOSE TO YOU That one's a New England expression, I am told: when it's humid, the locals say it's
"close". And it's close now, even down in the Glenn. Our wild and wacky weather has continued, with a
nice and comfortable dry spell coming just in time for our trip to Vermont. Of which we shall hear soon.
Meanwhile, it may be close, but it's been almost bone-dry in terms of precipitation -- despite the drizzle in
which we departed on Friday. The level of the Assabet is going down, and little brown spots appear on the
back lawns. Coolness is forecast for later in the week -- as soon as tomorrow.
ROWING VS. WADING In the last throes of my Chairmanship, I excused Carolyn from work on
Wednesday morning so that she could come out here and all three of us indulge ourselves in rural sports.
Beff walked the Assabet rail trail, parallel to the Assabet River, while Carolyn and I canoed it. And the
night before, to prepare, Beff and I hauled the canoe into the back yard, got all real medieval with Formula
409 on its ass, and scrubbed it heartily with scrubber sponges -- so it looked much nicer. Beff's side got a
little cleaner than my side, something she was only too eager to point out. I did not remind her that it was
not a competition, because I wanted her to experience the joy of winning something pointless. Next week:
she finishes a beer before I do.
CATS'LL REPORT And the cats have been quite needy since we returned, last night, from Vermont. As
Martler will recall, Cammy likes to follow you until you seem to linger a moment, then plop himself down
on the floor. He has been doing that in many, many locations today, as has Sunny. Meanwhile, Beff thought
their parallel naps near the porch last week was worth a photo. You will see it below. Justin and Melissa,
who housesat over the weekend, seem to have gotten along with them just fine (they also ate all the sweet
potato potato chips -- in case you ever needed to see an actual sentence with the word "potato" twice
consecutively). Beff also cracked open a new Trader Joe's cat scratcher for them and seeded it with catnip -Sunny, in particular, went crazy for it.
PULLED BY THE ROUTES Our drive to Vermont took us up Route 100, which is a very scenic stretch
going through the spine of the Green Mountains -- if, indeed, mountain ranges can be said to have
backbones. I like to try to drive the stretch between Route 9 in the south up to Waterbury in the north at
least once a year, and last year we didn't get around to it (I was too busy waking up early with panic attacks
about what it was going to be like to be Chair). So it was quite a welcome drive; it progressed from drizzly
to hazy sun during the drive, and we stopped at the bigass country store, as we always do (free rest rooms).
You can still buy slot hockey games there ($105) and Rock 'em Sock 'em robots. If I had bought either, I'd
REALLY be having that midlife crisis. We stopped around 1:30 in Waterbury for lunch, and the brew pub
we seemed to remember was not yet open: so we proceeded a few doors down to WATERBURY WINGS.

Which had just what you would think they would have. I got hot (which were a LEETUL hot for me, but I
made it), and Beff didn't get wings at all. We also tried beers by Shedd Mountain and Otter Creek on tap,
which were just dandy. Vermont's a good place to find beers -- almost as good a place for that as it is to find
New Yorkers.
SALLY FOURTH And then was the arrival at Beff's dad's camp on Lake Champlain in the north of
Burlington. Up there, summer-only homes are called "camps" (not because of the kind of drama they
prefer), and it is just a few hops (no skips -- too many sharp rocks) from the camp down to the actual lake,
where there is a beach shared by many of the locals. Twice during the weekend (Saturday and Sunday),
Beff and Ann (la soeur de Beff) and Jack (le fils d'Ann) spent substantial time on the beach and in the
water. Beff got more color than I did (she brought an extra tint button), but we got equally wet (you don't
want to know how we measured -- or why). Meantime, we got to participate in the local area's yearly
Fourth rituals, including a 4th of July parade (which was on the morning of the 2nd) and a tennis
tournament (of which Jack won the kid's division). A nice weather front came through Friday night
producing much wind but no precipitation at a pot luck at a local house, after which the temps actually got
into the 40s at night. Beff and I had to deal with a "camp" type bed. At first we did not use any covers, but
when it started to cool down, Beff said, "would you like some sheet?" I was transported back to the drug
dealers from Argentina during my undergraduate years. Actually, it so amused me that I was actually
lacking a comeback.
BIKE'LL ROW THE BOAT Ann has stored her high school-era bicycle at the camp, and their brother Matt
has left one of his there, so it was possible to take long bike rides on the nearby rail trail, paved and
converted from a railway that once connected Burlington to the north and to the island. On Saturday and
Sunday we got even more sun by taking the bikes out first to the left (Saturday) and then to the right
(Sunday). On Saturday we went toward the causeway of the section that crossed the bay to the islands, but
didn't make it all the way owing to bugs and a guy with a kid ahead of us on a very narrow stretch. All that
time, I took pix and movies -- so many that the 512meg card filled up: later I also filled a 256 meg card. My
urgent need to document knows no bounds. Since I had Ann's old bike, it had the old style seat apparently
made of granite. After an hour and a half on it on Saturday, I had a butt-ache. And I made no secret of it. So
before we stepped off on Sunday, Beff asked me, "How's your butt?" This time I had a generic comebacker:
"If I had a nickel for every time somebody asked me THAT...."
FIRE IN THE SKY A true highlight of the weekend was the actual Fourth of July fireworks in downtown
Burlington, and we actually managed to get an excellent viewing point. I had never had such an
unobstructed view of fireworks before, and these went on and on and on and on.... Like the chamber music
of Dvorak, there were a lot of short volleys that fizzled, several volleys that promised the climax and didn't
deliver, and FINALLY -- when some people were actually starting to leave -- was the climax. I took lots of
pictures and even some movies -- hence filling up the 256 meg card. We drove back during the day on
Monday after the kid's division of the tennis tournament was over, ate at Applebee's in Keene, and, well,
there you have it. I checked my phone messages while driving through Randolph, Vermont, and there was a
message from David Russell wondering how to get a part for Hyperblue. I made several calls saying
essentially that it's hand copied and only the publisher has those. And then he left a message saying all was
well. Awww.
COPYING A PLEA The copy machine made by Sharp and purchased at Staples about which I reported last
week was defective. After we got back, I had to make some copies of a score so I could send it back to
Michael Lipsey. And every copy was very light on the top fourth or third or so. Surprisingly, on the fourth
of July, someone was at Sharp technical support, and after a bunch of experiments that only he knew about
(press copy/tint/copy/tint, enter 13, press copy, for instance) he determined it was just a faulty printer. So I
called Staples to see if they had any more for an exchange, and they directed me to the Natick store. Where
I went this morning to make the exchange, and YES! the new one works fine. Or at least it seems to. While
in that area, I got more cat litter, cheese, mocha drinks, and stuff at BJs, some CryBaby tears from a
vending machine at Best Buy, and the new Get Fuzzy and Fox Trot collections. Anyway, I am pleased to
report that both Sharp and Staples passed the test with flying colors (what would "frying" colors be? brown
and white?).

THE SHAW'S SHOP REDEMPTION Persistence and lots of purchase of impulse items or items intended
for far in the future paid off today. Over the month of June we spent $500 at Shaws, in various increments
of $25, and were entitled to 20 percent off one shopping trip between the 1st and 10th of July. So we got
$220 in groceries -- including all the Original flavor Inko's ice tea they had -- and got $44 off. I shudder to
think what our hourly wage for all that shopping thus works out to.
THE GRILL OF A LIFETIME We finally opened the portable Sunbeam grill that Ann got us as a present in
order to assemble it and bring it to the Adirondacks next week (where we will be wid' Hayes and Susan,
proud owners of a new Red Pearl Corolla), and after doing a bunch of assembling, realized four very major
pieces were missing. I called the tech support number and reported same, and they sent out the missing
pieces -- I hope they are the right noes -- which arrived while we were away. After this is posted, we try to
see if we can finish the assembly. I am skeptical, since last year I got a Sunbeam air conditioner whose
temperature knob was broken when I opened it, and the replacement knob sent was the wrong size.
Actually -- Sunbeam has not had a good track record here.
WATERSHIP DOWNLOAD After lingering on MTV2 while it played the old video for Steve Winwood's
"Valerie" from the 80s, I kind of realized that the chorus had a structure I could use to teach; and I looked
for the song at Strawberries in Acton, which had no Steve Winwood CDs at all -- and this dude doesn't
appear on any of the 80s compilations, either. So I actually created an iTunes account and downloaded it.
Yes, I entered the downloading era with not only a splash but a belly-flop. iTunes is enabling the next stage
of my midlife crisis, since I then went back to it and downloaded more stuff -- after which I listened to it on
the hammock. Other tunes downloaded include Our House, Owner of a Lonely Heart, You're Still The One,
a Bruce Hornsby tune, and Sinister Minister by Bela Fleck. After the two of us happened by the new Gwen
Stefani video for Hollaback Girl, Beff couldn't get the tune out of her head ("tune" here is kind of relative)
-- we even heard it on the radio as we traversed the most rural portion of Vermont. Upon our return, I
downloaded it -- alas the version I got is sanitized. But I intend to use it in class in the fall, someway,
somehow. 'Cause you always gotta use something current in order to live up to an e-mail address like
"TheCoolOne". Boy, it's been a long time since using "Borderline" made me cool...
IT'S NOT HOW LONG IT IS, IT'S WHAT YOU DO WITH IT As implied last week, I have the mileage
statistics for our customary bike rides, which will now be a yearly feature of this spot. And here it goes:
West Concord 10.5 miles
West Concord back way via Gropius 10 miles
West Acton with cutoff 9 miles
West Acton without cutoff 9.75 miles
Boon Lake circle 10.3 miles
Boon Lake doubling back 9.8 miles
Boon Lake via 27 11.1 miles
Boon Lake roundabout on 62 12.6 miles
West Acton via Minuteman Airport 11.5 miles
Nature viewing area -- 11 miles
Arboretum via back way 12.6 miles
Baby ride by Shaws 5.6 miles
We haven't done the Arboretum ride in some while because we both hate all the traffic on Route 27
between K-Mart and the arboretum. But some day....
THE WAR OF BLOG Lou Bunk -- a Brandeis ABD -- is now one of the composer bloggers on the
Sequenza 21 web page, and he is doing his best to be wacky. It's actually refreshing to read, instead of
"Carter IS TOO one of the great living composers, you nimrod!", things like "Chocolate. Mmmm." In his
initial post, Lou said he'd told Derek Hurst of his upcoming blog, and he reported Derek's response
imprecisely. Lou left open the question "why do we blog?" to which many responded, including Derek
appearing to clear his name by pointing out how severely unnuanced was Lou's report. It was very
entertaining, and I kept wondering if everyone participating was trying to win something. For I do not
know how these things actually work.
THE FUTURE'S SO BRIGHT I GOTTA WAREBROOK. Upcoming events include dinner in Brookline

with the Ceelys tonight (always an entertaining proposition -- as Bob Ceely makes me look shy and
reserved), a trip to the Warebrook Festival in northern Vermont over the weekend (where a big swath of the
history of Brandeis will also be), and several days in the Adirondacks next week with Hayes and Susan. We
will be on Adirondack Lake. What an original name.
CONCERTO DE CAMERA So we have two QuickTime movies this week, with links to the left of this text
block: Sunny cat scratcher shows Sunny a little high on catnip, and Malletts Bay Causeway shows a little
bit of the bike ride along the bike path north of Burlington. Remember how much my butt was hurting at
the time, and you will be ever glad. We have eight pictures below. Lazing kitties followed by one of the
fireworks from Sunday night in Burlington. Then we have Friday's and then Saturday's sunset from the lake
near the camp. We follow that with the parade we saw (it was over in a few minutes), and Beff at
WATERBURY WINGS. Finally, Angel Falls on Route 100 and me at WATERBURY WINGS (I knew the
camera was pointed at me).

JULY 10. Breakfast this morning was coffee in Coventry, Vermont, at Greg Djanikian's summer home.
Dinner last night was pepperoni pizza and UFO on tap, followed four and a half hours later by salad with
Italian dressing. Lunch was two cheeseburges with fried onions at Warner's Snack Bar in St. Albans,
Vermont. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 53.6 and 87.6. LARGE EXPENSES this last
week include lots of Inkos teas and other various foods, about fifty bucks, and every time I filled my gas
tank. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Hollaback Girl," Gwen Stefani.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: when I was about 8 and the family was camping, I was
trout fishing with my father near Island Pond, Vermont. Three times he hooked a big fish, and then handed
me the pole nonchalantly, saying, "I'm not having any luck. You try it." And of course I immediately pulled
in a fish. For many years I thought I had done the good fishing that day. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: Does the melody still linger on? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olive
antipasto (still), jalapeno-stuffed olives, fried onions, small tomatoes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK
Franconia Notch in New Hampshire. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST
WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: pileated
woodpeckers in Vermont, white throated sparrow, Eastern wood peewee. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an early version of Wordstar
software, three junk bonds, a piece of toilet paper recently unstuck from someone's heel, the number "5".
I have just driven back from the Warebrook Music Festival in northern Vermont, where my Hyperblue was
performed, where I made a side trip to Warner's (where I worked in high school), and where it was
Brandeis Old Home Week. I have just now finished mowing the way back lawn, wearing a black t-shirt
while it's 89 degrees out, and Beff and I visit Hayes and Susan on Adirondack Lake in the vicinity of the
village of Indian Lake in upstate New York starting tomorrow. There is no time for a proper update today,
but I will be back in another week for a full two-week report.
Meanwhile, be sated with two pictures I took at Warebrook: Jay Eckardt and Marilyn Nonken, and me with
Greg Djanikian (a poet who teaches at Penn whom I have overlapped with at Yaddo all four of my times
there). THERE ARE ALSO LITTLE MOVIES this week, including a brief view of Franconia Notch in
New Hampshire as I drove through it, a car accident I passed on Route 93, and Marilyn Nonken nevously
posing for a picture, not knowing I was just making a movie (see titles in yellow text on left, below).
JULY 16. Breakfast this morning was Boca meatless breakfast sausages, lemonade, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner was chicken kebabs and appetizers, etc. at Bombay Club in Harvard Square. Lunch was
olive antipasto. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 61.2 and 90.0 (in Maynard). LARGE
EXPENSES this last week are some books at the Harvard Coop, $80 or so; bug masks, $16; chart of
mushroom species, $6; dinner at the Bombay Club $75 for two; drinks afterwards $20 for two; West Wing
seasons 1 and 4, $90. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Do It To Me One More
Time", which I presume was The Captain and Tenille. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in
graduate school, Jody Rockmaker and I made up a song making fun of Walter Piston's Harmony textbook
(not yet updated by Mark DeVoto) by changing the words of Tom Lehrer's "National Brotherhood Week."
And it kinda went like this: "Oh the 3 chord/Goes to the 6 chord/And the 6 chord/goes to the 4 chord/And
the 4 chord goes to the 5 chord/And it all goes back to 1/We're doin'/Piston's Harmony/Piston's Harmony/It

only takes a chord or 2 to find another key, so/Come on and modulate/Don't you think that it's just
great/Anyone can do it/Any time." COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY RECENTLY include Staples, Cuisinart, asiafoods.com, Earthlink, Sharp Electronics.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME this week
include Inko's White Tea. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What do salamanders do in the forest?
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto (still), marinated shish kebabs, hamburger dill
pickles, and, as always, Inko's White Tea. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Various stuff deep within the
Adirondacks. MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN THIS WEEK: $30 for a Cuisinart citrus juicer. FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS
WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: include a pair of common loons, ducks, a seagull, and
hawks. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE a blank CD-R, a raging case of adolescent acne, two pieces of moldy bread, a sewer grate.
This is an update covering nearly two weeks of events, so be patient with me, almost twelve. As y'all know,
I went to the Warebrook Music Festival last weekend because HYPERBLUE was performed on the third of
the four concerts. From Monday to Friday Beff and I were visiting Hayes 'n' Susan at their summer cottage
rental on Adirondack Lake in the town of Indian Lake, New York. And besides all of that, there was even a
meeting at Brandeis to report in this last twelve-day period. So let's get down to brass tacks (or with them).
After the return from Vermont, there were lawns to mow, cats to feed, laundry to do, etc., and do that we
did. On Wednesday I sat in on a meeting with the Dean, a member of the creative writing department, and,
by phone, the Chairs of Fine Arts and of Theater. The subject was something to do with contract faculty
(non-tenure track), and it was that rare meeting where something actually got done. Later, I encountered
our new Chair, and met with her 45 minutes to go over more stuff about being Chair, and other various and
extremely tedious Brandeis details that somebody has to think about and I'm glad it is no longer I who has
to think about them.
Meanwhile, Beff and I went our separate ways a week ago Friday. Beff went to Bangor in order to start
moving back into our house there and to meet with some faculty and students. I went to Newport, Vermont
in order to go to 3 of the 4 concerts of the Warebrook Music Festival. I took the only route I knew: up 93
through New Hampshire to 89 to 91 in Vermont. I stayed in a hotel on Route 5 to the east of Newport with
"Pearl" in the name (I'm terrible with names, as some of you almost 12 may have found out), which was
also where Yehudi Wyner, Susan Davenny Wyner, Marty Boykan, Susan Schwalb, and Allen Anderson
were staying. And, lo and behold, there we all were at dinner on Friday night at the hotel. Dinner was
delicious, but I had to leave a little early. David Cleary was also in town for the festival, was staying at the
Super 8, had no car, and found me in my hotel room to ask for a ride to the first event.
So we rode together to the first concert, in the town hall of Irasburg, Vermont. It was a typical meetin' hall
type building, with a stage and fairly large room on the second level, and a large room attached to kitchentype stuff on street level -- this is where the reception was held. There was an upright piano available for
the concert -- one on which you could actually hear each note going out of tune as it was played -- and it
did wonders for, for instance, Curtis Hughes's piece "Avoidance Tactics No. 1". As far as I could tell, the
performance of that piece was pretty good, even though the lack of harmonic change in the second half of
the piece kind of annoyed me. All in all, of the three concerts I attended this was the least interesting
musically, though the performances were obviously very good. There was an existing string quartet who
played a piece of unmitigated vomitous crap by a local composer that was notable because the cellist
looked a lot like my brother. I imagined what it would be like if he also talked like my brother and had the
same vomitous crap taste in music, but I didn't get a chance to test my theory. For you see, he was very
good.
As anyone from Brandeis knows, Sara Doncaster runs the Warebrook Festival, which is a buttload of work
all year round, and she came up to me about fourteen times per minute to ask, "are you enjoying it so far?"
After a while I wanted to change my answer just for the sake of variety -- or say something that was a non
sequitur (like "why not ask a moose?") but I knew that would precipitate further discussion. So I said yes
every time. Most certainly the music was very well-performed.

On Saturday the remnants of tropical storm what's-her-name passed through New England quite slowly, so
downpours were the rule in the morning. And this is the time I had pre-chosen to visit my hometown of St.
Albans -- only about 55 miles to the west of Newport, but on twisty roads that go through at least two
mountain passes, so the drive time was an hour and 25 minutes each way. First I visited Greenwood
Cemetary for the first time in about 20 years, where I got some pictures of my parents' gravestones -- in the
pouring rain. This was followed by a trip downtown, where I got a portable blacklight (I can actually use it
to verify that new $20 bills are genuine!) and four more prisms for the kitchen window. Then to the local
supermarket to see if any new gastronomic obsessions were pending, and I did get a few things to try out
(including a jar of jalapeno-stuffed olives for Justin Rust). Then I had lunch at Warner's Snack Bar, where I
had worked in the summer of 1976. Of course the proprietors, Paul and Jackie are still doin' it (running the
snack bar, that is), and they gave me another free t-shirt. Then I drove back in yet more driving rain (so to
speak).
The afternoon concert was at the memorial library in Newport, and it was very, very good -- pieces by
Allen Anderson and Marty Boykan in particular were fantastic. A local Mamlok scholar had unearthed
early sketches from Ursula's student days for violin and piano, and these received their premiere: they
really belonged securely back in the sketchbook and out of sight. Spencer Schedler, a grad student at NYU
I knew, actually popped into town for this concert (he was accepted to Brandeis but chose NYU in order to
be closer to his now-former fiancee, who was studying at Peabody at the time). And the performances were
fantastic. Before the concert, there was a reception/lunch at a health food store two doors down from the
library, and I went in looking for the crew -- I had gotten Max a cheeseburger from Warner's, and didn't
know I'd be presenting it to him in the context of a health food store. There I sat for a little while shooting
the breeze with festival people. And afterwards, Jay and Marilyn and I went back to try some various
things. And then I drove to Shaw's to see what they had, and I got 15 bottles of Inko's White Tea, which
was on special. Love that stuff.
The evening concert was at the high school in a very nice hall with a very nice piano, and it was preceded
by brief talks by Sara (her big dissertation piece was the second half of the concert), me, and the Mamlok
scholar (again, I am bad with names -- Wiener sticks in my memory but I am trying to get it out). The
Mamlok talk was a pre-written paper that was read out loud much as seventh grade book reports are read in
class -- I was glad to hear a bit of Ursula's history, and her sextet of 1976 was on this concert. It actually is
a great piece, and in the talk she was described as being "at the height of her creative powers" when she
wrote it. I started lusting after an accolyte to write about whenever it is, was, or will be, that I am at the
"height of my creative powers", and hoped that that time was in the future and not in the past. Back on
topic, I was thinking that for the student pieces, Ursula was at the depth of her creative powers. Rim shot.
So the concert was actually quite fantastic, Hyperblue was done quite well, and I got to know David Fulmer
-- who played violin -- a little. He is in the Rolf Schulte mode of extremely expressive with the body
moving in all directions as he plays -- occasionally getting up out of his chair to make dramatic gestures for
the benefit of the ensemble. Only two places where the trio got off, but hey, there's a million notes in the
piece. As far as I can tell. And Sara's piece was about a half hour setting of 12 Yeats poems, it had
expression, a sweep, and a point, and it was quite refreshing. Always nice to hear Brandeis music that
doesn't sound like Brandeis music ("like most of my recent pieces, this one is atypical").
Dinner was actually paid for at the East Side Restaurant in Newport afterwards, and there we all were. I
bought Max two beers, brought him and Leslie to their car afterwards, and then went home and to sleep. In
the morning, back to Maynard where we had to get ready for our next big trip, to the Adirondacks. Mowing
the way back lawn in the 89 degree sunny weather is a byotch. But I diddit, I diddit.
Early Monday morning we packed up and drove all the way to Indian Lake: 117 west to 495 south to 290
west to Mass Turnpike to 87 north to 9 north to 28 west to Adirondack Lake Road. We stopped for lunch in
Warrensburg, which is where you get off 87 to the two-lane roads. And I had rather good Buffalo wings -an idea that came to me when a 125-year old woman already in the restaurant was having some. The TV in
the restaurant was playing ESPN2 "target games" -- lots of shooting at targets and at skeets. Surreality
ruled.

Upon making it to the ranch-type 2-bedroom cottage on Adirondack Lake, we watched Hayes and Susan
eat, then drove around just a bit. We took a short hike into the woods nearby, and the deerflies were pretty
annoying. Muy annoying. That night Susan and I cooked chicken for lunch on an old, rusty grill on the
porch. And we methodically went through some boutique beers that Beff and I had picked up in Groton.
And we watched episode 12 of Wonderfalls. Then went to sleep on our crunchy bed.
On Tuesday we began by driving to the Lake Store and getting those bug nets that you wear over your
head; we already have four of them, but neglected to bring any along. What we got here were bug nets with
a pair of metal hoops on the inside, not unlike wearing hoopskirts on our necks. And when we moved to our
first substantial hike, we were all very glad to have them. That night we ate at a restaurant in Indian Lake,
where our waiter had an eastern European accent, and then decided that the food was the opposite of
delicious. Afterwards, the final episode of Wonderfalls. Several of us, especially Susan, kept referencing
various tchotchke lines from Wonderfalls, especially "lick the light switch."
Wednesday was the most active of the days: a substantial hike with a steep incline at the end; a visit to the
Adirondack museum (an old rustic summer hotel converted to house large exhibits on canoeing, horses,
birds, furniture, etc.); and the purchase of a book by a local artist about a chipmunk. We spent some time
giving chopped walnuts to a local tame chipmunk that Susan named "Chippy". And then there was sitting
around the dock, where the flies liked me and nobody else but me.
Thursday began with a huge and windy thunderstorm: our planned even bigger hike had to be scrapped.
After the storm was over, we drove to North Creek, where we got some various tourist things, and then
Beff and I rowboated on the lake a little -- this is where we saw loons in a pair. Upon our return, I made the
shishkebabs, and what it is, too. Friday morning we left at 8, got back here at 12:30, and had a LOT to do to
get ready for the next phase: Beff's two week stint at the U Maine summer music camp. She leaves
probably before I post this today. Last night we drove to Alewife and parked, walked from Porter Square to
Harvard Square, went into various stores, and had dinner with Lee Hyla and his wife Kate. Much was
discussed, including Lee's upcoming stint, October 2006, as Master Artist at the Atlantic Center. Pictures
were shown, people were used. And then we drove home.
The Cuisinart citrus juicer that I had purchased at Crate & Barrel on June 24 was being used again to make
lemonade and limeade -- as it's what we do. And halfway through the third lemon it simply stopped
working, as if the motor burned out. When we first got it, I made orange juice and the lemonade and
limeade, etc., and Beff burned the box -- in order not to clutter the attic even more. Which meant that I
couldn't return it (while veins on my forehead were bulging, I hastily made a new house rule that we don't
burn appliance boxes any more before their warranties expire). Which was fine, I guess -- it kind of sucked,
anyway. If you pressed on it enough to get juice from your average lime, it just tended to stop rotating.
Who needs that? Beff looked online for juicers and found a whole bunch, and bookmarked them. It was
amusing that the first one she bookmarked was a professional juicer for only $7200. We still haven't
decided what our next choice will be, but it sure was hell on my right wrist pulperizing limes after the
Cuisinart broke.
And the not exactly covered in glory stuff? Well, they've been fun. The Inko's White Tea we had at Cho
Cho's restaurant in Porter Square was so good we found it online and their webpage directed me to
asiafoods.com. When no progress was made on this simple order, I contacted customer service to ask if
there was a projected ship date: there was no response. So I cancelled the order, which you have to do via
e-mail. Also no response. Meanwhile, the Sharp photocopy saga with Staples has been entertaining, as well.
On July 5 I tried to make copies and the top third of each page was very light. A call to Sharp got me a very
nice tech guy, who led me through many steps to see what might be wrong, and the conclusion was: bad.
Take in for refund or exchange. So I called the Acton Staples, who had no more in stock; but they nicely
directed me to the Staples in Framingham, which had one for me. So I drove there and exchanged it, and
upon returning had an e-mail from StaplesEasyRebates: you returned your rebate item, so we
CANCELLED your rebate. A long call to Staples assured me that the exchange was incorrectly entered into
their computer and the rebate was reinstated. This Thursday another e-mail: your rebate was CANCELLED
because there was no UPC enclosed. Uh ... um ... so yet another call to Staples got the rebate reinstated, and
I got a confirming e-mail telling me to expect it within 10 to 15 days. I'll believe it when I see it.

We checked e-mail a couple of times in Indian Lake, but since there is no local dialup access number, I had
to look up Earthlink's 800 access number. A bunch of recursive pages on the Earthlink website failed to
point out even one toll-free access number: they simply said there were no local access numbers in Indian
Lake, and I could find a toll-free access number ... somewheres ... So I called Customer Service. Who said
"I can't give you that number. But here's the number of the office that can. They won't open for 45
minutes." Uh, boys and girls, can you say Earthlink get your act together? Meanwhile, I got boilerplated
not once, not twice, but three times by Earthlink for having dared look for an 800 access number online.
With lots of helpful text about how to keep Earthlink if you move and how to configure your modem, etc.
But cancelling all that out was Inko's Teas. The stuff is great (we have about 40 of them in the house right
now, and I told Justin when he was housesitting he could eat anything in the house except the Inko's), and
the company is new and very small. I had written in this space about how great they were, and one of the
co-owners, Googling Inko's, came upon my page, e-mailed me, asked where I was buying the stuff, and
offered to send some free tea AND A T-SHIRT my way. Now that's classy. So let me evangelize for Inko's:
it's great, the company is great and small (like all things), and now I really have to go to the bathroom.
This week's movies are up there to the left in yellow text, as before. The little movie of Marilyn Nonken
posing for a picture was so popular that I left it up there for another week. The "Rain" movie is of the
thunderstorm we experienced Thursday morning, and the "Deer" movie is a singing deer at the outside
place we went for lunch on Wednesday (I have mercifully excised the sound). As to pictures, they are
legion, so bear with me. The first three are of people at the Warebrook festival, including Jay Eckardt (who
did not take the redeye), Leslie and Max and Tim and Jay at the health food store, and Jay licking Marilyn
Nonken. The covered bridge shot is on the way to Greg Djanikian's summer place in Coventry. Next,
Adirondack shots: forest mushrooms, the other of our cohort on a hike, Beff reading on the dock, and a
cumulus cloud at sunset. Next, two displays from the Adirondack museum. Next, my parents' grave
markers. Finally, a lake view from the Adirondack museum followed by a panorama from the peak of what
we climbed on Wednesday.

JULY 25. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausage patties with melted
2% cheese, fresh squeezed orange juic, and coffee. Dinner was a Smart Ones shrimp marinara microwave
dinner. Lunch was two Hebrew National lowfat hot dogs. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST
WEEK 57.4 and 93.7. LARGE EXPENSES this last week includes a new high-end iMac with extra
memory, Apple Care, and iPod speakers, $2324.83 from J&R including shipping; and the third volume of
complete Peanuts together with the new Pat Metheny album from amazon, $29. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "My Airplane" by that 60s English group that had the one hit
about Snoopy and the Red Baron -- the tune is a total ripoff of "Octopus's Garden". POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in 1988 as director of Alea II at Stanford, I hired Lyn Reyna to premiere
E-Machines. Since I wrote it outdoors and stayed slavishly close to my sequence of all-combinatorial
hexachords, I had presumed it was crap, if funny crap. At the dress rehearsal when I heard it for the first
time, I marveled that it sounded REALLY COOL, that Lyn played the doody out of it, and that people
would probably want to hang out with me after having heard that piece. When the piece got to the last
gestures -- competing type A hexachords, the first high and the last low -- I realized that I forgot to change
the clef to bass clef for the last gesture -- strange and odd especially considering the last attack is marked
"with fist" on notes with 5 and 6 leger lines. Lyn played exactly what was on the page, and it sounded SO
WRONG. I quickly put in the missing clef, and sat there as Lyn relearned the ending. And I became really
cool again. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY include
Sunbeam/Blue Rhino. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN
SOME this week include Inko's White Tea, again, and Arthur Marc's hot sauces. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: What relationship does pruning have to actual prunes? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto (still), Inko's White Tea with key lime juice, wickles (spicy pickles), spicy
olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The "notch" that gave Franconia Notch its name. MONEY DOWN
THE DRAIN THIS WEEK: a nickel in a Maynard parking meter and no meter maid came by. FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS
WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: dark-eyed juncos. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD

BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a Mad Lib filled in for the third time, a fancy
schmancy appliance for turning crappy stuff into neat stuff, a gentle breeze, a pair of tweezers with a tick
impaled on them.
The most important event of the week (nine days, actually) is related to an impending calamity: the
Windows computer that I use to do e-mail, noise-reduce performance recordings, and maintain this website
is slowly melting down. Since Thursday, during startup it has gone to a blue screen to say one of my disks
has to be checked, and when I let it run CHKDSK everything checks out, and then on restart I get a black
screen saying "Bad boot disk, please insert a system disk." I have managed to get the computer to start up
by skipping over the CHKDSK that it wants to do each time, but occasionally at random times the blue
screen comes back, suddenly, with a message "Windows has terminated to avoid damage being done to
your computer" or something like that. The most comical thing that has happened (and enervating, since I
hardly ever get to use that word) was that on Thursday night I retrieved 7 e-mails -- none of them spam
(maybe for the first time ever), and the blue screen shut down came up as I tried to read them. On
restarting, my Earthlink mailbox no longer had an Inbox. I experimented by sending myself an email,
retrieving, and seeing where it would go: it went ... um, nowhere. As if one of those Jetsons sucking sounds
had happened. While continuing to experiment, I accidentally retrieved a new e-mail to ... limbo ... and
have no idea who it was from. So a few people I was going to respond to now are getting no response, since
I have no record of the original e-mail, and therefore no e-mail addresses. As I recall, two of the
disappeared emails were from Rick Moody, one from Jan Krzywicki, one from one of the almost twelve
(with the same initials as Rhode Island) re:Total Eclipse, one labeled "conversation with admissions", and
two others I don't remember. So somebody is going to be really mad at me or Brandeis or both for me not
getting back to him/her.
So in conclusion: Ross Perot's Giant Sucking Sound (GSS for short) was not because of NAFTA. It was the
current version of my Earthlink mailbox.
So I have been a firsthand witness to how much a computer can take over your life when something goes
wrong with it. I did try all the utilities I've got on hand, but of course they seem to need to access system
code that's on a bad block. So Norton Utilities bombs, and the "unbootable startup disk" fixing utility that
HP sent me didn't do the job, either (it did 3 years ago when I had my first problems). The Norton I own is
able to make fixit discs on floppies, as long as you bring it to another computer. So I actually went to 3
locations in Maynard to find floppy discs -- which I haven't bought in about 4 years -- and only The Paper
Store has them. Beff has made the emergency discs on our computer in Bangor, and in a week when she is
back, I will get to try an emergency fix. Ah, but today I am spelling it "ficks."
So obviously the most intense time I spent this week had to do with Windows. And -- thanks a lot, HP -- my
computer didn't even come with any Windows installation discs. How odd to purchase an operating system
and not actually have one. But I digress. I look forward to a ficks.
In the meantime. Beff has been in Maine for the two-week summer music camp at the University. So she
has moved back into our second house, and secured help from some of her colleagues to repair stuff that
went askew in the year leave.
In the meantime, I had planned to drive to Vermont on Sunday (yesterday) to do my yearly biergetrinken
with the Director of the US Marine Band (formerly Assistant Director), because that was to be combined
with a trip to the Yellow Barn Festival where Soozie and Curt were doing Violin Songs. I checked the
Yellow Barn webpage to see whether the concert was in Putney or Amherst, and found out two things: it
was in Putney at 11:30 am(!) and the program included Schoenberg and Brahms. I think Soozie had left me
a message on my cell phone that went something like "........rk....... ..... ... d ......... .. . . .......... p .... . . ........
sk ............ . .. .. a .........." and I thought it was one of my grad students doing the juvenile phone thing, until
I realized Soozie had e-mailed Beff that she couldn't get a cell phone signal. In Amherst! I emailed Soozie
and she emailed back that the pianist wanted to do Brahms on that concert, he teaches at Yale, so I got
shoved off the concert. And the festival director was sposta tell me. It didn't happen. So to Seth Knopp: bite
me, it's fun. This gave me the weekend free.

Meanwhile, Beff had her weekend freed up, too, because the people she'd planned to see -- because of my
trip -- also cancelled. So as a real treat, Beff drove here for Saturday lunch through Sunday morning. So on
Saturday, after the weather had suddenly cleared (in terms of humidity, that is), we wanted to go to a place
to sit outdoors. We tried the pub next to the Quarterdeck, but the only available table had no umbrella -- and
Beff and I are the whitest people on our block (or sunblock -- but I digress). So we walked further, to the
Blue Coyote Grill, where we sat in the only shady part of their deck. And the table was very high compared
to the chairs -- the table was at chest level and it was just like eating out of a high chair. So of course we
had to milk the irony by having beers on tap (Long Trail Ale, Sam Adams Summer, Sierra Nevada). And we
also did calamari (surprisingly good -- better than the Quarterdeck's), I had the veggie wrap (portabello
mushrooms bleed gray) and Beff the lettuce wrap. We did TWO bike rides (Boon Lake, and the Cemetary
loop), Beff made the place look less like a bachelor pad, we had breakfast, and she went back to Maine.
And dinner was chicken sandwiches, which is normal.
So without an event to go to on Sunday, I called the Lieutenant Colonel at all his possible numbers to
reschedule -- even a voice mail where he identifies himself as "Major." That one was so stale it actually
smelled. And he got one of them, so we rescheduled for Thursday. That was my Fun Day.
The cats got me up at 5 on Thursday, I fed them, dealt with the Windows meltdown, and got sulla via at
about 5:50. I decided to try the Route 93 route through Franconia Notch to St. Johnsbury to Newport and
then through the gorgeous mountain passes in Jay to get there. I stopped for gas and breakfast, and later, to
bring Inkos tea from Shaws Newport. From 10:50 to 1:00 we had our four beers each along with lunch
(makeyerown sammiches), and I brought my entire percussion collection: train whistle, siren whistle, two
vibraslaps, flexitone, four finger cymbals, two maracas, ratchet. And I brought the Dyna Mike. Usually
both of the kids make voluminous noise with the instruments, but it was only Jack, going solo, and mostly
heterophonic. I successfully predicted the exact moment at which Jack would start playing the instruments
through the Dyna Mike. And I gave a copy of the Signal to Noise magazine to the family, who showed me a
one page feature on the Lieutenant Colonel in the Washingtonian Magazine. He actually had to respond to
questions like "Favorite Composer" (Sousa and John Williams -- he insists the original question was
"favorite march composer" and I said I always thought of John Williams as an April composer -- rim shot)
and "Favorite Patriotic Holiday" (July 4, duh -- are there any others? Nancy suggested he should have said
Bastille Day). Then for 2 hours it was just shooting the breeze in deck chairs, looking out at the lake, and
noting the peals of childish laughter coming from Jack and Claire, who were now in the lake.
Winifred -- the Corgi -- was of course glad to see me (he forgot to put a gun in his pocket), but seemed
quite reserved most of the rest of the time. He must be getting old, with those little sticks of legs, etc. And
at 3 I embarked on my way back home, this time trying my usual route -- to 89 in St. Albans, catching 93 in
Concord, etc. -- and I made sure to stop at Food Town (or whatever it is called) in the old railroad yards in
St. Albans because they had Wickles that caught my fancy, and a very good olive antipasto. As I entered the
Route 89 ramp, I called Ross. And we talked until Waterbury. The route via St. Albans is a half hour faster,
so it will continue to be my route. Though DAMN, Franconia Notch is gorgeous.
Work-related stuff happened, as I met with the Dean on Wednesday morning to get the ball rolling on our
search to replace Yehudi. The committee is more or less formed, there are forms I have to fill out, but
meanwhile I got authorization to advertise it. Deadline is October 1. And I started e-mailing my contacts at
various doctoral programs to spread the word. We still need an outside person for the committee and a
Diversity Rep (whose main task it is to certify that the applicant pool is diverse), but thankfully we have the
authorization to go ahead. And then my favorite part -- talk with an Associate Dean about the money we
can spend on the search. By the way, the search is for an Assistant Professor, tenure track, doctorate
required. Spread the woid.
And on top of that, I started AND finished a piece, which turned out pretty hot, hot, HOT. I had casually
told Mick Rudy (my name for Rick Moody this week -- I don't know why, either) in e-mail that I would
soon be on the hunt for new etude ideas, and he said all he had was do something with Tower of Power
licks. I said there were copyright issues on that, but that there were enough licks that were part of the basic
language of funk (I hate myself when I talk this way) that I could probably set up a funk etude with them.
And so I did. I beat the six-day requirement by one day, and sent the piece to my Hot Pianist Spam List,

along with the MIDI. And of course the piece is dedicated to Mick Rudy AND it is listed on this website.
Two more and I've got another whole book, and that will make Peters glad. This etude was #68, meaning
that, owing to the laws of cardinality and ordinality, the next one will be #69. I have an e-mail from Ken
Ueno offering to commission #69 with various requirements, including it be a crab canon, be
retrogradeable and loopable, and include a quote from "I Touch Myself." I've always dreaded what would
happen when I did number 69, and now I know. Oh yeah -- and the title of #68 references both the first and
last episodes of Sex and the City: Absofunkinlutely. Though I must say, this piece had the most working
titles of any etude, almost all of them already used by funk groups in the 1970s. My current laugh line is
that you have to grow sideburns to play the piece. Except that it's not actually funny. So to call it a laugh
line is an exaggeration.
Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it. Birds in the backyard have been doin' it big time in the last
several days. Normally we get birdsong from an hour before sunrise to an hour after it, followed by
quietude, but lately the sounds of aviary seduction have kept the entire day tweetful. Birds in pairs
(naturally) have been witnessed flying from tree to tree, using what I presume is their "let's make eggs"
songs followed by the "oh baby, you're so BIG" song. It seems to be rather a complicated affair, as I haven't
seen or heard the "don't expect me to do any of the housework or put on good clothes for company" song
yet. Last year at this time we had a nest next to the air conditioner in the guest room with loud babies (but
not oh babies), but this year we have not put an air conditioner in that window. So we are missing that part
of the fun of our existence.
And it was so hot and steamy for most of the week that I had to use the Klavinova in the air conditioned
master bedroom to compose on. Normally I prefer the actual piano, out of tune as it may be, because I'm
one of those tactile composers (it's true -- I have a membership card and everything). So now I am waiting
to hear if I am going to have to write a brief and weird piece for a Philadelphia group for December 2. It's
going through channels (like anyone with a good remote and basic cable does), and if I have to do it (it
would be way fun) I'll report it here. Otherwise, it's back to the piano trio about our cats.
The humidity finally abated on Thursday. Then it came back. And abated on Saturday. Whoo, I'm dizzy.
And now there are Heat Index warnings for tomorrow -- hey, in Maryland we routinely got head indices of
120, so this puny 100 heat index wont phase me. Though I noticed that the flexitone is rusting simply from
standing still in the dining room, which DOESN'T have air conditioning. In the drier periods I got to mow
the lawns and do some pruning of the bushes the edge the way back yard. I also pruned the hostas that were
hanging over the front walk -- I hate excess foliage. And in spare time I started wondering about my
favorite dam. Now Barry and his dad -- owners of the dog Samson -- have died or moved along, as their
house is now sold. It's become clear that Barry had a hobby of keeping the path to the dam clear, since now
it is overgrown. with bushes starting to crowd out even the "Where Stacy and Joe Sat" big stone hunks
where it's always been fun to stand. It looks like my next project is to clear another path: I got there
yesterday afternoon by inventing a back way through the woods.
This week's movies (yellow text on the left, up there) include part of my drive northwards through
Franconia Notch, a pan of the dam, and evidence of Cammy's reaction when he hears me utter the word
"Treats!" This week's pictures begin with me and the Lieutenant Colonel relaxing with Winnie, and Winnie
herself. Then, a sign at the Canterbury (New Hampshire) rest area that seems to think that "no" can be
treated ironically, and the notch that must give Franconia Notch its name (not bad for a pic taken BY THE
DRIVER from a moving car). Then, a mushroom encountered in the woods on the way to the dam, the cats
looking out the dining room window in the morning (the screen was pushed up), Beff at her high chair at
the Blue Coyote, and a bunch of change we encountered on the way home that had melted into the tar (we
tried pulling it up, but it was stuck real good, and imagined there must have been someone from America's
Funniest Home Videos nearby).

AUGUST 1 -- revisions and additional text AUGUST 2. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms
meatless breakfast sausage patties with melted 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner/lunch was
Davy-pizza, a cheeseburger, maybe a hot dog, and plenty of hot sauce. And beer. Lunch today was snacky
chicken cooked in its twenty-third hour of marinade. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK

54.7 and 95.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include payment to the vet, $188, payment to an
emergency animal hospital in Acton, $288, Toast Titanium upgrade $99 (minus $20 rebate), Office 2004
academic edition $139, Adobe Creative Suite academic edition, $389 including shipping. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Actually, it's my ears this time, as I am on hold as I type this,
and it's on-hold crap not even good enough for the Weather Channel. Last week's group ("My Airplane"),
by the way, was The Royal Guardsmen. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: during my
Tanglewood summer (1982), we often had performers visit the Koussevitzky mansion area, where the
composers lived, normally thematically: upper string players, wind players, lower strings, etc. Normally
Martler and I would make a whole MESS o' pizza in those expensive ovens, we'd serve them, and there was
almost always some sort of dance party after the pizza. I remember the week of winds getting really frisky
(and kind of dumb) and actually picking up some of the lighter people (okay, just the women) while
dancing. Other composers did it, wind players did it to the composers, but I started it. I remembered that
recently when one of the pick-upees, Liz Mann, played in the Orchestra of St. Luke's gig in June where
Take Jazz Chords was done. One of these days I'll post the oh so nerdy picture of Martin and me slicing a
big, big pizza. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY
include CompUSA and Logitech. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
AND THEN SOME this week include Arthur Marc's hot sauces and Staple Rebates. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDARY: Where does the word "dill" come from? RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Arthur Marc's Chicken Wing and Dipping Sauce, spicy olives, Porino's olive antipasto.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Mac OS X version 10.4 (Tiger, I guess) -- especially Automator and
Widgets. MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN THIS WEEK: $159 at BJ's for a 5 gig flash drive made by
Pleomax. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a little bit of
themselves, especially sunny. NUMBER OF TIMES THIS NON-CATEGORY WILL APPEAR ON THIS
PAGE: 1. SOMETHING I'D LIKE TO PUT WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE: photographic film, and
Bernard Goldberg. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE an Altoid, a disk label, a pair of discarded underwear, a 3-prong to 2-prong adapter.
It has actually been a very eventful week, and almost thirteen (or however many it is -- a bunch of new
regular readers popped out of the woodwork in the last two weeks, and I'm using it as an opportunity not to
count them, or to change the flippant tone of these updates), you are very lucky to see an update at all this
week. My Windows computer is very nearly dead, and it was a miracle that I got it to start up at all. As I
started this paragraph, I was on hold with CompUSA, from whom I had bought the computer, for 20
minutes and was then cut off. A call back got me on hold another 20 minutes and I got the nice message
that I should have called a different number. Prompting me why to wonder how this world has gotten to a
point where icky things like this happen to people, like me, who are very good at following instructions. I
was going to say "But I digress," but to do that I would have had to been having a point -- and there's a
complicated verb tense (past progressive subjunctive passive?) for you. But again, I do not digress. Here's
the skinny: bad boot blocks on the windows/web page computer, sometimes it will start up, sometimes I
have to go through complicated tricks to get it to start up -- this most recent startup failed about a dozen
times, until I tried whistling the piccolo part to the Trio of the Stars and Stripes forever while hopping up
and down on one foot, holding my nose, and thinking good thoughts about manila folders. That didn't
actually work, but you see, we are back to the impossibility of digression. And its unbearable lightness.
Stop me somebody.
But the real big story of the week -- actually there are two, but this one is bigger -- is Sunny's adventures in
vet visits (doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?). Beff was in Maine until late Friday night, so she
couldn't participate in the very beginning of the Sunny Affair. Thursday afternoon when I let Sunny in for
dinner, he seemed spooked about something -- normally he runs up to me and does the very cute I'm Grown
Up But I Want You To Think I'm Still A Kitten thing of rubbing against the (my) legs and purring and stuff,
but instead he looked at me like I'd just set off a firecracker, very tentatively approached the back steps, and
when he got to his waiting food, he batted at it a little before starting to eat it. I just figured Krazy Kat thing
-- after all those years when we'd hear Drip just running maniacally around the house at 3 in the morning, I
figured, hey Krazy Kat manifests itself in lots of different ways. Sunny's has a few drops of paranoia.
Well. So. On Friday morning I heard a lot of pretty impressive Kitty Sneezes in the morning, the sound of

Kitty-Barf-o-rama, and a puzzled Cammy looking on. After what I figured were six barfs, I called the vet
for an appointment. In the meantime, I discovered four more Barf Sites, even slipping on one of them in my
flip-flops. Summer is a dangerous time to have a barfing cat in your midst. So, near the appointed time
(2:20), Sunny was not to be found. I rolled my eyes (later, I was to roll some dough to make pizza, and here
I DO digress) and searched all the nooks and crannies. And there he was, holed up in the pump organ (or
American harmonium, as our pretentious friends call it -- or they would if we had any friends). The
aperture to get him out was by far at the wrong angle to do so without hurting him -- especially as he had
just barfed ten times -- so I rolled my eyes again (by this time I was getting dizzy), took all the stuff off the
organ, made a sound that the court stenographer would transcribe as "HrrrUMMMph!", lifted the bass side
of the organ, and transferred him into a different location with my only free limbs (my feet). Nope, no
kicking, just sliding. Oddly, I did not feel "pumped", even though it is, indeed, a pump organ.
So I got Sunny to the vet, and I knew everyone would be bored (as you almost 13? 14? 15? already are) if I
told the How I Got Him Here In The First Place story, so I sat quietly. The vet took his temperature, which
was normal, Sunny got very distressed and panted a lot, and blood work was done. I was told to feed him
some bland food for a while and let the vet know if he got more lethargic. All seemed to be doing better
until Saturday night, when both Beff and I noticed that his head was achieving asymmetry -- the left side
seemed to be a little bigger than the right side. This doesn't happen in our unretouched photos of him.
Sunday night I discovered what looked like what may be a tick or a wound on that side of his head, and
Beff called the emergency animal care place near Staples in Acton. Comically, for an "emergency care"
place, the wait was three hours. So at about 8 we got there, filled out paperwork and were invited to rest in
our car. I took a walk to a scenic place where a house in on some flowing water and came back, and then
almost slept. We were summoned at 10, described the problem, and were invited to call back at midnight:
they were going to shave that part of his head and fix whatever it was they found. Speculation at that time
ran rampant that he had been bitten by another cat, perhaps the one that occasionally hangs out in the
garage, as does Sunny. So .. we worked on our computers as we could, and called back at .... midnight.
They were just about to finish, and we could come on over.
And that we did. After we waited until 1, they brought out Sunny, now wearing a cone on his head -- I'd
only seen dogs with these things, and this looked both pathetic and funny (the humor is somewhat
increased by learning that it is called an "Elizabethan Collar"). Clownlike, I guess. Beff had been told they
found a worm in the sore that could have grown bigger and gone for his brain (as Woody Allen called it,
"my second favorite organ") and we were lucky to get it while it was still very small. What I thought I
heard the vet say was that the worm was called a "cuba libre", or a rum and coke to those of us who pride
ourselves on our mastery of useless information. Beff thought it was "cutalibre", hence the term "cooties."
Given that it was 1 in the morning, we sure were inventive, if dumb. The info sheet said what was found
was a "cuterebra," which I looked up online when we got home: a maggot, the larva of the bot fly. Ewww.
Meanwhile, Sunny was waking up from the anesthesia and was simultaneously very groggy and very
distressed. He did the expected attempts to get the cone off, and kept losing his balance in doing so -- see
the Sunnycone movie over to the left. We couldn't help laughing when he would fall over. The whole
distress thing became old, though, as he started poking that cone into wires attached to computers, etc., so
Beff volunteered to take him onto the porch for the night and sleep with him. From 2 to 5 Beff was on the
porch with him, and apparently he never stopped pacing and going in circles. This afternoon I am grateful
that at least he's tired now, even if it's awkward for him to try to sleep with the cone. So ... we have to
ointment him twice a day for three days, and on the fourth the cone comes off. Oddly enough, next Tuesday
is the yearly checkup for both cats, so there will be MANY stories to tell. And Cammy will just roll his
eyes and yawn. I would.
These two Sunny events gave me a lot more empathy for people with small children, for whom similar
events are far more traumatic (more shared DNA strands and all that) and incalculably more expensive.
"My cat had a worm and has to wear a cone." "My daughter had strep throat." No comparison, folks. I
brought this notion up to Beff, who mused, "We are great pet owners. We would be terrible parents."
Another big event of the week, in terms of time spent, is the installation of the new iMac G5 with that 20
inch screen, Tiger software, widgets, etc., and the backing up of files from the old iMac -- which was

mondo time consuming. Alas, I found out much too late that files copied in OS 9 are interpreted differently
in OS X, and none of my fonts were recognized as fonts, Word docs as Word docs, etc. I discovered the OX
10.4 Automator program that could, by batch, rename files to have the extensions .DOC, .JPG, .MUS, etc.,
and that sure was a time saver. The fonts, well, I had to get them from an OS X computer, and I did, Oscar,
I did. Toast 5 could not recognize the Superdrive on this machine, so I downloaded an upgrade. My Office
for Mac OS X is an upgrade and in installing it it asks you where the old version is, and I can't do that
'cause the old version is in OS 9, and this computer doesn't have it. And I finally gave up my old classic
Photoshop 5 that came with my scanner, bit the bullet, and ordered the cheaper version of the Adobe
Creative Suite -- Photoshop, Go Live, Illustrator, etc. It is fully my intention eventually to move this web
page and all its HTML to the other computer. But patience, almost 12(13, 14, 15, whatever). I look forward
to being able to code HTML with web links IN THE TEXT -- can't do that in Web Easy. Then, of course,
all hell will break loose.
The next step after building up the iMac G5 was to convert the old one to Beff's DVD burning computer
and move out the old 4-year-old G4. I winced as Beff mercilessly deleted big folder after big folder of mine
-- always asking for permission, of course -- and installed OS 10.2 so that she could use Final Cut Express
on it. Only hitch was that iLife 4 would not install (it's legal -- I got the family pack, which gives you 5
installs) because it thought iTunes, iDVD, iMovie or Garage Band was already running. Which was a lie!
After much browsing on the 'net, Beff got the great idea to check the startup items, where she discovered
iTunes helper. Which she disabled. So now we are both set, at least I will be when my last software arrives.
A 250 gig drive sure is nice. Oh yeah, I haven't finished updating my iTunes yet -- I had downloaded "iPod
rip" to transfer my entire 3700 song collection to the new computer, and it ... uh, doesn't work. So I am
slowly reconstructing iTunes with the files from the Power Book G4. I sure have a lot of songs. I look
forward to when the process is complete. I am also pleased to report that Widgets is cool. I get to see the
weather radar immediately, get dictionary definitions, and see satellite images of any address I want. But I
digress, I think.
Somehow in the midst of all that stuff I arranged the funk etude for 9 clarinets (6 B-flat, 2 bass, 1
contrabass) because I'd heard that the 3 BIGgo clarinetists of the USMB were all retiring. I was only twothirds right. I dedicated the piece to the three of them and called it "It Takes Nine to Funk" -- the only one
of many titles on Nine and Funk that passed the Beff test. And Beff and I held a big party for people from
the Composers Conference here most of the day yesterday, which involved making 6 pans of pizza and
having a dozen hot dogs and 12 hamburgers at the ready -- last time I had done this I ran out of food
because some of the composers (Hillary, you know who you are) were having an eating contest, and they
wailed and gnashed their teeth continuously about when the next food would be ready. This time, though,
the weather got cloudy and coolish, the party was 11 people, and there were no eating contests. Lunch
today was leftover snacky chicken, which I had not the chance to make yesterday. I will mention here that
after a big beer bash like that, it takes quite a bit of effort to make oneself ready to drive to an emergency
animal hospital.
Oh yeah, Font Book in OS 10.3 and 10.4 is cool. I have thousands of fonts, so I figured I'd just create some
libraries with all my fonts and enable and disable them as I chose. Bad idea, kimodavy. This slowed down
the computer considerably, since I figure every application that uses fonts has to read a library of 3000 of
them and disregard the 2700 that are disabled. The trial version of Word started up, gave me the
"Optimizing Font Menu for better performance" message and sat there. After two hours it still just sat there.
So (sigh), I went and deleted all the fonts from the libraries that I am not using. I still have to get some
more stuff off the old iMac, including Petrucci -- hey, the new Finale seems not to have it, so when I open
old Finale files they are all lines and big O's and OE's..... I guess I should have put "Finale music" on the
list of companies who have not covered themselves in glory.
So speaking of digressing, here's my stuff. Staples rebate for the copier finally arrived after having been
cancelled twice by mouth breathers. Arthur Marc sent me two cases of his great hot sauce and billed me -he trusted me to pay him! And boy do I dig that stuff. Meanwhile, the Logitech optical 3-button mouse I'd
gotten for the new computer turned out to be defective. I listed CompUSA up there because of putting me
on hold a long time and then disconnecting me. Inko's White Teas will be up there again when they send
me the free t-shirt (I had told the founder that his benificence was like that of Sarastro, and he's probably

the only beverage company founder out there who would or could have thanked me for comparing him to a
character in a Mozart opera).
The old G4 is not in the why-isn't-it-my-former-office-yet while I figure out what to do with it. Sunny
almost coned it over a few times. And anyway, back to rebuilding my iTunes library. Sigh. Meanwhile, as
the Windows computer saga gets played out, don't grow accustomed to regular weekly updates here. For
the computer sucketh. IN FACT, the computer bombed just after I typed the description of the pics below,
aargh and all that. Also, f**k and s**t and OLAMBIC.
Another big effort of the previous week was an offshoot of a trip to BJ's for mass quantities of party food
materials. After getting extra lettuce, cheese, artichokes, etc., I noticed on the drive home that my next oil
change was due 80 miles previous. So instead of going straight home, I went to Jiffy Lube in Maynard (as
Martin and I say it, JEE FEE LOOB, which is next to the GAY UH TEE gas station). With a half hour to
kill, I walked over to my bank (Bank o' America -- the Irish version) and signed up for online bill paying (it
used to be free for anyone with direct deposit only -- and we have that in spades AND clubs -- but now it's
free for everyone. It should be, since online bill paying costs BOFA maybe a tenth of the cost of handling
actual paper checks). I dealt with a pile of bills, made our list of payees and amounts, and voila -- they got
paid. And online we can see what payees got how much, and see scans of our cancelled checks, and ... oh,
it's too much to bear! Beff was singularly unimpressed -- I may as well have told her that I got NEW MAP
SOFTWARE! until she looked herself, realized she can see in a flash what has transpired in our accounts,
including checks that have cleared (this morning she actually POINTED at our payment for seafood dinner
Monday night) and now I finally feel like it's a little less of a guy thing. Hey, isn't it usually a woman doing
the online bill paying in the ads?
The junior composer job at Brandeis is in Music Vacancy List is posted, but unexplainably without the
October 1 deadline. As of Monday, the application pool consisted of 50% men, 50% women, 50% Asian,
50% white, 50% Ivy league degrees, 50% state school degrees, and 100% first name begins with K. Pretty
good so far.
I brought leftover pizza from Sunday's party to work, and deposited a bunch in the Dean's office. The Dean,
in an e-mail, called it "awesome." The Dean's first name does not begin with K.
While I'm adding superfluous detail here, I spent a bunch of time Monday afternoon calling CompUSA to
confirm that I was still covered by a warranty for my HP Windows computer. Comically enough, the first
time I was on hold 20 minutes and then disconnected. The second time I was on hold 20 minutes and talked
to someone who said I had the wrong number for what I wanted. The third time I called that new number,
and ended up being forwarded to the person to whom I had just spoken. Who insisted that their office
(Assurant Guaranty something or something like that) didn't have responsibility, CompUSA did. She gave
me a new number. The fourth person with whom I spoke said the correct number was the second number
and his office didn't have responsibility. When I explained, with tongues of fire emanating from my mouth
(perhaps "explained" is too mild a word) that I had called that number already and he was the fourth
(actually, third) person to tell me that I had called the wrong number, he politely hung up on me. The fifth
person, at that same number, reiterated that it was the wrong number for my issue, and I was given yet
another number. The sixth person, at this new number, told me I should have called the first number. This
time there were no tongues of fire emanating from me as I explained that I was a little tired of the lack of
people taking responsibility and that I had gone full circle. I was informed that was tough. So, back to the
first number, where the seventh person predictably told me I should probably have called another number,
BUT that she was handing me to someone who she thought was actually responsible. So finally, I got a
very nice guy, who knows where and in what sphere of influence he moves, who took down my case, said
he thought it was probably a software problem and gave me the number for Hewlett Packard. At this point,
Geoff and Maria had arrived and we had seafood. So, this "CompUSA did not cover itself in glory" thing -blame it on the machines, but somewhere along the line somebody made the decision about how the
trunking works in such calls, and this person probably went to a different company years ago. Oh, where is
the OUTRAGE?
Speaking of outrage. After seeing Bernard Goldberg on the Daily Show while we were in the Adirondacks,

I was actually curious enough about his "100 People Who Are Wrecking America" book to buy it, at a steep
discount, and read it. Getting through it was not unlike when you try to run fast in your dreams and
something keeps you from moving at all, and you lean into your running and still get nowhere. It was fun, I
guess, to read bile about liberals because the argument was so shallow and could have been coming right
out of Ann Coulter's mouth. But the writing is very poor. When the countdown got down to #21 or so, I
started writing comments in the margins. By the time I got around to #11 or #10, I started crossing out
entire articles. Bile started being spewed around #7. But I made it to the end, and ceremoniously tossed the
book into the trash. Which I guess turned my marginalia into a kind of performance art -- all emotion and
bile, but for no audience whatsoever (sometimes bringing me to those fluoxetine hydrochloride days).
Bernard Goldberg can perform an anatomical impossibility with himself, but he's helped me get into cutting
edge performance art, and for that I am indifferent.
This week's pictures include the new G5 iMac in context (the desktop picture is the Minuteman Trail) and
the old iMac in its new context. Followed by Sunny modeling his new Elizabethan collar, and Cammy
trying to read Sunny's mind and not being very subtle about it. We finish with Cammy grasping the bed,
and my new Arthur Marc's hot sauce collection (where it is stored, on the work table in the basement).
AUGUST 8. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausage patties with melted
2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner/lunch was pizza. Yesterday's breakfast (pictured way below)
was Trader Joe's potato pancakes, fake egg omelettes with fat-free cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 59.7 and 94.1. LARGE EXPENSES this last week
include deposit with Casello electric for rewiring, $800, refurbished HP Windows computer with
maintenance contract, $779, various dinners with friends, various prices. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Zeccatella" (etude #59 as performed by Geoff Burleson, a recording of which I
just got). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the four "lost" years between grad school
and full employment, my routine while living in Brookline was to spend a full day at each of the Boston
YWCA Development Office and the Boston YMCA Black Achievers, and two half-days each at each place
-- not exactly conducive to getting music written and especially not for getting that dissertation done. For a
little while in, I think, 1986, I worked extra hours (at $12 an hour) to save up for an external hard disk for
my fat Mac (the original 128K Mac fattened to 512K RAM at a cost of $330). I recall that it took 3 months
of extra work, essentially adding up to full-time hours -- PLUS doing the occasional typing for
Computerimages -- to save up the $800 it cost for my external hard drive. The size of the drive: 20
megabytes. How big it seemed at the time: infinite. Speed of my modem for crusing bulletin boards: 1200
baud. What was my next computer: a Mac SE that I got at the Stanford discount in 1988: internal 20 meg
drive and TWO floppy drives, and a meg of memory. $2600 at that steep discount, as I recall.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY is amazon.com.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME this week
include Arthur Marc's hot sauces and Inko's White Teas. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How
does old pesto turn blue? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Arthur Marc's Chicken Wing and
Dipping Sauce, spicy olives, Inko's white tea (original). DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Adobe Creative
Suite 2 and all the applications in it, each of which has a trailing "CS 2". MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN
THIS WEEK: is actually none. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is
a tiny corner of Sunny's scab (by Sunny) and a few little nicks on the screens by the window seats
downstairs. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 41 out of 47. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: the passive voice. INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE Sunny's scab,
Sunny's Elizabethan collar, a bot fly larva, a grain of coarse-ground pepper.
I am no longer claiming a readership of "almost twelve" or "almost thirteen", since more people have told
me they have read this page, though of course most did not claim to be regular readers. I now say the
readership is "well into the low two figures." As long as the quality of this page declines as steadily as it
has been, I have no fear of that being contradicted for some time.
As I type this, Beff is in Vermont for the week teaching at the Vermont Youth Orchestra summer camp -she actually left a little earlier than anticipated, because she'd been alerted that more faculty would be
stuffed into the same size dorm-ish apartments as last year, and she didn't want to be stuck having to sleep

in a living room. As far as I can tell from her phone call, she got an actual bedroom. I suggested she take
stock of the living situation and be like me -- threaten not to come back next year if status quo holds. I'm
like that. She does, of course, get to be close to her dad and, as it turns out, her sister and our nephew, who
are in town, too. So there she will be.
That which involved the most physical AND emotional energy this week had to do with Sunny's rum and
coke. Or cuterebra, if I remember the term right (as big Mike rightly noted, bot flies are disgusting). We
were directed to keep the cone (or Elizabethan collar) on him until Friday, but he was so pathetic and
depressed-looking that it plunged deeply into our guilt to make him wear it constantly -- especially as it
was humid weather, and the inside of the cone was getting disgusting with his dander and saliva. So at first,
on Wednesday, we took off the collar at feeding times, and watched him like a hawk for when he would aim
to scratch the injured area. Each time that happened, it actually looked like mass panic, as we kind of
yelled, lunged, and used that as a teaching point -- that was when the collar went back on. Actually, on
Tuesday night, somehow during the night he managed to slip out of the collar, and I discovered him looking
very mundane in the dining room. Quickly I recollared him, plunged into those same feelings of guilt,
uncollared him, watched him like a hawk, lunged when he made motions to scratch, repeat as often as
necessary. Finally by Friday the wound was solid enough to let him free, and we felt free to concentrate on
non-Sunny things. Many of which there were.
On Wednesday morning our insurance agent -- an independent insurance agent who speaks for the actual
insurers -- called to let us know our homeowner's insurer was cancelling our home insurance (no small
thing, since our mortgage requires we have this insurance) because of the antiquated knob and tube wiring
in the basement that one of their inspectors found. It was called a fire hazard, blah blah blah, and as usual
my first impulse was to suggest various anatomical impossibilities for the insurance company. Luckily, I've
been trained to suppress those impulses. Our agent -- who is really cool, but had a chance 5 years ago when
he inspected the house himself to tell us we had antiquated and dangerous wiring -- suggested we could be
put on the "Fair Mass. Plan", which sounds like a charity case, and we're too proud for that kind of thing, so
I said what if we got it rectified? He called the company and said they'd give us until September 8 to put a
deposit down for an electrician to rewire. And we called Casello Electric, and the nice guy scheduled us for
September 2 and agreed to bill us for one day's work by two guys: eight hundred bucks. Though I certainly
expect such a complicated job to take more than just a day. I will, of course, be asking our agent to get us
another homeowner's insurer when this contract is up.
Ooh, look at all that anger seeping out. I stand accused. By me. Well, lots of things happened this week that
go into the minor frustrations that add up exponentially file, and the lovely CompUSA phone experience I
described last week (five numbers, seven agents, cut off once, only one of those agents acknowledged any
responsibility whatsoever) had plenty to do with it. The continuation of that story is that I called HP, as I
was directed, since it looked like software problem. They wanted to talk me through the programs that
come preinstalled on my computer for reinstalling Windows, etc., and damned if I was going to pay for
something that anyone with an IQ well into the low two figures could figure out by himself. So after
navigating through the many "this disk is bad" and "this disk is unbootable" messages, I got to the HP
Restore utility -- the last resort -- where the hard disk was restored to how it looked when we first unpacked
it in May, 2002. The sound of harp glissandi and birds singing could be ascertained from outside (HP has
some very powerful backers), and meanwhile many of my programs and files and Shortcuts were still there.
Including the files for this webpage. So, temporarily, and for however long it takes me to learn GoLive CS
2, this web page will continue to be edited and updated using WebEasy -- fantastically easy to use, and
actually hasn't bombed in more than a year and a half. For as long as this computer will start up, anyway (I
had to go through yet another CHKDSK when I started this time).
So because of these trials and tribulations -- and who knows when or how either CompUSA or HP will
decide which one is responsible for this disk stuff -- we started letting the Windows computer GO (in the
emotional sense). Beff talked openly (thankfully, while the HP computer was turned off) about turning this
area into the mobile computing area -- with the USB hub, printer, and DSL connection for whichever
PowerBook we chose to put up here (on this drafting table, which was, by the way, my college graduation
present in 1980). We figured we'd get to know Go Live and transfer the content to the iMac G5 (I even
shopped for web hosting packages in the meantime, and hardly understood any of it). Noise reduction

software and mp3 encoding is now available to us on our Macs (such things could only be had for Mac for
$700 three years ago). And both iMacs are set up for real e-mail software. And then we looked for the last
piece: map software. Being remote as we are, we often have to send printed or emailed maps to people to
get here, or generate them when we go somewhere unfamiliar for the first time. I bought Route 66 for Mac
a few years ago, Beff tried it -- and it sucks big, huge, gigantic ones. I looked for maps on the Delorme site,
and they no longer do Mac software (which makes me like them not very much). And the available Rand
McNally software got one star on amazon from nearly every reviewer.
So I idly looked through some computer seller sites and we settled on a new Windows computer. And this
technology thing always gets me. The computer is two-thirds the cost of what we paid for this sickly one.
And it has four times the RAM, three times the hard disk, twice the processor speed, 7 USB 2.0 ports
(instead of 2 USB 1.1 ports), 2 Firewire ports (as compared to zero), a DVD-CD burner (as compared to a
CD burner and a DVD playback drive that hasn't worked for two years), and -- this is the photography nerd
in me going WOO WOO WOO -- card readers for all the cameras we have (Compact Flash, SD, Memory
Stick,and Memory Stick Pro). I would have cited similar statistics for this computer compared to the 3year-old one it replaced, by the way. We will continue to use it for the Windows-only programs that Beff
had let go of (including Cool Edit, Acid, Fruity Loops, and Streets & Trips 2004), web browsing, and emailing when the other computers are busy. Yes, our computers are pretty busy lately. The most common
repeated occurrence this past week involves one of us entering the room while the other is using the iMac
and the other saying, "do you want this? I'm almost done."
The one most aggravating thing about returning to a virgin Windows was browsing while the Messenger
something blah blah blah was enabled. Three years ago I figured out how to turn off the nasty advertising
popups, which at the time were for Viagra and porn websites and very primitive. This time with Messenger
turned on, I kept getting "SYSTEM MESSAGE: your file system is corrupted. Download a fix from ...."
which I almost fell for once -- because, hey, my file system actually is corrupted. Another reason why I hate
Windows. But I hate bacteria, too, and without them I couldn't digest any food. I forgot to mention that
today is the Day of the Non Sequitur. Squirrels. True to form, when I googled "stop Windows pop-up
messages", the first 7 or 8 choices were sponsored ones, as in download and pay for this instead of finding
out where this little switch in Control Panels is. Gregg was right about what the internet has become.
Chipmunks.
We ate out in Maynard three times this week. We only do that when people visit, so bear with me. Monday
night (as I reported in the last update), Geoff and Maria came for dinner and we went to the Quarterdeck.
Geoff has a new 7 megapixel toy (it's bigger than mine -- as guys would tend to say, and hey, I'm a guy),
returned Buffy Season 7, and brought a keen new CD of the Davytudes he played this spring -- including
the premiere and an encore of Zeccatella. Which is very cool -- both the performance and the piece. His
Pittsburgh performance of Bop It was blindingly fast and very cool -- I could have sworn it was Bud Powell
except for the being alive thing -- and I reacquainted myself with old favories Horned In and You Dirty Rag
(also brilliant, both of us). Actually, according to iTunes I played Zeccatella 12 times (each time
concentrating heavily on a different pitch class). So far. The Flea performance I removed noise from using
Bias Soap, and it worked about as well as Cool Edit. But anyway, we walked to the restaurant, took
pictures, and so on, and fun it was. I gave Geoff an Inko's, Buffy Season 1, and a jar of Arthur Marc's Hot
Sauce in return. Actually, I lent the Buffy. The other stuff, well, how do you return it when you are finished
with it?
Tuesday night David "The" Smooke drove all the way from the Bard festival where he had been passing the
time. I won't go into his motives for driving 3-1/2 hours each way for dinner (he called us an island of
sanity, which just goes to show you how deluded you get about things when you pass through Bard), and
our conversation ranged from alpha to omega and back. Both of us had the Chicken Ginger at Little Pusan.
Okay, grammarly types, EACH of us had the chicken ginger. I played him the MIDI of the funk etude, and,
trained as he is to look for references in my etudes, he thought he heard "Girl From Ipanema" (with the
triumphant tone that made it obvious he expected a prize or a diploma), while I poo-poohed that. Or
perhaps said it wasn't intentional. Or ignored him. I forget which. My branching and trunking has been a
little faulty as of late.

And on Friday, Christine Schadeberg and Mike Finckel took time off from the Composers Conference to
come to Maynard for dinner at the Quarterdeck. As is my wont, I brought the Sony camera, and took a little
digital movie of Mike, um, poseuring for the camera, and I included that movie -- slowed down -- in the
yellow text to the left. Christine jovially told us about this year's experiences at the conference -- aw geez,
both of them have been there for more than 20 years -- and we had steamers, and ginger fish, and clam roll,
and fish chowder, and everything beginning with "p" we could find. Strong thunderstorms had passed just
to our south in the mid-afternoon, and electricity went out in Wellesley. But nothing happened here, except
-- we exited the restaurant at sunset, and there was a bigass rainbown over the mill pond. I tried getting
some shots, but it's too faint for my mere 5 megapixels. While Mike and I filled Chris's vehicle (with gas),
it is claimed, by Beff and Chris (passive voice, remember?) that briefly the rainbow became a triple
rainbow. I took some nice pix, but mostly I have better ones from other sunsets. Let's call these particular
pictures archival. Or archrival.
Wednesday and Saturday nights were occupied by trips to Wellesley itself for concerts where former
students or composers associated with me (I'm not going to parse that, dear well into low two figures) had
pieces performed, and there was some very stunning stuff. Jeremy Sagala had written a tonal-modal piece
for the amateur commission, and last week I hated the piece and this week I liked it. Amy Kaplan had a
"funny" piece that reminded both Beff and me, fleetingly, of the Stravinsky Ragtime. John Aylward had
some really, really, neat stuff in his piano concerto. Grace's songs came off very nicely with some lovely
color combinations, though the things that some people said reminded them of me escaped me. And
"iceman" Steve Hoey's piece was gorgeous and colorful, particularly the end when the layers started getting
stripped away. There. Did I satisfy everybody? (if I had a nickel for every time I've said THAT one...) Big
Mike carpooled with us for the Wednesday show, as he and Amy are old, old, old, old, old, old, old, old
friends. Groundhog.
Both Adobe Creative Suite 2 (Photoshop, In Design, Go Live, Acrobat Professional, Illustrator) arrived,
taking up 4 CDs for installation, plus 2 discs of goodies which I haven't cracked open, plus a training CD.
As has become the custom, there was no printed documentation of any kind, so there was not much to be
gained from a first crack at these programs. I did own Illustrator 88, Illustrator 3 and Illustrator 5 but it's
gone fairly far since those heady days. In Design opens my Pagemaker documents (I was a registered user
of version 1.2), but again there's lots of cool new features that I'll have to discover at some later date. Ditto
for Photoshop, which is the Photoshop LE 5 that I know (came with a scanner) plus a zillion other things. I
used Photoshop to reduce the resolution of this week's pictures, since I have access to no other program that
will do that -- and (geek alert) now the program has a "save for web" feature that makes GIFs instead of
JPGs, about half the size (I know, I tried both). And I watched about 20 minutes of the Creative Suite video
-- gawrsh, the narrator gets about 7 broken arms from patting himself on the back -- and as you might
expect it's not for newbies. I opened GoLive and opened the Home of this webpage, and got this very cool
background with absolutely everything smushed up in the upper left corner. No one is going to win a design
award for that one. So, more discovery remains, and I may actually have to ask Carolyn some things.
Now thanks to the lack of real documentation, a whole cottage industry of books that tell you how to use
this software you already purchased has cropped up. bn.com reveals about 20 Photoshop books, and many,
many others for Creative Suite 2 -- most of which have publication dates between September and
December. Why, I never. I ordered what bn.com said was available NOW, at a cost of $72 (including tax,
which bn.com actually charges), but we shall see what happens with that. Amazon, meanwhile, has been
sitting on an order I made last June 20 without shipping it (I went for the free shipping option) and just
today told me that only one of them (Star Trek sound effects -- yes, le dweeb c'est moi) was ready to ship,
and the rest would come at the end of the month -- maybe. I remember when amazon.com was pretty good.
Do you? Hedgehog.
Well. Well, then. Well. Finally, by Wednesday I got the entire iTunes library ported over, plus the new
etudes from Geoff, plus a Sheryl Crow CD, and I thought I was done. Then arrived the Creative Suite. And
Finale 2006, by the way, but I am putting that off for a little bit longer. As for today, I have been using
Finale 2005 -- for the first time ever -- pretty constantly. I have entered what I have of the piano trio so that
the trio --which will have a few hours together this week -- can start to rehearse it. I may have mentioned -the first performance is scheduled at Rice University in September, and NOT in Vermont in October. In

other non-news, the Network for New Music had contacted me to see if I'd be interested in writing a piano
left-hand piece with ensemble for their benefit in December with Leon Fleisher and I said sure, I'd even do
it for free. My brain had been occupied with possibilities for such a piece until they got back to me and kept
changing the parameters and finally said it wouldn't work because Mr. Fleisher was too solidly booked to
learn a new piece so quickly. Which was fine, though it took a while for me to empty those lefthanded
thoughts from my brain.
I had gotten notice from Alex at Inko's Teas that BJ's now had 12-packs for 10 bucks -- a considerable bit
less than the $1.89 per tea we had just paid at Shaw's -- so we went to BJs to get some, as well as some
salad, tomatoes, USB cables, and other various things that hit our fancy. On the same trip we had gone to
Target (next to BJs) to get Beff some new shorts, but the selection was pitiful, so we up and went to TJ
Maxx, where success was had. Beff had carried around some flaming red ones, but settled on blue.
Raccoon.
Blast from the past yesterday as I spoke with Michelle Green (-Willner) for the first time in many a year
(probably about seven). For the uninitiated (that would be all of you), Michelle was a student of mine in my
first year at Columbia, and is now raising four children (all of them hers) in sunny southern California.
There is a prospect for the family to come to the other coast, hence our conversation.
This week the appointments of note include The Maids, Tuesday morning, checkups and rabies boosters for
both cats Tuesday afternoon (boy will I have stories to tell the bet), and a meeting about the composer
search at Brandeis on Thursday afternoon. Thursday is our 16th wedding anniversary, and normally we
would expect appropriate gifts well into the low two figures. But there is no appropriate gift. If you didn't
get us anything last year, you might be pleased to be informed that it is the crystal anniversary.
This week the movies up there are Mike Finckel gesticulating at the Quarterdeck, and a sped-up and
chopped up movie of Beff leaving for Vermont late yesterday morning. Underneath, yesterday's breakfast in
the Davy context and the Beff context. Follow that with Sunny resting with his scar visible, and the knob
and tube wiring in the basement that makes insurance companies absolutely loathe us. Then, Friday's sunset
and very faint (to cameras) rainbow, the new Inko's tea from BJ's, Mike and Christine at the Quarterdeck,
Maria at the Quarterdeck, and Geoff's 7 megapixels perfectly catching the flash of my camera.

AUGUST 15. Breakfast this morning was somebody's lowfat turkey breakfast sausage links, orange juice
and coffee. Dinner was Trader Joe's random seafood chunks in Trader Joe's cioppino sauce. Yesterday's
lunch was Oscar Mayer fat free hot dogs with dill relish, Arthur Marc's hot sauce, Gulden's mustard, and
Heinz ketchup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 64.4 and 95.0. LARGE EXPENSES
this last week include $188 for checkups, distemper shots, and rabies vaccinations for both cats, Windows
software at $99 including three rebates, Windows MS Office, $99 from amazon, $178 for office supplies at
Staples (on tax-free Saturday) and $350 in electronic supplies at Radio Shack (on tax-free Sunday). MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "For Pete's Sake" from the Monkees Headquarters
album -- for a while it was used over the closing credits on their TV show. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: there were two items I craved mightily in the early portion of my double-digit years: a
small, portable, battery-powered movie projector and the second Monkees album (you see I wasn't hip
enough at the time to crave the Beatles). In each case, my mother made me do chores around the house to
accumulate enough cash to buy them. At the time I didn't know I was being taught "responsibility" because
I wasn't. At the age of ten, the only word that came to mind was "torture". Eighteen cents to dust the living
room? A dime to shovel the sidewalk? How would I EVER make $2.88 for the record, or $5.88 for the
projector? Nowadays it's the Citibank Thankyou rewards that accumulate this glacially. COMPANIES
WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY is Roxio, through their proxy
RebatesHQ.com. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME
this week is Inko's White Teas, who sent a couple of free t-shirts. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY:
Why does anyone, but anyone, work on Windows? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Arthur
Marc's Chicken Wing and Dipping Sauce, Inko's white tea, Bubbie's pickles, Real Pickles. DISCOVERY
OF THE WEEK The wall of the Ben Smith dam, recently exposed because of light flow of the Assabet.
And the fact that pictures filed in your Mac OS X address book show up on e-mails you get from those

people. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE
CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 7.
DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 31 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT
BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: G5 chips that run cool. INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an Altoids apple sour, frozen
pizza, a burning pile of tires, that word on the tip of your tongue.
Stacy called me "Mr. Wordy" after last week's update. I didn't have a similar epithet to hurl back at her, just
the satisfaction of an extremely rich life and a whole bunch of time on my hands. Actually, I got a new
scrubbing sponge and that got most of the time off of my hands (think about it). Where I could go next with
this joke is beyond me.
There is a far smaller variety of things that have happened this week because I spent so much time writing
piano trio music. Since Monday last, I finished a first movement and wrote all of a second movement. The
third movement is under way, and it is (sigh) blazingly fast. The deadline is ... soon. What I was writing in
the first movement seemed largely arbitrary, as it always does, but then when I put it into Finale and look at
it laid out neatly on screen, then it seems like actual music. Thoughtful music even, with ... ow, my arm
hurts from patting myself on the back. Even II. looks like real music on screen. Must put more music into
Finale, and more quickly. For the first time, I am using Finale 2005 to enter a piece (because Finale 2006
arrived after I started inputting it), and for the first time I am putting a multi-movement piece all in one file
instead of in two or three or four of them. I am tricky that way.
This is not to say that I didn't do other stuff last week. Hey, I had control of the house (in essence slowly
converting it into a bachelor pad) almost the whole week because Beff has been in Vermont, and that meant
taking on mundane tasks that Beff usually does that keep the place from becoming a bachelor pad (dishes,
cat litter) while blithely ignoring the other things (cleaning, for instance). Beff gave me special instructions
on better ways of guiding the litter from the box to the garbage pail so that it doesn't fall onto the floor (as if
I were seven, but I showed her -- I acted like I was almost nine), but it still didn't work all the time. Darn
that limp-wristed scooping technique, darn it!
A few important other things did happen this week, though. The new Windows computer arrived and I set it
up and ran it to see how things were going. Those companies that bundle trial versions of their software are
getting WAY more aggressive than three years ago -- I was greeted by a plethora of "your trial version of
xxxxx expires in three months, you must register and pay to keep it going, don't you wanna, don't you
wanna, DON'T YOU WANNA, HMMMM?" pop-ups, and I authorized my trial versions of Norton stuff,
which is itself more aggressive than it was before. Hey, the second time I turned the computer on it was to
check the internet connection and view e-mail, but Norton anti-virus started right up and showed me its
virus scanning progress right off the bat. NO, NO, NO, I said (not so much said as clicked the Cancel
button) and Office 2003 tryout popped up and said hi, and -- every time about a minute after startup is
finished I get the dreaded program bomb button "Setconfig encountered an error and had to terminate". At
first I just pressed "Cancel", but since it got to be so prevalent, I actually got into the habit of clicking the
"Send Error Report" button. Soon when I did that, Explorer shot up and showed me a page saying
UNIDENTIFIED ERROR IN THIS PROGRAM CAUSED BY HEWLETT PACKARD DAMNED IF I
KNOW WHAT THE PROBLEM IS BUT IT'S NOT MICROSOFT'S FAULT AND EVEN IF IT WHAT
COULD YOU DO ABOUT IT ANYWAY? So my ten-year impression of Windows as a rinky-dink
operating system has not been moved, even in the slightest.
Though some Windows programs kick ass. Since this sucker comes with a DVD burner, Beff researched
software for creating digital media (I know the buzzwords, too), and settled on Roxio Easy Media Creator
7.5, which was selling at Staples with an instant savings AND with a mail-in rebate. More on the rebate
later. I installed that program, and then investigated to see if I could make a backup DVD of my US Marine
Band Plays The Midwest Clinic (And Davy's On It, Too) DVD. I had considered calling the company who
recorded it to buy another copy because the DVD has gotten scratched in its holder (I've since transferred it
to a paper sleeve), and parts of it wouldn't play on my office computer because of it. So the program
created a digital image of the DVD, and I was able to burn another one, for my own use. Yes, it's legal -home recording act, and ahem, my publisher owns the copyright on part of the music. Cool. So now Beff's

plans are to make a cadre of standard DVDs of her stuff in iDVD 4, make disc images of them on the
Windows computer, and burn when needed.
I also got Office academic edition, Norton System works (FREE after TWO mail-in rebates!), and
DeLorme mapping stuff -- which, I am sorry to report, kind of sucks. So I sent the rebate stuff in with the
usual requirements: receipts, pieces of the boxes, childhood photos, leftover sausages, DNA samples, etc.
And since all the notification stuff is done by e-mail nowadays, there's this odd time where you wait to see
if your rebate has been, um, "approved." Like waiting for the results of something you applied for ("I'm
sorry we can't hire you. The width of your head exceeds our specifications." "We can't offer you the job
because our XMG quotient, calculated from the information you provided, is too low",). Both the Norton
rebates have generated e-mails to me already, saying Hey Babe, We Got 'Em, Be Cool, Bro. And I got an email from RebatesHQ, a company of mouth-breathers that processes Roxio's rebates, saying click on this
link for the status of your rebate! Be cool! So I clicked and got a message saying "we're sorry for the
misunderstanding, but the rebate for which you sent in DNA and stool samples has expired." I checked on
that rebate, and discovered that the expiration date is March 10, 2006, so I not so calmly pored through the
Roxio and RebatesHQ sites for places to ask the question, dripping in as much sarcasm as is possible, of
how August 2005 is probably not later than March 2006. The Roxio site does everything it can to make it
impossible for you to ask any questions of anyone without paying a $35 fee. It even made me create an
account, which it then did not let me log into (it said the account I had just created didn't exist) -- when I
tried to create the account again, I was told the username already existed. Ah, plus ca change. I also bent a
few rules to query RebatesHQ in order to ask the question about relative places in the time-space
continuum of August 2005 and March 2006. It's too bad that bad behavior by companies who should know
better can tick me off like this, because I do indignation like nobody's business. Late last night, Roxio emailed me to kiss and make up, not matching my level of sarcasm.
By contrast, I also have good stories. Every time I have called Apple Computer with questions, someone
answers by the second ring, and knows the answers to my questions. Ditto J&R Music. So I'm not all
negatory, smarty pants.
And now obviously Web Easy is back up and running on this new computer, and I have transferred my
files. I mean, like, totally, duh. I did receive and start to read several books on Creative Suite 2, but it will
be a while before I am competent to transfer this web presence to GoLive. Being a professional program
and all that, there was a lot of unfamiliar stuff to wade through, and a ton of unfamiliar concepts -cascading style sheets, anyone? Reading the book would have reminded me of taking subjects in school
that I just didn't get, except that never happened to me (for you see, I was the smart one) -- so in return, I
should probably justify my existence and enhance my self-esteem by saying something true that is only for
the already initiated. So here it is: Imaginary Dances (1986, revised 1988) was my first piece where I felt
comfortable controlling harmony with trichord types (specifically 015, 014 and 013), deriving allcombinatorial hexachords with them and using common trichord types in a way analagous to common
tones in tonal music as a way of moving from one hexachord to another -- not to mention briefer sections
where non-structural trichords were pulled out of the hexachords and used to derive other hexachords
(yeah, like that E-type hexachord in the cadence of the first large section that got derived from 014's, and
the 015s that got pulled out of that hexachord to derive a B-type hexachord. Those were the days).
The geekness of this update is breathtaking.
Beff arrived safe and sound in yesterday's many downpours (we had three thunderstorms and then more
rain this morning), and there was enough rain for some water to get into the basement -- a rare occurrence
indeed. So that means I can put the sprinkler away again, and that the lawn might perk back up. I had, as
predicted, found a way down to the dam and brought a pruner and some gloves, and pruned away all the
stuff that was covering my usual viewing area. This summer has been so dry that the flow of the Assabet
over the dam nearly stopped entirely, but I presume it's back to a normal flow with last night's torrents.
New entries into iTunes: Monkees Headquarters, Mitch Hedberg (comedian), Missy Elliot. I heartily
recommend the Hedberg, which is funny in a stoner sort of Steven Wright sort of way ("...to be understood
when I was in the South, I started saying 'y'all' and leaving out "o-u" whenever I could. 'May I have a bowl

of chicken noodle sp?' 'I think I'll lie down on the cch.' 'I stubbed my toe! Ch!'").
The cats had their checkup and shots, and Cammy's reaction to being in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar
people was to shed violently. There were practically hair projectiles flyin' everywhere! The vet looked at
Sunny's scar, and I heard the word "pus" used in a sentence, in a non-derogatory way, for the first time in
many a year. And so Sunny got an antibiotic, which is fun to administer: aim an eyedropper at the back of
his throat, squeeze.
Okay, back to geekdom. In the process of entering a lotta notes into Finale, I feel the need to take breaks to
do dumb stuff. I discovered that pictures you put in your OS X Address book show up in the headers of emails from people whose pictures you have in your address book. So I spent idle hours dragging photos
from my collection -- usually going for the cheesiest shot possible -- and even ramped it up to searching
Google Images for some of the people I have (such as David Sanford and Sophie Wadsworth). I can't
imagine anyone doing this that isn't a total geek. Le Geek, C'est Moi.
I agreed to write an article for New Music Box about titles. I wonder why Frank asked me, other than the
obvious part about how I'd be willing to do it for free. What, am I supposed to toss off lots of little asides
like, "..and, coming from the composer of 'Absofunkinlutely' or "I should know. I called a piece Plucking
A." So if any compositore reading this wants to e-mail me any reflections or commentary about titles of
pieces, I would say, Bush-like, bring it on. Really.
I am now a ways into the final movement of a piano trio. And I need a title! The first movement is about
my cats (the strings are the cats and the piano is me -- it actually depends on what the meaning of "is" is
here), the second is a smushy adagio with lots of counterpoint and in which the strings are muted, and the
finale is a superfast scherzo in compound meter. Title, anyone? And before any of you pat yourselves on the
back for discovering such things, I'll tell you in advance that the opening music is retrograded at the end of
the first movement, the big tune in the second movement is the same pitch sequence as the opening of the
first movement, and a Big Ben style chime is hidden in the piano part in the midst of the first movement.
And ah! so far the scherzo seems to be about oblique chromatic counterpoint (as in, one note staying the
same and another note moving chromatically).
New handles for the burners on the stove! Hallelujah!
The two movies this week (on the left, yellow text) were taken during one of the thunderstorms yesterday
afternoon. This week's meager collection of photos include the Address Book entry for one of the regular
readers (identity obscured), an extreme closeup of a Pez dispenser on the geegaw window, evidence of
Maynard's extreme ambivalence about the naming of its waste, how the dam looked on Wednesday, the cats
in the living room window, and a picture of me that Geoffy took at the Quarterdeck with his damn 7
megapixels -- I was drinking some Uel Ms at the time.

AUGUST 22. Today my father would be 83. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farm veggie
breakfast patties with nonfat cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was salmon burgers with nonfat
cheese, and salad. Lunch was sushi from Shaws (California rolls for me, baby!). TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 53.6 and 88.2. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are USB 2.0 hub $26,
bicycle repair $35, anniversary dinner at the Blue Room, $112. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD
AS I TYPE THIS "My Sunny Girlfriend" from the Monkees Headquarters Album, which I actually hate.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: There was a time -- a much better time, many would say -when there were no pointless nostalgic reminiscences on this website. I had a little more hair, we had cats
that were 19 years old, and nobody cared that we had some old knob and tube wiring in the basement. And
gas was $1.27 a gallon. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
RECENTLY include HP (for every week until they provide a fix wherein "Setconfig" does not bomb a
minute after startup), Radio Shack, Radio Shack again, Finale Music and Axion. COMPANIES WHO
HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME is PAC Insurance, who followed up
about the wiring thing, and Inko's White Teas (again), 'cause I got a cool t-shirt from them. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDARY: Why are my experiences with the service industry so universally dismal? (Beff

asked this question) THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: inspecular. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, Inko's Peach Tea, olives from the olives station at Shaw's, Oscar Mayer fat
free hot dogs. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Laura Hendrie was at MacDowell with Hayes. My
autographed copy of her novel contains the gem "I don't understand your humor"... THIS WEEK'S
NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. CHANGES TO THIS SITE: Kostitsyn link deleted, Haber link
added. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, but the canvas
cooler on the back porch took a hit from Sunny (chased a dragonfly, jumped up, dragged the whole thing
down). BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR
THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 12 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: moderate Republicans. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A
SPAM: Pummels H. Nouakchott. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Superman pills pills. INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE leg of lamb, eye of
newt, Manos the Hands of Fate, a foot of snow.
I am hoping to make this little update a little shorter than has been the case recently. I am very close to
finishing my piano trio, which will be finished either today or tomorrow -- I hope. I am a little ways into
what I like to call, modestly, the "recapitulative coda," and there are still a few relationships that have to be
worked out. As is so often the case with what I like to call, modestly, "me", I used first movement music in
the second movement (snaky hocketed line becomes big tune in piano solo, unison outburst reinterpreted as
slow music), and both first and second movement music in third movement. While I'm writing that music,
it seems like I'm getting free stuff -- or at least a 2-for-1 deal I didn't earn -- but I'm confident that when I
see it in the printed Finale version it will look more like organic development than self-plagiarism. At least
that's what I'm telling the cats. The other reason, of course, that, spending 6-8 hours a day writing and 1-2
hours in Finale leaves not much time for things that are equally boring to report here.
But report I will. Beff and I did our anniversary dinner in Cambridge last Monday night at the Blue Room
near Kendall Square in Cambridge. We arrived early, got some hefeweizen and "tiger bite" ale at
Cambridge Brewery which is next door, did our very nice dinner at the blue room, and then drove back via
Alewife. Tiger Bite Ale has lemongrass in it, among other things, and was very pungent and nice, but the
hefeweizen was worth the stop. I followed that with a Bloody Mary at the Blue Room that had a salt-andpepper concoction lining the rim of the glass. Beff got the wabbit, I got the salmon, and the twain never
met.
Then Beff spent the middle part of the week in Maine doing Beff stuff while I did that boring thing of
creating a set of instructions destined to produce highly organized sound waves. And on Thursday I rested.
Well, mostly. Hayes finished a successful stint at what I like to call, modestly, The MacDowell Colony, and
he stopped by here on his way home to return the printer that I'd lent him for his stay. I offered to do a
touristy drive, which turned out more functional for me than touristy, but we did check out the old cemetary
in Concord, the Alcott House, Trader Joe's, Staples (the USB hub, dude) and BJ's -- where Hayes got
himself 3 USB cables for the unheard-of price of 8 bucks (we laughed, both inwardly and outwardly, when
we saw ONE USB cable offered for the price of $15 at Staples). Regular readers will be pleased to know
that I got two more 12-packs of Inko's teas there and a bigass package of Campari tomatoes. Hayes
delighted at lying in the hammock for some time, while listening to the Monkees Headquarters on the iPod
and iPod speakers. Then we walked to the Quarterdeck and ordered more food than we could eat: steamers
and vegetable stuff, and (for me) Scottish style fish and chips and (for Hayes) the Cajun chunks of seafood.
On Friday, Hayes went back to New York, minus his cooler and wheat germ. But I made sure he had his
two jars of Arthur Marc's hot sauce. And he brought some cheap potato chips from Job Lots in
Peterborough.
Saturday night included a large multipurpose trip to Peterborough (we missed Hayes by a mere 60 hours)
for a Monadnock Music concert (Soozie and Curt and Alan Feinberg and Greg Hesselink, etc.), and our
friend Hilda -- the real estate agent who sold us this house -- invited us to dinner, as she now lives in the
area. So I drove to the pound of my own drummer (to mix metaphors rather violently), took an unknown
shortcut and missed a turnoff, but made it to Hilda's place on time anyway -- lovely salmon, Fat Weasel Ale
from Trader Joes, and salad. And then was the concert, a mere 8 miles distant. Which we all went to.

The concert started with the Brahms horn trio, which, as Beff noted, the acoustic made sound far less heroic
than on the recordings you grew up with, and ended with the Schubert E-flat piano trio (a long and rather
dreary affair with a finale that had a set of variations that tried to titillate you by bringing in the funeral
march music from the second music, as if it were either profound or guffaw-funny). In between were
songiepoos: my own Violin Songs, and two sets of songs by the festival director, James Bolle (five letters
in each name). The performances were all inspecular, and it was nice to see Greg -- whom I've only heard
play modern music in New York, including three pieces of mine -- playing music with tonal centers. I did
not reveal my absence of affinity for Schubert's chamber music to any of those involved. Judy Sherman
was there (big hugs), and there was a man sitting in front of us that looked so familiar, but I could not place
him -- was he an agent in New York? Did I know him from the MacDowell Colony (but a mile distant)?
Does he serve the ice cream at the diner? After my piece he came up to me for congratulations, and I
realized he was the Dean from UMass Dartmouth -- Ken's boss. I also apparently reverted to that panic that
bestrides my face when I meet someone familiar but whose name I don't remember right away, as both he
and Laura Gilbert (went to undergrad together, both taught at Bowdoin same summer) kindly introduced
themselves to me. After the show we all went out for a beer (iced tea for me) at Harlowes, where we all
caught up, and I laid the guilt on Soozie. ("So what have you been doing this summer?" "Sitting by the
phone waiting for your call and checking my e-mail every three minutes to see if you've written back yet.")
Which I then simplified to: procrastination. Which works fine as a lyric replacing "infatuation" in the Rod
Stewart crapfest of a song from the 1980s.
We have now listened to the entire Mitch Hedberg comedy ouevre from the CD and DVD we got, and I
suspect a lot of the punch lines are going to enter our daily routine. "Dude, you have to wait",
recontextualized, provides the necessary bisociation, in our case, to be funny once in a while. Beff prefers
"I bought Ritz because I wanted a cracker, not because it's an edible plate." Maybe I'll start a feature in the
first paragraph.
There is much new space on the Windows station table, as the big, big CRT monitor has now been replaced
by a flat screen. But getting it here led to this week's cosmic question, and my usual fun with what Beff
calls "the service industry." So here we go. Under-17 may want to shield their eyes, or read only every
other letter. Last weekend was tax-free weekend, and I got a few medium-ticket items that were already on
special in order to save a few bucks (I spent it on pickles, but that's a story for another day -- hey, how
come there are nickels and nickle, but not pickels and pickle, except for Pickel as a last name, as in David
Pickel, a composer who graduated from Columbia? Are you still with me?). The Maxtor drive I got at
Staples voiks like a charm. 60 gigs worth of files backed up in less than an hour. Meanwhile, Beff
suggested we get a flat-screen monitor for the Windows computer, as the CRT 17-inch monitor was about 3
or 4 feet deep. I exaggerate, as usual, but what can you do? I didn't feel like making a longish trip to an
actual technology place (as that's where everyone else was headed on this tax-free day), so I went to the
local Radio Shack, browsed the catalog, and settled on a Sylvania 17-inch monitor that was on special AND
included a mail-in rebate (my FAVORITE!). Since this piddle of a store didn't have the monitor in stock, I
did the thing where you buy it and they promise delivery within a few days. I also noted a teeny DVD
player on sale, and ordered that, too.
A story that spills into a second paragraph! So I opted for the Deliver To My House option and not the Pick
It Up at This Store option and was promised delivery Tuesday or Wednesday. On Friday, monitorless and
little DVD playerless, I brought my receipt to Radio Shack to ask when I should expect delivery. Panic on
the manager's face. He said I shoulda had it days ago, and worse, he COULDN'T check on the status of the
item there because he did not order it there -- on Monday he had submitted the order from the Radio Shack
his brother manages in Worcester, and that info wasn't available to him, or to him by phone because that
Radio Shack branch was now closed while it was being moved. Long story short (too late), it took till late
afternoon for me to find out that the merchandise had been shipped from Radio Shack Worcester and was
already delivered to .... Radio Shack Worcester. And of course, as there was now no store there, there were
no alarm bells a-ringin' anywhere. Manager guy physically brought the monitor to the local store for me to
pick up on Saturday, and when I did, he said -- sorry, the DVD player is coming from another guy who gets
here at noon.
Third paragraph! So I asked Beff to get the new Sylvania flat monitor up while I moved the old and very

heavy one to the attic. After getting down from the attic, Beff said, "where's the screw?" In the manual, lots
of shiny happy people were gingerly attaching the monitor itself to the base, without any language
mentioning a "screw", but there was a drawing of a hand making a radial motion. So, sighing, I brought the
monitor and stand BACK to Radio Shack, who looked for a screw but had none, but promised me they'd
reimburse me for a screw if I went to Ace Hardware and bought one. Sigh. While it was downpouring
outside, I tramped to Ace, asked for screw assistance, and held the gfornafratz thing while 8 different
screws were tried. It's a metric size, oh joy, and it cost me 63 cents. I tramped back to Radio Shack, got my
63 cents, went home, and Beff got the sucker up and working. Yes, we do have more space. After lunch, I
went back to get my little DVD player, set it up to charge 8 hours (as it says in the manual), wrote music,
went to Monadnock, etc. Oh yeah, and I fired off an e-mail to the Sylvania monitors site, asking for them to
send me a screw in the fastest and most expensive manner possible. So far there is no response.
Fourth paragraph! Sunday morning I put some DVDs into the player and none of them worked. "DVD
Video" appeared on the screen, and then "reading" and then ... nothing. Sigh. So here I went to Radio Shack
again in another downpour, with all the boxing in hand (lucky thing I instituted that policy of not burning
our boxes), confirmed the DVD player was a dud, and was given the display model (which I could have
been given a week earlier, but noooo...). Which works, and is very, very cool -- not much larger than an
actual DVD, fits in your hand, etc. But why me, Lord? Last time we made a substantial purchase at this
particular Radio Shack was to get new cell phones a year and a half ago, we had to wait while one worker
went to the Acton branch to get one of our phones, and only after I had entered 80 numbers into my phone
book did I realize that MY phone was the one whose microphone didn't work -- as in, I called Eddie Jacobs,
and he said, "Hello? .... Hello? ..... Hello? .... Well, I don't know who this is, but I have your number, and
maybe I'll try to call you back." Eddie heard nothing, but my part of the conversation was actually,
"Eddie! ... Ed! .... Hello, Ed, this is Davy! .... Eddie? ..... THIS ... IS ... DAVY! .... CAN.... YOU.. HEAR ....
ME? .... (word that means) Intercourse."
Stacy, stop calling me Mr. Wordy. By Davy, age 9.
Only scheduled event this week is dinner with Lee and Kate at Taranta, in the North End, for Boston
Restaurant Week. We hear the food is great. Lee and Kate are doing the Rolling Stones Tuesday night, so
dinner is Wednesday. By then, I will have finished a third piano trio. And by the way, the movement names,
right now, are I. Felinious Assault, II. Sostenuto, III. Scherzicle. I don't have a title for the trio yet, and
normally I ask in this space for suggestions, but what I usually get when I ask that is really dumb. So if you
have a possible title -- keep it to yourself.
We watched the series finale of Six Feet Under last night. The series had jumped the shark last year with
the stupid kidnapping episode, but it was nice to be able to say after this episode -- Everybody Dies! Claire
being the last one, in 2083, at the age of 102. With her photographs from age 22 decorating her wall -apparently she didn't have much of a life after the series ended.
This week we have three mini-movies, activated in the yellow text on the left: a much sped-up movie Beff
made of the ferry into Vinalhaven, Maine; a sped-up movie of Cammy rushing up the stairs for some good
ol' fashioned kitty-lovin'; and 3 instances of Sunny jumping for a little cat toy, proof that he's back up to
speed. Pictures include the "School of Philosophy" next to the Alcott House, Hayes at seafood dinner,
another picture from the ferry, Hilda and Beff before dinner, Soozie 'n' me, Soozie 'n' Curt (under that),
James Bolle and Alan Feinberg late at night, fresh-squeezed orange juice next to cartoned (can you tell the
difference?), Cammy in the reddened sunrise light made by the stained glass panel in the living room, and
the cats at the top of the stairs.

AUGUST 29. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was chicken sandwiches and
salad; the chicken had been marinated in a toasted sesame marinade, which I smelled on my fingers all
night. Lunch was tomato sandwiches and ham and cheese Lean Pockets. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THIS LAST WEEK 53.8 and 84.6. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are dinner in the North End, $120.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The frustrated climax from the Tristan prelude.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After many years of work on the essay portion of my

dissertation, the defense finally came in February of 1996. I was in the middle of my Rome Prize year, and
also on deadline to have the PhD by the time I started at Brandeis. When I showed my passport and ticket
on the way out of Rome, the Customs Agent remarked, "ah, vacanza in casa." I made the 3-hour drive from
Salisbury to Princeton, stayed with Lee Blasius, jumped through all the hoops to get the degree, and
showed up to my defense,which began at 5. The first heartening comment was from Peter Westergaard:
"let's get this thing over with. I have to be somewhere at 6:15." The rest of the faculty assembled said, "we
haven't read your paper. Can you give us a summary?" I did. I played the recording of Cerberus, which was
the dissertation piece, and the junior faculty commented on "ironic perturbations". The second reader
remarked that my paper was proof that those who have taught write better papers, without agendas. And, as
all dissertation defenses are, it turned out to be a non-event. Cindy Gessele and Lee and I went to the brew
pub, and that was that. Doctor Davy. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
AND THEN SOME are none. We've avoided the Service Industry this week. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: How come no one has commented on the irony of the current President being an advocate of
Intelligent Design? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: squimp. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, Inko's Peach Tea, olives from the olives station at Shaw's, Wickles.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Essex, Newburyport and environs, including Woodman's. THIS WEEK'S
NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6. CHANGES TO THIS SITE: new piano trio listed on Compositions
page; links broken by Web Easy fixed. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST
WEEK is lots of small flying insects. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 2.
DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 13 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT
BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: no more articles on spectral music. THIS WEEK'S
FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Dunk A. Killjoy. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: original
Peorpcia, Viagra available. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE a pile of vomit, a pile of puke, a pile of that which was spewed, a pile of upchuck.
I have to presume that some students taking my classes are going to discover this page -- as I'm sure its de
rigeur for new students to look up their professors on the web (which I never did because I did not have
complete control of the dimensions of space and time, but I'm a-workin' on it) and read this thing for the
first time this week and wonder how I can be so self-indulgent as to chronicle so many of the exceedingly
dull events in my life. And believe me (actually, regular readers don't have to believe -- they are with the
program), they are dull. I have decided, nerdlike, that it's like The Riddler. Story lines made it clear that the
Riddler couldn't successfully carry off a job unless he sent Batman a clue embedded in a riddle. Similarly,
the only way I can keep my e-mailbox clean of "where the heck is your update?" e-mails is to make new
ones weekly. Plus, it's a "nice" way to spend a Monday morning. Hey, why "don't" I start using more of
these "scare quotes"? After all, they are bound to produce "instant irony". I'll try, but "dear" reader, you'll
have to "bear" with me.
As I predicted in this here very space, I finished my piano trio several hours after posting, entered the notes
into Finale, and got ready to produce parts. I still had no title, and dadburned if I was gonna "call" it "Piano
Trio No. 3", especially as it's really No. 4. So on my VERY early Tuesday morning bike ride (to West
Acton), I gave myself the ultimatum (and there was no space to negotiate): come up with a title by the time
I "return", because it's time to produce scores and parts. So just as I passed the Apple Country Animal
Hospital (our vet), I "decided" on "Inside Story." The first movement "portrays musically" the cats playing,
and the other two movements reference it mercilessly, so it's certainly an "inside job". Hey, it's "better" than
nothing. I decided the piece was 14 minutes long, so don't hate me for being "beautiful".
This means that on Tuesday I made a big, wide trip. First, to "Brandeis" in order to use the "big" paper
cutter so I could cut the 11x17 pages down to 11x14 for the pianist's score. Next, Kinko's in Framingham -now called Kinko's-FedEx -- to bind the "sucker". Then, BJ's for more Inkos, tomatoes, what have you.
And "back". And, finally, the trip to the post office to send the materials to Curt. Who got them and is
already asking questions about notation and editing. Woo hoo. Curt confirmed the September 22
performance at Rice, which I won't make because it is Beff's birthday and because it is in Texas. This meant
that I could spend the rest of the week on "other" things.
"Other things" included writing my 3 Brandeis syllabi (very time consuming, as the holiday schedule this
year is extremely complex -- Music 101 has two fewer meetings than it did the last time I taught it),

fielding e-mails about Brandeis stuff, and slowly weaning myself away from checking my e-mail every five
minutes. Like Bruce Willis, chairman habits die hard. With a vengeance.
But a significant "other" thing was taking advantage of Boston Restaurant Week on Wednesday night. This
included a drive to Alewife station, where we parked, a boring subway ride to Haymarket, a walk to Lee
and Kate's place for hors d'oeuevres (I kinda pigged out on the gorgonzola) and then dinner at the Taranta
restauarant in the north end. They were fun to be with, as usual, and the food was really good. And also as
usual, Lee and Kate seemed on intimate terms with yet another restaurateur -- and by that very
"familiarity," we learned that 90 of the 250 reserved for dinner that night were no-shows. Obviously a side
effect of restaurant week, wherein hicks from the exurbs (me 'n' Beff, for "instance") make reservations at
half a dozen restaurants, check them all out and park at the one that seems the "nicest". All the more food
for ME! Actually, I had the chicken, which was delicious, and which reminded me of why I buy boneless
breasts and not half chickens or whole chickens. Them what had the trout also said their meal was
delicious. But fishy fish. Ewww.
Beff and I also decided to take our yearly end-of-summer little adventure trip to places nearby we've never
seen. Last year it was the central south part of Massachusetts and we made some cool discoveries. This
time Beff decided we'd see the Cogswell's Grant museum in Essex, followed by some random sightseeing
without much leaving the "car". So we stopped first at the music department so I could leave my big
keyboard off (I need it for my "teach-in" tomorrow and they will be closing off the Slosberg lot, those
dummies), and Carolyn advised us to do Woodman's for lunch after the museum -- as they apparently
"invented" fried clams in 1916. So the museum is an old farm house with lots of period stuff and a plastic
porta-potty (as much fun to say as it is to eat) and a couple of Belgian show horses in the barn. We took the
"tour", plowed into an antiques place on the main drag (which was a drag) and went to Woodmans. Which
was a real adventure. The inside was like a seaside resort attraction from, well, 1916, and lots of clam
things to order for lunch and dinner. Drinks come from a separate line from the food, and we both got the
fried clam plates. Said plates included a mess o' fried clams, a mess o' fries, and a mess o' onion rings -- all
of which tasted exactly the same -- the only difference was texture and hardness. I was "heartened" that
Frank's hot sauce was among the available condiments, so I mixed it with ketchup in order to make the
food taste a little less exactly the same. And it worked. Later we drove north on Routes 133, 1A and 97 and
saw the very pretty downtown area of Newburyport, plowed through Haverhill (sort of Fitchburg with less
character), and got back home in time to use the hammock.
And on Thursday we reacquainted ourselves with the "Battle Road" in the Minuteman Park. What is
different this year is that there is now a bridge under a road, where last year there was a menacing looking
sign saying END OF TRAIL GO AWAY I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOU ANYWAY. It was much more of an
exercise than I'd remembered. And I was glad.
On Saturday Carolyn herself came over to rent some hammock time (please hammock don't hurt 'em), and
due to a bicycle mishap (is there such a thing as a bicycle hap?) she got here later than planned. We fed her
olives, pickles, Inko's and beer (oh my!) and struggled mightily to have conversations about things not
related to Brandeis. We mostly succeeded, but that subject does tend to turn into a vortex from which one is
lucky to escape. After Carolyn made it homewards, we took a long walk for exercise, and repaired
homewards, although the location of our home is already fixed (think about it. Now stop. And stop again).
Yesterday was the day I set aside to begin my article on titles for New Music Box. After our very successful
bike ride in the morning (one of our more exotic ones), and mowing the front and far back lawns, I decided
to set up the backyard for casual computer use (that looks weird, but that's okay, because it "is" weird). I
got a 100-foot extension cord, which I plugged into one of the outlets in the garage, plugged a surge
protector into it, plugged my Power Book into it, and typed away. I didn't type "away", because that word
isn't necessarily in the article. So I "typed" away. I had to run inside a few times for internet research
(looking up titles), and I got about 6 or 7 paragraphs written before it started to rain. And then, to my
complete surprise, I finished the article not long after coming inside with it. I was very proud of one joke in
the article, which had to do with a possible Country and Western song title: "Even My Dung Beetle Don't
Like You 'Cause You Ain't S**t". And Beff and I speculated on what life would be like for a cowboy who
had a pet dung beetle. Well, not that much, because we have lives. But we "did".

This week classes begin, and I hop right in with three of them on Thursday. And every Thursday. And every
Monday. And every Wednesday. Tomorrow -- the day that those Brandeis dung beetles are denying me my
usual parking -- I do my Rubber Bands teach-in (a delightful meditation on the notion of tension and
release, and everybody gets a free bouncy ball). Thanks to the parking thing, I'm taking the commuter rail
in and back, and Beff has to drive me there and back, before she goes to Maine for a few days. Meanwhile,
the big classroom in Slosberg (212) has been outfitted for bigtime AV, and I was given 3 possible times to
come to be trained on it -- which, of course, I had to turn down. I can't give a teach-in at the same time I
train on AV equipment, and there's the parking thing, and ... and meanwhile, it actually took quite a bit of
time to write another diagnostic test for Music 101. I was reintroduced to the wonders of white-out (we had
none in the house less than four years old) because I thought the points added up to 139 and they add up to
149 -- not to mention, I forgot that G above the bass staff has 3 leger lines and not 4. But I digress.
This week's pictures include two shots from Minuteman Park, the pumpkin-colored Cogswell's Grant
farmhouse, Woodman's, Beff inside Woodman's, our food at Woodman's, the icky green stuff on the
Assabet (it was supposed to be a picture of a distant Great Blue Heron, and our recycling bin, revealing
mass quantities of Inko's consumed over the weekend. The movies ("yellow" text) are greatly sped up, of
Beff riding by on our Wednesday trip to West Concord, passing through the tunnel in Minuteman Park, and
crossing the commuter rail tracks on the West Concord trip.

SEPTEMBER 5. LABOR DAY. Breakfast this morning was a Smart Ones breakfast sandwich (major
miscalculation on their part: the English muffin part comes out hard as a rock), orange juice, Trader Joe's
grapefruit juice, and coffee. Dinner was super-lean cheeseburgers, salad, and home fries. Lunch was a
Buffalo chicken sandwich, New England Clam Chowder, and Tazo tea at O'Naturals restaurant in Acton.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 52.9 and 86.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are
a new can opener and wok at K-Mart, $31, pickles and vitamins in Groton, $38, and half a tank of gas, $22.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I had to break the window" by Fiona Apple.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When my high school band was rehearsing (I use the word
lightly and ironically) my first piece ever, I was the conductor and Verne Colburn -- being the regular
conductor -- looked on. It was plain to see that lots of the band members didn't dig the piece, as it was
atonal and strange, and they were doggin' it in one of our rehearsals. Verne came to the podium and chewed
the band out (he did this at regular intervals, as it was the only thing that worked), and finished with a
flourish, followed by a devastating silence. Which was broken by me remarking, "You're cute when you're
mad." Verne struggled mightily not to smile, and succeeded. Just barely. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Sylvania Monitors, who, more than two weeks
later, still have not sent the missing screw. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why are Katrina
victims being called "refugees" in the press? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: narkle. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olives from the olive station at Shaw's, Inko's White Tea. DISCOVERY
OF THE WEEK The true extent of the original 1910 wiring of this house. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Performances updated to 2005-6, Signal to Noise
link replaced. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a few small
flying insects and small strands of screen window. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS
WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 23 out of 47. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: competent FEMA administrators. THIS
WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Imani Klopp. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM:
Re: Really Works Vry Good CAIS VIAGRR. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a pine needle, the smaller part of the wishbone, a rolled-up
newspaper, an electric grape.
The federal response to Katrina has been pathetic. Beff and I gave money to the American Red Cross, and
hope that it will do some good. The FEMA response to the ice storm in Maine in 1998 that Beff and I lived
through was excellent. This time, the fund raiser who runs the agency didn't even know that people needed
help. Dear readers, can you tell the difference between Democratic and Republican appointees?
Classes started this week, and I was roarin' and ready. As usual, I taught unimpeachably, though it looks

like this overload I'm teaching is going to wear me out a bit by November, especially with the composer
search going on at the same time. I was a little wrecked by the end of Thursday -- which ended with me 'n'
Justin going over, fine-toothed-combwise, his dissertation piece. On the plus side, the piece breaks a lot of
new ground for him. On the minus side, the weather was gorgeous, we were inside, and the day made the
end of summer official.
A new thing we have is an AV console in the big teaching room -- DVD, CD, and PC with a projector and a
screen. The minus is that there is no equalization (can't turn up the bass or treble), that this console is only
the temporary one, and that the new carpet in the room is also only temporary. All this and I doubt that the
appointees in charge of wiring up the room are Republican fund raisers. However, it was a nifty toy to have
for the two classes I teach in that room, as I got to demonstrate for one of them where they could go on the
web to find the class materials, incidentally showing them the oh-so-crapful picture of me on the Brandeis
web page. I am now endeavoring to make this room's nickname "the Boom Boom Room", and it looks like
it will be an uphill battle. As if the end of summer weren't shocking enough, we already have a faculty
meeting this coming Thursday. The Chair, Mary Ruth Ray, who is calling herself UV Ray now, promised
the meeting would be "short and sweet, like Davy's meetings". Which was funny, because, even though my
memories of my Chairman stint are hazy, I have sharp memories of our faculty talking and talking and
talking in these meetings until someone came in and said, "I'm sorry, but we have the room now."
Most of my so-called productive time this week has been spent producing the materials for Fundamentals
of Music, which will be, at 31 (so far) the largest class I've taught anywhere. For comparison's sake, the
largest I taught at Stanford was 12, at Columbia was 24, and at Harvard was 6. How did they all get to be
multiples of six? As of this morning, I have all the homework, and it has all been put online (since I didn't
make them spend an extra 40 bucks for a workbook), and one of three quizzes ready. I also produced some
nice little handouts with piano keyboards, a grand staff, a map of all the C's on the piano, and a nod to two
very important pitches: A 440 and the 60 cycle hum. For those of you just joining in, I rule.
I also administered the dreaded diagnostic test for first year theory (this was Thursday) and promised
results by day's end on Friday. And this is actually where the fun part of the week began. I would have used
ironic quotes on the word fun, but I'm out of them after last week's ironyfest, and that's quite a narkle to
deal with. As you can see, I'm saving them for actual quotes.
Several weeks ago you would have read here that our insurance company doesn't like houses with original
1910 knob and tube wiring. Not only didn't I know that, I didn't know what knob and tube wiring was. I
still don't, but now I know what it looks like -- and it's like those spider webs in the basement: everywhere
and hard not to notice once you know it's there. Okay, I have to work on that simile. For the first time I
even saw a bunch of it in the attic, too. So the insurance company had sent us a cancellation notice. We
promised, with little halos over our heads, to get the wiring modernized, and we were reinstated. And now
that is happening. But first a little more context.
On Monday, plasterers came to fix the peeled plaster where water gets in in the alcove, and the bulge by the
staircase. They plastered, but did not paint, and it was kind of destructive. Right now those two places are
nice and smooth, but look like graffiti has been incompetently covered up with paint of the wrong color. We
got some paint to paint over it (thus discovering an oriental market next door), and were planning on doing
that painting this weekend after the plaster dried. Fast forward to Friday, at which point Beff was going to
drive from Maine back to Maynard after breakfast.
A pair of electricians arrived at 7:23 am and scoped out this knob and tube stuff. At 8, as I was about to
start grading the Music 101 exams, the head electrician said there were too many boxes in the attic covering
all the important wiring under the floorboards and the junction boxes, and that if they weren't moved, it
would likely double the cost of the job. I took stock of the situation: $2500 to rewire may only buy a tank
or two of gas now, but it's still considerable money if it's double that. And the many boxes in the attic were
not necessary for us to keep -- they were there more out of packrat tendencies than out of actual need. So
from 8 to 9:20 I dutifully carried loads of boxes down two flights of stairs, out the front door, though the
front yard and driveway into the garage. And I sweated -- it was great exercise, and I got a lovely black and
blue mark on my right arm. By 9:20, noticing not a significant dent made, it occurred to me that tossing

boxes out the attic window into the back yard was more efficient, not to mention way easier, and much
more similar to a video game than carrying them out one by one (1 point for getting the box to land straight
up, 2 points for straight up AND a ricochet off the mud room roof, 2 additional points for a full rollover on
the ground and landing straight up). And I finished that part of the ordeal at 11 instead of about 2. I left the
decision making on what boxes we really have to keep (turns out it's the banana boxes and the technology
boxes for things less than 2 years old), and the rest were torn up into bitty pieces by Beff in order that they
may be combined with oxygen to make a byproduct of "heat" in that little ol' thing we call the fireplace.
Complicating matters was a whole mess o' styrofoam and packing peanuts without a home. The decision
was to break the styrofoam up, hustle it into big lawn bags, and put it in the trash. So for about 45 minutes
we had what could only be called a styrofoam stomping party -- we considered inviting Big Mike for the
fun, but there just wasn't enough to last long enough to justify the trip. And over the weekend, Beff spent a
lot of time by the fireplace while bad TV was showing, burning all those boxes. My part of this job was
organizing the saved boxes in the garage. They will be returned to the attic when the rewiring job is done,
likely in October, and meanwhile the Corolla butt will be sticking out of the garage by a foot or two.
Meanwhile, as the metaphorical sound of dollars going down the drain was deafening -- as the cost of this
rewiring was solidifying -- I listened in the distance with whatever the opposite of glee is as I heard
banging and sawing and removal of plaster to get at the old wires. And when I saw the plaster patches
afterwards, I had more of that opposite of glee thing. So now it looks like we're saving the painting until the
end of the job. By which time we may actually have a clue how to paint. Just kidding.
So the Friday afternoon outdoors scene was a surreal one indeed. Beff was organizing and triaging a big
pile of boxes while I finally was able to get to grading the Mus 101 exams, which I did at an Adirondack
chair to the tune of rip, rip, squeeeege, rip, kaflump(tm). Grading the tests was very brainrotmachen, so I
needed a break after every 4 or 5, during which I either transported boxes that made the cut to the garage,
or worked more on the Mus 5 materials. Once or twice the pile had a few blown off it, and I ended up with
3 of the tests in the wrong pile. I finally finished the grading, sent out about 30 or 35 emails with
registration codes for them what passed, and realized only on Sunday that 3 had still not been emailed. Big
d'oh there, pardner, and I don't rule.
For comical effect, there is Saturday's dinner. When Beff is in town, we have this morning ritual. I ask
"what do you want for dinner?" and Beff always replies, "What are my options?" which is ironic, because
the options are always actually the same. This time, the choice was made for stir fry. We shopped, got stir
fry stuff, I marinated some chicken for stir fry and was about to cut the vegetables when I realized -- the
last time we did stir fry the wok looked so digusting that we tossed it. And here we were, planning stir fry
without a wok. So. I drove to K-Mart, staying within local speed limits, picked up a Martha Stewart wok
(she seems to rule everything at K-Mart), realized that the can opener we have is grody, doesn't work that
well, AND dates back to the early 90s, and I got the MOST EXPENSIVE can opener they had -- twenny
bucks. I liked it because it is black and matches the juicer on the counter. When I got back, the wok was
supposed to be "seasoned", which is odd because I thought it tasted fine (rim shot). Boil water in it, then
cook some oil 2 or 3 times. The boiling water thing turned out to be a good idea, because something not too
appetizing-looking peeled off the bottom of the wok. And anyway, I made a nice stir fry and we tried the
Korean teriyaki sauce for the first time. It was, as they say in Minsk, both appetizing and farty.
Other generic things to report this week are that our yearly BMI royalty checks arrived, and mine was
absolutely gigantic -- as "Dream Symphony" brought in a big amount which I didn't have to share with
Peters, who is still sitting on it. Of course, hearing from the electricians what the size of the job was kind of
deflated that check. Karma, I think they call it. Or amrak, if they are talking backwards. I also finallygot
contracts from Peters for the books of etudes (but not one for III?) which I signed, and also sent them
recordings of things they didn't have. By the way, I was asked to supply biographical, photographical and
other materials for their web page, so it looks like they are finally getting on the promotion bandwagon. I'm
going to be famous, and, dear reader, you knew me when. And how. And as.
The andiron, or whatever it is called, in the fireplace has broken -- that's the piece of metal that holds up
whatever you are burning -- so we went in search of it yesterday while combining it with a trip to Trader

Joe's for some essentials. Nobody had the andiron, so that is prompting a trip to Home Depot tomorrow.
While I am there, I am also looking for a tarp to cover the shed in the back yard to delay the rusting of the
roof by a few years, bopping over to BJ's for more Inko's -- as I intend to stock my fridge at work with it -and probably leisurely trips to the mall and Barnes and Noble because I can. Besides, I have to get out of
the house early tomorrow morning when the Maids come to clean, and I have to go to town hall for trash
stickers for our newly vast amount of it.
And finally. It's been 33 years since I last was in the room while the note names on the staff were taught,
and that is soon to become my job. I think All Cows Eat Grass and Every Good Boy Does Fine are in
serious need of updating. I posit for the first Reagan's explanation of global warming: All Cows Emit Gas.
For the second, just random: Eat Goats But Don't Fart. Bass clef lines? How about Gina Bought Doug Five
Ascots? I think F-A-C-E still spells face, right?
The packrattage of the attic included no fewer than 2 cheap stereo systems that no longer worked, 2 broken
scanners, and a broken printer (not included on the original list on "Home" here), which for the life of me I
don't know why we didn't throw out years ago. Plus, plenty of other things that made no sense to keep.
There is photographage below in support of that hypothesis. But first we see the new can opener and its
counter context (which makes a kind of counter statement), the new wok in the process of being seasoned,
the kitties viewing the mess gathering outside, a bookshelf we have unexplainable held on to for all these
years, a spider discovered in a garage window, and Beff in the early stages of organization. The movies
(yellow text) are the boxes burning, Cammy going after a little wind-up toy, and a very small portion of the
styrofoam stomping party.
SEPTEMBER 13. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms vegetarian breakfast sausage patties with
Kraft 2% cheese, Trader Joes Smooth coffee, and Garelick Farms orange juice. Dinner was a Lean Cuisine
salmon microwave dinner concoction that needed more cooking time than stated on the box. Lunch was a
big big salad with Good Seasons dressing and Inko's Blueberry White Tea. Mornigside Farms, Kraft Foods,
Trader Joes, Garelick Farms, Good Seasons, Lean Cuisine and Inko's White Teas have not paid a
promotional fee for mention in this space, though Inko's DID send me a groovissimo t-shirt a while ago.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 45.0 and 87.3. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are
this winter's heating oil (1100 gallons prepaid), $2442, Font Lab for Macintosh, $299, garbage stickers $60,
chimney cleaning $119, and half a tank of gas, $19. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS "God is a DJ" by Pink. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I voted for Jesse Jackson in
the 1988 Massachusetts Democratic primary. He didn't win. A mere five months later, I stood right behind
the man as he speechified on the steps just outside the music building at Stanford. COMPANIES WHO
HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Pro View Monitors (who handle
Sylvania Monitors). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Finale Music,
who authorized 3 installs for my Finale 2006 on 3 computers used only by me. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: Why don't more people use "Let's not play the blame game" as a standard response to
massive screwups? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pangistic. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, Bubbie's Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The fun of teaching music
fundamentals. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE:
Performances by Amy D and Adam M added. New link to Beff's UMaine site fixed on some pages.
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a crumpled up piece of
newspaper. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR
THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 27 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: free hats for composers. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A
SPAM: Matilda Cierra. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Hot Demand Popular Meds At Cheeap money hard .
FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I've done wrong and I wanna suffer for my sins. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the
shadow of your smile, the look of love, the unbearable lightness of being, a vintage WW II army helmet.
Dear readers, as I type this Great Road -- the swatch from Erikson's Dairy to the Mobil station -- is being
repaved. The smell is sweetly sickening and the sounds vintage. Classic, even. Maynard Public Works
apparently subscribes to the classic method of repaving: rip the road up so that it has the capacity to shred
tires, leave it that way for at least a week (two if you play the game right) and start laying pavement down

in the middle of rush hour for maximum inconvenience. Repaving is a popular thing in this part of the
world this week, as on my drive home yesterday I negotiated not one, but two lengthy detours around parts
of Route 117. It only added 5 miles or so to my 14-mile drive, but it doubled the drive time. At least the
detours were better marked than the street signs in Boston. So we have been blessed with a few orange
signs locally that we don't usually benefit from: Rough Road, Bicyclists Take Note, and E.T. Phone Home.
I put that last one in there to see if you were still following along. Oh, and I see there is another step to the
paving that I left out: pave one lane, lay out a line of cones unevenly, and take a lengthy break.
Big Mike (kaching!) and Carolyn (kaching!) tell me that they were speaking of the possibility of a kind of
performance art wherein you do something suitably distinctive to be mentioned in Davy's blog. Well, the
first thing is, I don't think of this thing as a blog but more of a pangistic thing. Beff (kaching!) calls it my
update (rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?), but other times she calls it my blog. But I guess Big Mike
(kaching!) and Carolyn (kaching!) can call it whatever they want. Score so far: Big Mike 2, Carolyn 2, Beff
1.
Now that school is in full swing and I have a full Monday teaching schedule, I think I will be doing my
updates on Tuesdays. I would have to get up at 4 to continue doing it on Mondays, and that would be bad. I
have been introduced to the wonder of TAs, who take two of my classes per week, rescuing me on Monday
and Thursday from severe laryngitis and bummerhood. Wednesdays, though, the effect of teaching an
overload shines through: an hour lecture at 10, an hour lecture at 11 and an hour lecture at 1 followed by an
independent study with Max (kaching!) is pretty taxorific. Compound all that with the suddenly hot
weather here and the massive failure of the air conditioning system in the music building and it spells jello.
I have, though, very much enjoyed teaching fundamentals, as it is a large and very bright-eyed class, and
some newer students have made it decidedly interactive. Meanwhile, Theory 1 is huge this year and we got
a second section authorized. Seung-Ah (kaching!) was hired to teach it, and starting tomorrow I have a
more manageable class size. And in "Undegraduate Composition" (the "r" is missing in the official course
listing) I have asked students to bring in examples of bad prosody. I made this assignment and then realized
I hadn't defined prosody, so there was ova sulla mia facie. I myself am bringing in "Gold" by Spandau
Ballet, which repeats an execrable scanning of "indestructible" countless times.
The real accomplishment of the week is, I guess, the carrying of 11 lawn bags of styrofoam, an old
convertible couch mattress and a big box full of packing peanuts and tent to the street, and sticking 23 $2
trash stickers on them and our usual garbage. It was fun watching the garbage truck linger as it picked
everything up. Okay, I made that part up. It wasn't fun. But I watched in case they decided not to take some
of it. Another accomplishment, which is a side benefit of the same large drive, was a trip to Home Depot to
get a tarp to cover the storage shed, along with rope and pegs to keep it down. We measured the roof and I
got a tarp that was billed as 2 inches longer per side than my measurement -- which is not how it worked in
real life, of course; like Milton Babbitt, it's a little short. The typical thing was that the tarp was in a box
marked "12' by 9' tarp!" and the package listed the measurements as 11'6" by 8'6". I had been sent by Beff
(kaching!) in search of a new andiron for the fireplace -- the old one broke and the hardware stores said
they don't carry fireplace stuff until the end of September -- and after a 3- or 4-mile trek through the store I
got the answer: we don't carry fireplace stuff until the end of September. So Beff (kaching!) and I installed
the tarp on Friday, and it was remarkably stress free. And you can hardly tell there is a tarp there at all.
Which is why I'm doing the telling.
Ash-Go came and cleaned the chimney on Friday and contracted to put a cover on the chimney later in the
month. Two more electrician vi$it$ have been scheduled, the second of which is October 3, for those of you
playing along at home. Geoffy (kaching!) will be here to let them in that day, as I leave for work around
6:30. I have been doing whatever the opposite of admiring is to the plaster patches they left where they had
to get to the old wires. I was delighted to hear, by the way, from the head electrician that previous
electricians had left a pull string in the attic, which will make their jobs easier. I nodded dutifully, not
having any idea what he was talking about.
For the first time ever, I received an e-mailed "Response to Blog" from Big Mike (kaching!) and the
pressure was on. He did give me some nice new mnemonics for the lines and spaces of the staff (Even God
Believes Darwin, Fool), and I noted in Fundamentals that mnemonics is my favorite word that begins with

a silent "m". As they said on the Sopranos, mno problem, dude. I believe the equilibrium of the universe is
maintained, though, by Eddie Jacobs (kaching!) who adds an un-silent initial "m" to "Bye Bye" at the end
of his phone conversations. Yes, he does say "Mbye-bye!" So no m's are out of work, nor have any been
harmed in the teaching of musical lines and spaces. Geoffy (kaching!) contributed the bass clef lines:
Groovy Bassists Do Funk Albums. The cool thing about that is, it's how he talks.
After a long bike ride with Beff (kaching!) on Friday -- the one by the nature viewing area in Stow -- we
did lunch at the Airport Cafe at the Minuteman Air Field, which was totally delish. We continued to obsess
on the andiron situation, and we actually asked the waitress for a yellow pages so we could look up
fireplace stores. She did the lookin', in fact, but all the stores were rather far away. So instead we had fun.
And Beff (kaching!) had to go back early on Saturday for rehearsals for a concert next weekend -- I will go
to Maine for that -- and early in the morning we took our old stereos and scanners etc. from the attic to the
monthly Bigass Trash day at the Maynard Recycling Center. As usual, the workers scavenged, keeping in
this case the old crappoliforic speakers. I winced a little when they tossed the old stereo a not insignificant
distance into the shovel part of a big piece of machinery until I remembered -- it was a piece of crap.
After Beff (kaching!) left, I indulged myself in a bit of nostalgia -- I made a font, thereby learning Font
Lab. Fontographer was never updated to run in OS X, so I got this one, which has some of the same
features, but enough of a different interface to make some of the work maddening -- not unlike the
difference between Finale and Sibelius. Or totally unlike it, I forget which. This was a finely detailed font
with a lot of fixin' to do, so I had that rare thing where I look up and notice it's 1:20 am without realizing it.
Boy, talk about ova sulla facie.
Actually, the first bit of business after Beff's (kaching!) departure was lunch in Hudson at the Horseshoe
Pub with Big Mike (kaching!) just as a way to get my Buffalo wing fix. We sat in the patio outdoors, I also
had some wheat beer, and we had a waitress with a voice not unlike that of the prostitute in "The Man With
Two Brains" who keeps saying "I Don' Mind!". And pencil-thin, sculpted eyebrows that looked like runes. I
don't think we talked about work very much, but who can know? Later I checked on the big bridge for the
bike path going over the Assabet, and it's still not back up yet. Then I took a catnap, which turned into a 2hour affair.
It has been dry again, and the water level of the Assabet is back down, thereby once again revealing the
face of the Ben Smith dam. On my way to view the dam, I met the new owner of the house once occupied
by the dog Samson, and his dog Molly, a large orange retriever-type mutt. When I was doing yard work
(mostly pulling out vines), Molly approached me as if I had a whole bunch of bones formerly reserved for
Samson but now available for any dog. And she was right. So with the new ownership of this house, that
means all four houses abutting us to the east have changed owners since we moved in. And that makes us
the Senior Landowners on this part of the block. I may have to have a ribbon made up that says that. And
wear it ostentatiously as I parade by all of their front porches. Okay, I'll stop now.
This weekend I was struck by a cleaning and tidying up frenzy. I rearranged the bookshelf of scores and
filed about 4-1/2 years of sketches into one pile. They are on 11x17 paper, two systems of 4 on each page,
and the pile measures 2-5/8 inches thick. Which is impressive. I then finally got to the 4 years of junk that
has accumulated in my car, discovered that I have 5 road atlases in it, and a pile of CDs (kaching! -Carolyn's initials get credit here) that was most impressive. I had TWO of "Tower of Power compilation 2",
thinking I had lost the first one obviously. And about 8 CDs without cases and, coincidentally, about 8
empty CD cases. So dear readers, it is no longer disgusting for you to drive in the back seat of my car.
And alas, some leaves are starting to turn. Mostly on the Route 117 detours, but they are turning
nonetheless. Yesterday, by the way, was a hot one and the first time in a month I had to turn the air
conditioner on. My exercise ride was the West Concord ride, which was multifaceted: BofA ATM to
transfer funds, CVS to renew a prescription, Dunn Oil to prepay for our oil, the ride to West Concord, the
purchase of 3 jars of Real Pickles, the ride back, to CVS to pick up the prescription (Lisinopril), and back.
The weather was so nice I spent some time on the hammock instead of writing this thing. And the rest is his
story.

Pro View monitors -- the company that handles Sylvania monitors -- finally came through with the missing
screw. I had wanted to embarrass them into sending it the fastest and most expensive way possible (don't
get mad -- get irrational), and what they did was stick it in a regular envelope with 37 cents of postage. Of
course, the screw being a screw, the envelope ripped and the Postal Service had to stick the whole thing in
one of their rescue envelopes. It was hilarious, when you come right down to it.
Today's movie (yellow text on the left) is the long downhill portion of the Nature viewing area bike ride,
sped up greatly for your convenience. The pictures are of the CDs (kaching!) rescued from my car, the
screw from Pro View as it got to me, the Ben Smith dam, the newly installed tarp (see yellow pegs?), Big
Mike (kaching!) at lunch, and the top of our sickly front yard maple tree, already turning.
Final score: Beff 7, Big Mike 5, Carolyn 4, Geoffy 2, Max 1, Eddie 1, Seung-Ah 1. Amy D and Adam M
(from credits) 1 each.

SEPTEMBER 20. Breakfast this morning is coffee and orange juice. Dinner was a Smart Ones Creamy
Tuscan Chicken microwave meal, and real lemonade. Lunch was a big salad with European salad lettuce,
campari tomatoes, and Trader Joe's balsamic vinaigrette dressing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS
LAST WEEK 53.6 and 85.8. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none! POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: I had a $100 stereo cassette player in my bedroom when I was in high school -- before
the days of boom boxes -- and I separated the speakers so that they were as far across the room from each
other as possible. I delighted at the cheesy stereo demonstration cassette from Radio Shack, and when
friends were over, delighted even more at playing Jesus Christ Superstar -- as mean ol' Caiaphas
monopolized the left speaker AND had a really low voice. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Where's the beef? THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: cridden. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: none! DISCOVERY
OF THE WEEK Gasoline in Maine is 30 cents cheaper. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10:
9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Broken links on teaching page fixed, new names on home page. FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 8. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE
OF MUSIC this week is 21 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: rationing of the octatonic scale. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A
SPAM: Art Butts. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: fw. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I wanna make a
mistake. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE last week's homework, a microphone cable, that thing you do, twelve of them.
Dear readers, the romance of returning to teaching is over, as this is the week that more time is spent
outside the classroom correcting and grading homework than in the classroom actually teaching. Finding
the same old mistakes (such as writing the leading tone to D# as D instead of C double sharp, or equating
an augmented fourth and a diminished fifth) is not so nostalgic as it is frustrating. Alas, I'm the sort of guy
who feels the need to give a mini-lecture in red pen on the page to mistakes of this nature. At this rate,
homework may soon be returned with discs containing Power Point presentations about concepts not yet
osmosed. But then again, I may be exaggerating. In any case, the real challenge of teaching this week was
presenting, in both first year theory and fundamentals, the real difference between enharmonically
equivalent notes. I dropped the name Mariah Carey, and I'll leave the reader's imagination for how that
happened.
There was actually a bit of traveling this last weekend, as I drove to Bangor (and back) for Beff's faculty
group concert at U Maine opening this year's concert season. I had planned on driving up Saturday and
back on Sunday, but them what make predicted the former Ophelia to be having her way with the state of
Maine on Saturday, so I drove up a day early. While there, there was no want of things to do, but I did seem
to spend far too much time asleep. Perhaps it was the humidity in the air, perhaps it was the lack of my
usual gastronomic obsessions in the refrigerator (I had gone to a convenience store for pickles, which
basically got inhaled), or perhaps it was the wait time as I did auxiliary e-mail by dial-up. I am STILL
weaning myself off of chairman-grade e-mail needs, and felt proud at restricting myself to three logons per

day -- which, given that it was dial-up, was like about ten or something.
I had come a little earlier than expected, and so I took a roundabout way in, passing through Brewer and
stopping at Marden's -- a fell-off-the-truck kind of surplus store -- where I hoped to find gastronomic
obsessions. My original primal cravings for stuffed olives came from jalapeno-stuffed olives I got there
maybe eight years ago. All that was available were sugary cookie substances, but I did find a jar of vitamins
and a 16-pack of alkaline batteries, the latter of which was to come in handy. And to Birch Street I came,
admiring the tastefulness of decorating in a house where my preferences carry no weight. Beff was at work
taking a student to buy a clarinet mouthpiece, so I took a walk in the neighborhood, encountering again the
Hose Fire something museum (nobody ever seems to go in there) and the massive headquarters (probably a
room) of Coffee News -- who make the placemats with little tidbits of local gossip that you get at local
diners and other fine dining establishments. Meantime, Beff and I lounged in the afternoon, she had to do a
7pm rehearsal, and after that we drove to Old Town to go to the Chocolate Grill. I like the place because of
the deep fried pickles, so we had those (they were greasier this time than they have been before), shared a
blackened tuna salad, and had some soup.
Our house in Bangor (which you can view through the Our House links) is a bungalow from the 1920s or
30s, and it's well built and designed -- not to mention nicely decorated. I delight in going into the basement
and seeing both the old furnace -- a tin man construction with octopus arms going into all the rooms -- and
the new one -- forced air heat. Though it's a small house, there are actually three heating zones and thus
three thermostats -- great if you like that European thing of sleeping where it's cold and dressing where it's
warm (in my case that would be sleeping in Montreal and dressing in Florida --- rim shot). The water table
is high, as it's just up the street from the Penobscot River (say that five times fast), so when it rains, plenty
of water gets into the basement. Since Saturday was Ophelia's day to have her way with the area, I finally
got to experience Beff's story about the house -- every 45 minutes or so you heard the sump pump kick on
and start a-flushin'.
So in the midst of the substantial rain, and after Beff's sound check at noon, we drove to the Sea Dog for
lunch. It was really quite good, and Beff got her old standby the Teri Tuna sandwich. I actually have
forgotten what I got, so I'll have to get back to you. The original plan had been to follow lunch with a walk
around downtown Bangor, but the rain and wind were a little strong for that, so there was just a brief trip to
the library (largest number of books per capita in America), the Grasshopper Shop, and a used book store.
Followed by a muggy afternoon reading and sleeping. With sump pump interruptions.
The concert was well-attended, and Beff carried out her customary multiple functions. During her leave, the
hall had been wired for recordings, apparently by doofi (plural of doofus) -- the permanent microphones are
against the walls on the side, at an angle to capture plenty of ambient sound, but not much of the original
sound. So Beff set up her DATman, and used -- ka-zing! -- the batteries I had bought at Mardens. One of
the features of the concert was the newly rebuilt Steinway, which was not yet ready for prime time -- the
Bflat below middle C was for all intents and purposes dead, and even full-stick it sounded like it was full of
cotton balls. Several pianists struggled valiantly with it, and one actually managed to get some music out of
it. Just about every possible faculty member played something on the concert, and the Debussy Sonate for
flute, viola, and harp was simply called "Trio" on the program. Beff's new piece for flute, blass clarinet and
marimba was performed but with some major problems (marimba player skipping three lines in the part, for
instance), so I didn't get the full effect of the piece. I am hoping to hear a tape of an actual performance if
they can get a recording session together.
Meanwhile, during these times when Beff is away from Maynard for long bits, she has expressed an
interest in having cat pictures up here. I have done her one better -- on Sunday after my return, I used my
little camera to make action movies of the cats to the extent that was possible. I then imported them all into
iMovie (or iMovie HD as it now calls itself), and burned an autoplay DVD so that Beff can just stick it in
and watch it while she grades. Two subsets of that movie have been put here, greatly sped up, in the yellow
text on the left. Meanwhile, out of sequence I can report that I drove back Sunday morning through drizzle
to greatly changeable weather in Maynard, finished the grading for Fundamentals (most common score:
perfetto), and dove headfirst into recommendation writing season.

While in Bangor, I discovered that the Windows computer there has the data files for this page as of April,
2003. Since Idon't archive these updates (our correspondent in Iceland once asked why not), I will give you
the text of that one, for the sake of nostalga, and especially for the sake of taking up space.
APRIL 1. Happy April Fool's Day. Today's breakfast was Pepperidge Farm Potato Wheat toast with marmalade, coffee, and orange
juice, at the MacDowell Colony. Later in the day (today) I drove home for kitty doody duty and to deal with a large pile of e-mail
that's hard to do at MacDowell, where the line for the e-mail computer stretches around the block. Even though technically there are
no blocks at MacDowell. Guest breakfast is Laura Hendrie (from Brooklin, Maine currently), who had two sunnyside up eggs, a
poached egg, toast, orange juice, and tea. Laura is a novelist.
During my time at MacDowell I have taken a week off for Amy's events, including an outreach event at the MacDowell Colony for
students of the Well School, colonists, and Board members, and two concerts. And a snowstorm, naturally, during that week. I have
started and finished a fairly dense 9-minute first movement for string orchestra (213 bars at a fast tempo and one section that repeats),
written 60 bars of a scherzi movement that I tossed out, written another 18 bars that I also threw out, and 40 bars of a scherzi
movement that I am apparently going to keep -- even though it is screamingly fast music. I probably won't finish the scherzi
movement before I leave MacDowell (April 11), but there will be at least one more update of NEWS before I go to Yaddo (April 17).
Amy's concerts were all fantastic.
A very favorable review of Amy's etude disc appeared in the Chicago Tribune on Sunday, and it is now quoted on page 2 of Reviews.
Meanwhile, the fellow artists at the MacDowell Colony have given nights of presentations in spurts -- a week without a presentation
followed by ten consecutive nights of them, etc. It is always amazing to see how many fabulously gifted people there are in the world
that you haven't heard of. Last night, it was a playwright with some great monologues; the night before, two very different and
fascinating poets. And the night before that, a very young and gifted visual artist. The fun never stops. For the record, I'm presenting
Ten of a Kind on the night of April 7. I plan to serve Scotch.
Beff has been away from Maynard for the last several weekends, gracing this house on Thursday night for the first time in a very long
time. In the mean time, she played host in Maine to Hayes Biggs, who was the distinguished visiting composer, and went to Eddie's
festival at ECU in North Carolina, where Soooooooozie and Chris Oldfather did a whole mess of her songs. Beff's travel agent booked
her to Greenvile, South Carolina instead of Greenville, North Carolina, and she claimed not to be fazed by the extra six hours of
driving that caused her.
It is cold here again, and I have built a fire. Even snow is predicted for this afternoon. This winter and spring suck. Though the
warmest temperatures here in Maynard this season have been 68.9 degrees, twice. It was 62.3 in Peterborough.
NEWS FLASH; I have discovered and extracted more Buttstix. Picture to appear when they are identified, cleaned, and labeled.
Pictures today are from my backyard (the crocuses, from last Saturday), from a practice room at Brandeis (that's Amy and a piano
reflecting the ugly-ass admin buildings across the way from the music building) and from the MacDowell Colony. The snow picture
represents how much was there the day I got there, and the sunset shots were taken last night.

I find it kind of funny ("It is interesting to note...") that I referred to the movement I was writing as a
"scherzi" movement.
On Thursday there was a party in the music building for the department with a motley assortment of people
and a wide variety of foodstuffs that were Carolyn-chosen and -procured. I took my little camera to record
the event, and found out that it sucks for this kind of event -- lighting from above that is not usual room
darkness or outdoor darkness. Just about every one was out of focus, and I was able to salvage maybe three
from about 30 taken. Thankfully, food -- which doesn't move very much until you eat it -- did not go all out
of focus on me.
Oh yes, while I am reporting out of sequence -- before the concert on Saturday, we went to an art opening
on the U Maine campus, at Carnegie Hall (the "practice, practice" jokes flew in abundance). Beff said that
she usually saw conceptual art there, but this exhibit was a more straightforward one of portraits of "truth
tellers" as protest to the current political climate. Basically, plenty of really big postage stamps with writing
on them. There was, of course, reception-type food, and when I poured myself a little plastic of wine, I
heard "that'll be $3.50" from an arty type who was several miles from any sign that said "Wine: $3.50". So
as not to embarrass myself (note to self: wine at music receptions is free; wine at art receptions is not; wine
at theater receptions is yet to be determined), I ante'd up and calculated the 63 cents per gulp that I was
spending so that the putrid taste would seem less putrid. I get the feeling, based on my quick quality control
investigation, that I paid for the whole bottle and everybody else got free wine. And for the first time in
some time, Beff and I had a substantial discussion about the intent and quality of the art. We Gingriched.
This afternoon the School of Creative Arts hosts a barbecue, and I am a celebrity chef. Indeed, color posters

with a cheesamundo picture of me have been up in the music building for some time ("Slosberg?
Schoenberg? Give me a hamburg!") and yesterday I wore my chef's hat to teach. This may be the first time
in history that the minor scale was introduced by someone wearing a chef's hat. And tomorrow I get to play
Happy Birthday in minor for the sake of effect. I rule.
This week there are the two little cat movies in yellow text, and pictures all from Maine, including: the old
octopus furnace in the basement, Carnegie Hall, a rain splatter from outside the Sea Dog, the Hose
Museum, the remains of our salad at the Chocolate Grill, and Liz and Denny at the reception after the
concert.

SEPTEMBER 27. Breakfast this morning is veggie microwave sausages, coffee and a wee bit o' orange
juice. Dinner was Hebrew National 97 percent fat free hot dogs with a fireful bunch o' condiments, and
limeade. Lunch was a lot of tomatoes and a little lettuce in a salad with Good Seasonings salad dressing.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 39.7 and 82.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "ABC" by the Jackson 5. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are materials for
some house rewiring, $177; house lighting and fireplace hardware, $78. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: When we were grad students, we lived in half a house on Wiggins Street with a small
back yard. At the back of that yard was a tree that formed a canopy. In warm weather, I got into the habit of
taking a chair and music paper and a pencil into the little canopy and writing (it was my violin concerto at
the time). I'm not sure if Martler and Beff ever used it, but it did come to be known as the Composer
Canopy. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are gas
stations. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is, again, Inko's Healthy
White Tea, who are sending specimens of their new flavors. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY:
Where do flies go in the winter? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: alunt. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto salad, various kinds of pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the
Wachusett Reservoir Dam, and my free web space at Brandeis. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1
AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: A few new recordings referenced, new links on Home, a basket
of fries. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a little fraying of
computer room bags. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
WEEK: 6. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 3 out of 47. WHAT THE
NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Napoleon Dynamite lunchboxes for
everybody. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Doctor. SUBJECT OF
THAT SPAM: The Ultimate Online Pharmaceutical. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I can't help it,
the road just rose up behind me. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bag of alunt, sixteen clothespins, a Red Sox reliever, a
hummingbird feeder.
Dear readers, crunch time has arrived and still I spend time for your pleasure, or whatever the opposite of
pleasure is, writing these here updates. It is less than a week to the application deadline for the composer
position, and then there is not much time for the committee to examine the materials. But dagnabbit, we
will, and it will be good. I spent a large portion of Sunday reading applications and listening to submitted
materials, and I got through fewer than I had anticipated, but that was fine. I found out a lot about quite a
few composers who had been unknown to me, some of whom are worthy of our consideration. The only
drawback to spending that time was the backache from picking out the materials, reading the files, bringing
the recordings to the CD player, etc. Since what goes on internally is confidential, I can't bring up specific
numbers, but I am impressed that I could imagine some people unknown to me as future colleagues. What
my colleagues will think I do not know. I have read about half of the applications that have arrived, but I
imagine that will be a much smaller proportion by week's end. Currently Carolyn (ka-ching!) is fielding emails asking the name of the Chair of the search committee. I'm not sure how she is responding.
I do wish to say that, despite the great amount of time it takes to correct and grade homeworks now, this is
still rather an enjoyable teaching time, and fundamentals remains fun (to be almost alliterative). Yesterday I
apportioned triads among various portable keyboards and the classroom piano, taught students how to play
them and play them at my signal, and when we were fully rehearsed, we played along with "She Drives Me
Crazy" and "You're Still the One." Then I started in on intervals. Meanwhile, in first year theory I

introduced species counterpoint, and I still have a little ways to go before I will have crammed those heads
to bursting with information. I didn't get to the no consecutive semitones in the same direction or no
outlining tritones rules, but I will, Oscar, I will. Last week I ended up by doing a figured bass realization in
C# minor (the class's choice) that was killa. Totally killa. I still got it, yo.
Meanwhile, I also did a few font characters for Uncle Max for engraving flute fingerings onto scores, and it
was way easier for me to do them than explain font structure, hinting, path directions, and font formats -not to mention the editing interface. Yo, I rule, I still got it, yo.
And on Tuesday I did my stint as Celebrity Chef a-flippin' burgers for the School of Creative Arts barbecue,
which was just a little frustrating because nobody got enough of anything -- not enough starter fluid, so the
cooking started late while a bunch of strangers, plates held high, looked at me accusatorily for not heaving
burgers onto those plates, and not enough buns or burgers. Indeed, there was about half as much as last
year's, and it ran out by the time chorus was dismissed. So I left the area, plate held high, eating the last,
bunless burger. I smelled like smoke for the next two days (I told people it was honeysuckle).
Meanwhile, in the sacred time with Beff, we got to do Quarterdeck seafood for her birthday dinner (as
Thursday had been her birthday) on Friday, and some circumnavigations of bodies of water on Saturday.
We took some pictures of the Quarterdeck wine list so as to show Lee Hyla what great wines he said they
had (he responded that the wines he liked are no longer on the menu), and did an all-appetizer dinner. I kept
asking the waitress what sort of free stuff we got for people with birthdays (she should have responded that
everybody has a birthday, but, you see, she does not know me), but all we got was beer, chowda, salad,
Buffalo tenders, and scallops wrapped in bacon. During down time, Beff captured some audio to her
computer -- she couldn't get the 828 to work in OS X, so we had to start from flippin' System 9, and this all
happened while I was at Brandeis for Jeremy's orals (he passed). For some reason, we went to Papa Gino's
for lunch on Friday (actually the reason was that the electricians were working on the kitche), and then
moseyed to Ace Hardware for a fireplace brush and Shaw's for some food and firewood and whatever else
appropriate began with "f". Later we rented Napoleon Dynamite at the video store, which we watched
Friday night.
Mindy Wagner had told me I simply HAD to see this movie -- and I accidentally caught the last 20 minutes
on HBO, used a catchphrase on Beff ("I caught you a delicious bass"), and she grudgingly agreed to watch
it. Some students in my composition class knew the movie, and they seemed either to love it or hate it,
though everyone certainly knew the tag lines ("are you drinking 1% because you think you're fat?"). So we
hunkered down, watched it, found out it was an MTV films release, and I rather liked it. Beff, not so much
(she later said that one line from "Weeds" was funnier than all of Napoleon Dynamite). Truly, it was a
bunch of silly skits loosely put together, but the characters were so -- cringe-inducing -- that I found it
mostly irresistible. On the other hand, there is definitely something wrong with me. And it's not just the
earlobes.
So to celebrate the gorgeosity of Saturday's weather, we decided on a little hike around the pond at the
nature viewing area in Stow/Harvard, which turned out to be rather a long hike, and then thought we'd take
a little drive around the Wachusett Reservoir to see if there were any scenic areas. After the hike, of which
at least a mile was on the road, we popped into the grocery cum orchard stand on the corner of 117 and 110
in Bolton, and delighted at the great variety of fresh-picked produce and exotic condiments, not to mention
the ready availability of rest rooms. I got a bag of really big tomatoes and a bag of really small plums, as
well as various experiments -- such as "Bone Sucking Sauce" -- and we packed up and drove through
Clinton, etc., as we made our way around the reservoir. After a full revolution, we found the public parking
area right where the dam is, walked down to mortal level, took pictures, and walked back up. On our way
back up, a woman asked us if the Red Sox were playing that day, and I made something up ("yes", I think I
said).
After all that impromptu hiking, we thought we'd cruise into Hudson and find someplace not called the
Horseshoe Pub for lunch, and to that end I called Big Mike (ka-ching!) for advice. But alas, he not there. So
we drove up Route 85 to see what was there, and we ended up at Applebees, where I got the Asian chicken
wrap and Beff didn't. After a brief trip to TJ Maxx, we came home and did really, really important things.

For instance, following Carolyn's (ka-ching!) example, I figured out that not only was I entitled to free web
space as Brandeis faculty, I could actually use it. By navigating deep, dark crevasses within the Brandeis
site, I was able to find how much I get (a gig), how to get to it, what it is called, and how to send files to it
-- to that end, I downloaded Fugu (as Carolyn (ka-ching!) told me, it was the fish Homer Simpson almost
died eating), which is just an FTP program. And I used it to transfer some files, most of them sound files, so
that in the future when people ask for perusal CDs I can just direct them to URLs instead. Meanwhile, I
invited Beff to put some video samples in that space to reference from her web page, and we stuck one
small example there. You can find that on Beff's page.
Also on Friday was Electricians Rewire The House And Make Many New Holes day #2. At one point, as
many as (as in,exactly) three electricians were a-workin', installing new lighting in the basement, fixing
most of the ceiling lights and outlets in the first floor, and snipping out ALL of the old knob and tube
wiring. Of course, by doing that, they cut off electricity to the ceiling fans on the second floor, as well as to
the guest room, the bathroom, and to one outlet each in the computer room and master bedroom. Two of the
outdoor lights are also now still not connected. They made a quick exit, very slightly apologizing for the
inconvenience of leaving us in the dark for ten days, and leaving with such ferocious haste as to create a
Doppler shift (the lead guy, a tenor, became a baritone on the way out). So in order for us to get by with
some normalcy until October 3 -- and to have a bunch of superflous electricity stuff cluttering up the place
after that date -- I went to K-Mart for extension cords and camping-type reading lamps (you know, the ones
that are supposed to look like upright lamps with shades but are a one-piece plastic construction that look
more like green and white mushrooms), but they had only the extension cords -- I got two 15-footers (and a
bunch of Temptations cat treats, way cheaper there than at Shaws). Acton Ace Hardware, on the other hand,
had bigass camping flashlights and TWO of those kinds of mushroomy reading lamps. While I was there,
carrying an armful of stuff, I noticed that the fireplace stuff was out, so I got an andiron, too. So one
extension cord goes from the one working outlet in the bedroom to the side that has our clocks and reading
lamps. The other connects from the free outlet in thecomputer room to another 9-foot extension cord to
power the fan that keeps our bathroom fresh-smelling. The mushroom lamps were installed in the guest
room and hallway. The bigass flashlight now faces up on the toilet for nighttime convenience. And the
other extra flashlight is a general one for the sake of navigation in the hallway. First and only visitor to
avail himself of this major D-battery regaliafest: Geoffy (ka-ching!). I am now used to highstepping
upstairs so as not to trip on the extra wires (indeed, give me a baton and a hat that makes me look like a Qtip and I'd be a dead ringer for a drum major), and Geoffy will have to do the same.
I also got the first edit of Beff's and my tangos from Amy D's tango project, and we are very happy. You can
hear mine from somewhere secret on this website, or by already knowing where to go to hear it. Expensive
microphones and an in-tune piano go a long way towards making Davy not a dull boy.
And so as I said -- on Sunday I drove into Brand-x to look over applications, and while there met with a
grad student, for whom I am not the reader, to look at his paper before he sends it to his first reader -- thus
making me both his pre-reader and his second reader (once again, dear readers, Davy explodes conventions
of cardinality and ordinality). And then instead of making do in my office with the applications, I took them
home, and gave myself several degrees of backache reading them and listening to them. All this while
watching the Red Sox (won) and Patriots (won) and tripping over at least one cat whenever I went into the
kitchen for a drink. Cammy found the box holding the applications quite interesting, and when it became
half empty, he delighted at making it half cat.
My piano trio "Inside Story" was to be premiered this week. It was to be at Rice University, in Houston, on
Thursday. We all know what happened instead. Incredibly, Curt, the violinist, e-mailed to apologize for it
not happening, as if he could control the weather (if he could, he's getting paid WAY too little).
All the little movies that have appeared in this space since June are now archived in my Brandeis web
space. Ask me where, and I'll tell you. Meanwhile, I was hard pressed to come up with a good one for this
week -- every time the cats were being cute, I went for the camera and by the time I returned they were
lying down and sleeping (I'm pretty slow these days). But I did get a piece of one frantic playing episode,
which is short enough that I did not have to speed it up -- see yellow text up there on the left. The pictures
are of the pond we walked around, and a bit of the trail, a big ceramic apple outside the market in Bolton

that has the downtown of Bolton, such as it is, painted onto it, a fountain at the bottom of the Wachusett
dam (the rainbows made by the water are much more evident in person), and a panorama cobbled from 5
shots of the dam looking south, west, and north (into Clinton). The figures in the picture are, in real life,
still frozen in that position.

OCTOBER 3. Breakfast this morning was coffee and orange juice and a few swigs of pure lemon juice.
Dinner was some disgusting fast food. Lunch was California rolls and some lovely Tom Yum soup made
from a mix purchased at the Asian market in Acton. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK
39.4 and 74.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Lady Marmalade" by the
Christina Aguilera et al. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are house rewiring expenses, $1177, and a new
cap for the chimney in which the fireplace sits, $275. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The
day after I announced to my Music 123 class at Stanford that I had gotten engaged (it happened over the
phone), my class brought champagne and cookies to class. I didn't ask how 9 underage underclassmen
managed to get booze to bring to class -- instead, we drank up. Eventually, I tried to give my prepared
lecture, and nothing happened. So we enjoyed the sun. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are any place we looked for a ketchup squeezer that didn't have
one. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is, again, Inko's Healthy White
Tea, who sent specimens of their new flavors. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What is the
difference between pillbugs and sowbugs? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
interadsinklamaniationousness. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hamburger dill pickles, real
lemonade and limeade, jalapeno stuffed olives (nobody locally carries the Santa Barbara brand any more)
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK my old piece "Terra Firma" sucks a little less than I had remembered. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: upcoming thing at Walnut
Hill School added. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 8. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 12 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Martian Counterpoint" ring tones. THIS WEEK'S
FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Dervla Barth. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: defend
Phharrmaceutical. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I had to break the window. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE some
overlwrought interadsinklamaniationousness, a toilet, three years' worth of lovingly collected snot with a
rubber band around it, a pair of scissors that magically appears in your ears.
A Monday update! Yes, dear readers, I am somewhat trapped in my Maynard existence today, as Brandeis
operates on a Tuesday schedule and the electricians are here doing Phase III of the rewiring. The head
electrician guy -- the guy with the Doppler shift as mentioned last week -- is out with a bad back, so the
namesake of the electric company is subbing for him. Thus, I have to be around to clarify what has been
scheduled to happen here. I also asked for dimmers to be restored where there were dimmers before, and
that meant a re-rewiring of the paddle fan in the dining room: as it had been set to a regular switch, and a
dimmer would damage the fan part of the light. Oh, lawdy. And I had to mention the extra outlets we'd
ordered, what switches were still off, etc., and make a request as to the first things to be rewired upstairs.
And I did all of that, but I have to make sure we're getting what we want .... I'm pretty sure they won't
finish today, alas. So that probably means more D-battery powered lighting and drum major high-stepping
over extension cords for a while, dontcha know. Soon, though, I will go out for some staples. And when the
temp rises about 70, I'll correct the rest of my Music 5 stuff. Outside. In the Adirondack chairs. With
pillbugs and sowbugs.
And meanwhile, the deadline for the composer position at Brandeis has passed. Precisely half the
applications received as of Saturday were taken home by committee members to review, and that means
that yesterday, in my office, I made it up to half of the current pool. Again, dear readers, numbers and
details are confidential, but I suppose I can say that: it's a strong pool, there are several very good
composers who were unknown to me that I now know, and fully two thirds of the applicants ignored the
specifications of the job listing. Of the applications read so far, I have counted a prime number of
candidates I am still considering seriously. For them of you what are playing along at home, the

possibilities come from the sieve of Eratosthenes: 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, and so on. This is
not a Fibonacci sequence, but then again, who is? Incidentally, I used the example of the sieve of
Eratosthenes as an analog to composing with various scales (you know, filters), to a room full of blank
stares. That was, okay, I guess, because "Who wants to rock and roll?" done at full voice produces similar
blank stares. I suppose next time I'll need the blue wig.
And so far the longest cover letter is 7 pages single spaced. Dear readers, please note that 7-page cover
letters do not leave a sparkling impression. When this search is over, I will have at least one two-hour
professional seminar to give to graduate students regarding job applications, and issue #1 will be length of
cover letters. Issue #2 will obviously be read the job description.
Currently I have cold finger typing syndrome. It is supposed to warm up to 80 today, but when, oh when?
This house keeps in the cold like nobody's bidness. According to Weather Bug itis 66.4 right now, and I
wonder -- when did Weather Bug start doing temperatures in tenths of a degree? But am I bitter?
The event of the week was a Rick Moody reading in a bar in Newton Centre, and I was pleased and
privileged to be there for it. I actually went in quite early in order to get parking, and was delighted to find
that a quarter still gets you an hour in Newton Centre. John A. came along for the free ride, and I watched
him eat a sandwich while we shop-talked about Mus 106, and I walked into and out of some of the shops -or as they would probably prefer to be called, shoppes. The area is a strange conflagration of high end
boutiques and blue collar hangouts, and oddly I could find no good bookstore. And the Union Street
something where the reading was was definitely my kind of place. "My kind of place" when speaking of a
reading or place to eat simply means that you can get Buffalo wings. And get Buffalo wings I did, I did, I
did. So Rick came over to my table just as he was being introduced by a guy who'd hit his head, and Rick
read from the head wound chapter of The Diviners in response. Afterwards, Rick had to sign stuff, so I gave
him Becca Schwartz's Music 5 homework, which I'd been correcting, to autograph. Which he did ("Hi
Becca. Rick Moody"),and Becca didn't realize what a weird but valuable treasure she was getting. I mean,
come on, how many fundamentals homeworks have ever been signed by Rick Moody? And oh yeah, Rick
also asked for my autograph in his bindery copy of the book. How random is that? Later Rick and I talked
about the B-flat harmonic minor scale and The Doors and plenty of other random things. And it was good.
Inko's Healthy White Teas sent us a big bag of packing popcorn and bubble wrap, and digging inside
diligently, one could find four containers of Inko's new flavors that we'd been sent to taste test. Beff and I
each had a third of each bottle and saved a third for Carolyn, and apricot will probably be our new fave,
though honeysuckle and lychee certainly gave us a tingle. Pictures below.
Which reminds me that when I told the first year theory students that normally about a quarter of their
exercises get "OK" and in 2002 5 out of 838 were marked "good", I was asked what makes something
"good" as compared to "ok". I said it was technical correctness together with something aesthetic that's hard
to quantify. It makes me tingle. It's nice. And so the next odyssey will be explaining the aesthetic tingle, as
compared to the workaday correctness. Metaphors abound, and that's me. Esprit d'escalier: I should have
told them that the tingle tells you it's working, but somehow I don't think they would get a shampoo
commercial from the late 1980s.
As I type this, the sound of wires being fed through the wall right next to me dominate the landscape. Talk
about the tingle.
Beff's weekend residency included a pair of bike rides, seafood dinner (she got the sole & capers, I got the
clam roll), a little more cleaning out of the attic, an oil change, a bit of Maynard fest (new drive through
CVS!!), another trunk full of discarded computer equipment to take to recycling, and some shopping. Also
some viewing of "Weeds", now on Showtime On Demand. And the first of Geoffy's 2005-6 Musica Viva
residencies. Yes, Geoff is here now, enjoying the D-cell experience, and, as usual, washing his own dishes.
Gotta get him some more of that spring water stuff. And Beff spent a long time editing her trio, which now
finally sounds very cool. It can be accessed from her web page.
And everything else is what it appears to be. I moved some more old stuff to my private Brandeis web

space, and there it will stay. This week's movie is the cats playing in the computer room, sped up greatly
("Cats tussle", to the left in yellow text). The pictures include Sunny in the attic window, the new cap on the
chimney, the new Inkos flavors, and diametrically opposed cats in window and yard.

OCTOBER 11. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms vegetarian sausage patties with 2% cheese,
orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was chicken sandwiches and salad. Lunch was hot and sour soup.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 47.7 and 80.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Extraordinary Machine" by Fiona Apple. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are
none, yet. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In mid 1985 after moving from Princeton to
Brookline, I joined a temp agency and was sent to the Boston YWCA. After a week, they hired me without
compensating the temp agency. I left shortly thereafter, joined another temp agency and was sent to the
Boston YMCA (Droolie was my immediate supervisor), who also hired me straight off without
compensating the temp agency. Soon the YWCA asked me to come back. And my weird years with two
part-time jobs began. Now it can be revealed: Droolie and I always lunched at Our House East, and I got
paid for lunch. I was still a bargain. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY THIS WEEK is Earthlink. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
are also none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Does the melody still linger on? THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: tortle. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: deli pickles and olives.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK a lot more people want to teach at Brandeis than I had predicted. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 12, if you bend the rules a lot. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE:
New double-fiver on home page, new performance noted. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE
CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 16 out of 47.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: on Tuesdays everybody wears
sky blue clothing. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Zeki Clair.
SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: Sayyid Mcintosh Phaarmcy. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: ...after
all the folderol... OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE a bag of green tortles, the length of your lips, a blank DVD-R, a song without
words.
This will be the week where local weather will start to take more of a center stage in this update. For you
see, a week of gorgeously overwarm and sunny weather -- coinciding nicely with a Brandeis vacation -came crashing to a close with a big, big rainstorm over the weekend that promises to continue on and off
until Friday of this week. We have probably gotten six inches of rain since Friday, and of couse with the
high water table here that caused some water to come into the basement. No fear, though, because we have
a very effective sump pump, and a basement floor perfectly designed for the water to flow right into the
sump pump's evil grip. So I checked the basement last night to see if any water got in, and there was a
lovely stagnant puddle oovering up the whole middle. Turns out the evil grip of the sump pump is
somewhat mitigated when electricians have been rewiring, unplug the sump pump, and just leave the plug
hanging ("Current! Must have current!" I heard faintly from the third prong of the plug). So I wetted myself
-- actually just my slippers -- to atone for the electricians' unforced errors, and was satisfied by the giant
sucking sound as the water apparently got jobs in Mexico.
It was quite juicy by Thursday (my only teaching day of the week) and Friday, and I started having regrets
about having taken out the air conditioners and transported them into the attic. We had a few fans still
downstairs, and we did what we could with the air.
In the meantime, Beff has a four-day weekend and I don't -- though this coming weekend, with Yom
Kippur, ends up being a four-day weekend for me. Beff came in at her accustomed time. On Friday I went
into Brand-x twice, the first time for a meeting to confirm what we could spend money on for the search,
and the second time to go to a concert of Bob Nieske's big band. For the second trip, I was heartened by
how many students in my classes made it to the concert. And then I was spleened, kidneyed, and small
intestined, in precisely that order. Friday was a day of dire rain predictions, and everyone was talking about
when the rain would start. Answer: not until early Saturday morning.

And for the big, big, big rain -- including a few incredible downpours -- we went to Trader Joe's in Acton,
and a bookstore that plays classical music, and Colonial Spirits on Route 2A. Colonial Spirits is this
gigantic place with so much in stock and all kinds of exotic beers that I have to be sure either to tell or NOT
to tell Eric Chafe about it. We got some sort of fisherman's brew we'd never heard of, as well as a wine that
comes in a cylinder that seemed okay. And earlier in the week, I had gotten some Sharpe Hill wine that Beff
like, and not just because there is a picture of a 19th century child on the label.
The electricians have not come near to finishing the rewiring, and have scheduled November 3 and 4 to
finish up. We have bathroom lighting now, and a hall light upstairs, but there is still much to do. And I have
become an expert on lighting solutions that involve D batteries. As has Geoffy, who stayed several nights
while he was in town for his regular Boston Musica Viva gig. Now Musica Viva hasn't done anything of
mine since 1997, which is too bad, because I rule. But this week I have my own Musica Viva premiere, and
it turns out it's the name of the festival Curt Macomber et al run during the foliage season in Norwich,
Vermont -- right across the Connecticut Riever from Dartmouth. On Thursday I drive up and hear my new
trio in the afternoon for the first time. I looked at the PDF yesterday, and there are some nice things in it.
Damned if I remember much of it, though. I also will get to see my old student Galen, who seems not to be
able to get enough of that area. I come back on Saturday, and that is when Beff will be getting in from
Maine. I will probably still be reading applications. And, back to Vermont, I'm told I'll be staying in a house
whose owners are out of town this week.
So anyway. Sunday night I had a performance of Toucan Play in DC and was told it killed (literally!),
there's this piano trio thing, Adam Marks premieres the funk etude, and E-Machines is a tiny part of a
Powerhouse Pianists concert on Saturday night that was highlighted in the New York Times over the
weekend. Too bad I can't make it. When more info is available, I'll be sure to neglect to say anything about
it here.
On Wednesday when I started up the Earthlink software on this Windows computer, I got a message that
updates were available for the software. So I downloaded them. And when the "Fast Lane" software for
DSL/Cable was downloading, suddenly the task bar and all the shortcuts disappeared from the desktop, and
there was no Start Menu. Meaning the only was I could figure to shut down and try again was to press the
power button for five seconds -- always one of my favorites. Upon restart, I got the task bar and shortcuts
back, but they again disappeared after about ten seconds. I figured out that I could run some programs by
doing the Ctrl-Alt-Del thing and switching processes (not to mention shut down more elegantly), but the
lack of lots of stuff weighed down at me. After I called Earthlink to ask if they knew that their installer
could do this sort of thing, I got the standard reply: contact the hardware manufacturer. We didn't do it.
Damned if I was going to do the on hold thing to explain something as scwewy as "task bar disappeared" to
a rep who was going to say reinstall Windows anyway. So I tried restoring my system to an earlier version.
Windows very nicely had about 20 earlier dates I could choose -- all of which I tried, all of which failed
("Windows cannot restore your system to September 21. No changes were made"). Talk about Windows as
a rinky-dink operating system.
And so I reinstalled Windows to the factory settings, i.e., a clean system reinstall. And had to reinstall
Office, Media Creator, etc. And then the installation of Norton System Works 2005 failed due to an
"internal error", the task bar started flashing YOU HAVE NO VIRUS PROTECTION, a retry of installing
System Works gave the same error and taskbar flashing, and ... I reverted, yet again, to a clean system
reinstall. Gfornafratz rinky dink operating system. But this time, things seemed to take. No more
"SetConfig cannot run" messages and ... well, I've put off installing System Works for the time being.
Beyond all of that. Beff went to Vermont on Sunday to see her dad and returned yesterday afternoon,
calling the stretch between Concord and the NH/MA state line a "parking lot" -- something to do with all
the rain they got there, I suppose. And scant moments ago, she off and went Mainewards. I have to go to
Brandeis today for a few minor events, and of course tomorrow I become the teaching machine that Fiona
Apple wishes she was.
Speaking of which -- Monday was an open house day for Brandeis. As it's a holiday FOR EVERYBODY
IN THE COUNTRY EXCEPT BRANDEIS, lots of parents and prospective students come to campus to be

talked effusively at, and to observe classes. Observers came in 20 to 30 minutes late into first year theory,
without apology, and I made them introduce themselves. Meanwhile, I had to administer the championship
of first species, and one with a dramatic and well prepared octave leap won the prize: a cheap ornament of a
frog playing the trumpet that I probably got in a Christmas box from my sister some while ago. I also
awarded a Yak Bak to the student who identified the song behind "Four Rhythms" which I had posted on
the online class archive. So it was Free Stuff day. And meanwhile, Fundamentals got themselves awash in a
sea of enharmonically equivalent major, minor, diminished and augmented intervals, I made up an
Encyclopedia of Intervals for them, and the twain actually DID meet. A very nice family with a daughter
who goes to LaGuardia High School of the Arts observed, and I got to talk about the program with them (I
did not bring up faculty morale). And then I saw my independent study, who is writing a climax worthy -in dimension -- of Beethoven. Which is what I said, but I don't think I used the word "dimension". Oh yeah,
and as usual I went to schmooze with parents at an 8 am breakfast -- of course I found nobody interested in
music, just theater and political science -- but I wore a black shirt and a tie. The chalk dust that accumulated
during the teaching machine part of my day was gentle reminder of why I don't wear black to teach any
more.
We haven't seen the sun, except in pictures, since Thursday. But the Yankees will have plenty of time, at
home, to look for it. The defeat of the Red Sox was deserved. But the defeat of the Yankees was delicious.
And best served cold.
The Tussle movie from last week remains for this week, to which I add a cats Wrassling movie. Pictures
include Cammy in a new favorite napping place, an artistic silhouette of Sunny in the attic, both cats trying
to fit on a chair, and nascent foliage in our yard.

OCTOBER 18. Breakfast this morning was a Lean Pockets breakfast pastry, orange juice, and coffee.
Dinner was Chinese style hot and sour soup and salad. Lunch was leftover rolls with Arthur Marc's hot
sauce, and some pickles. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 39.7 and 61.5. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" (I had been
looking for tunes that use augmented triads). LARGE EXPENSES this last week are software $69, more
electrician expenses $1044, HP all-in-one (scan, print, fax, copy) $75, ink cartridges $68, insoles, $9.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was about 8, I got watermelon seeds (for who
knows what reason)and I planted them in the front yard. After lots of patience and watering, after a couple
of months one melon was getting substantial in size. I had anticipated that it would eventually reach some
version of storebought size. Then one afternoon, my brother mowed the front lawn, incidentally ripping my
watermelon to shreds. I was livid, even though I didn't know what that word meant. And the parents
seemed to think it was funny that I was livid, and my brother even moreso (they had better vocabularies
than I did). Scarred for life. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
THIS WEEK is Norton/HP as software partners (I am weary of being prompted to configure Norton
Antivirus and Firewall every time I start up). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY are the sponsors of Vermont Musica Viva. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many
ways can wrinkles be made funny? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: scabbadab-doo. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF this week include cloudiness, rain, and cars that drive below the speed limit.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real (tm) Pickles, red beer of various sorts, jalapeno stuffed
olives, Buffalo wings. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK nine straight rainy days makes everybody a dull boy.
THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: New performance
noted. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is the insoles of my
new(er) laceless teaching shoes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 18 out of 47.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: everybody wants to rake Davy's
yard. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Charita Shifflett. SUBJECT OF
THAT SPAM: Re: Hotaka Carolan Medibctions. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Fast as you can fast
as you can fast as you can fast as you fast as you can fast ... as ... you ... can. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE half a fingerprint,
a spent C battery, a roll of Tyvek home insulation, an unclassifiable chord.

This week the weather is on everyone's lips -- in more ways than one, as it turnsout -- and them what make
certainly had plenty of self-inflicted egg on their face. For those of you playing along at home, there were
nine straight rainy days in this part of the world (more even in some places to our north), and many of us
could only dream of having our irises burned to a crisp by staring directly into the sun. As I drove through
drizzle, showers, rain, showers, drizzle and rain on my way to work on Wednesday, the Them What Make
commentator remarked that a strong High in Canada was pushing against a strong storm and it would limit
the area to light showers, and "on Friday you will be surprised at how fast things clear out". A true
statement if "fast" is treated with extreme irony. Those scabbadab-doos were off by about 36 hours at least.
On today's Them What Make cast, the same guy noted "the two storms that combined over us on Friday to
make a bigger storm have moved out over eastern Nova Scotia now..." Needless to say, the surprise on
Friday was not how fast it cleared, but how much it rained. And rained. And the same for Saturday. And in
times like these, I recall yet again (sigh, goes the gentle reader....) hearing the 2000 story on the radio about
how the Them What Make service put a new supercomputer online that would make more accurate
predictions and long range predictions as well -- which was ended by a forecast of overnight flurries. And
we woke up to 10 inches of snow.
But other than the weather -- boy, did it make everybody crabby, or stuffed up, or stuffed with crab, or
generally moist -- what is most notable about this last week is its eventfulness. I already laid down the law
in this space about how many pieces I was having performed and I could only make it to one of them
(meanwhile, I have received several nice comments about E-Machines in NY from people I trust except for
not having names of five letters). So after my three-day teaching week, I up and drove to Vermont to hear
my new piano trio. But more about that later.
I did my standard teaching, with an extra independent study, on Monday and Wednesday (students in
Fundamentals continued to stress over intervals, students in theory wanted to know how to get better than
"ok" on their counterpoint exercises (MWA ha ha!), and Syrinx is a nice little piece to use as a model. On
Tuesday I had a lunch scheduled with the director of The Bacchae, and was stood up. Standed up?
Aufgesteht? After a delay, I got a guilty e-mail and tried to milk it a little. But just a little. And meanwhile,
there was much, much counterpoint to correct, probably over 300 exercises. I hate it when the hardass in
me comes out. After my teaching on Wednesday, I stopped at BJ's, decided that it was not a good thing that
my color inkjet was no longer able to print onto photo paper, and I got a new HP all-in-one (my new
exclusive printer supplier), some more Inko's (yes, they go fast), some fire logs, some tomatoes, a lo-o-o-oot of toilet paper, and other stuff I forget. I spent Wednesday afternoon and evening going through yet more
applications.
So on Thursday morning, after a brief stop at Brand-x to drop off the application box, I up and drove up to
Vermont. Norwich. Texas Tea. Y'all come back now. And was early enough that I met my players in a
rehearsal and said hi, walked around downtown Norwich (it takes 57 seconds), and drove across the
Connecticut River to Hanover, saw theDartmouth campus, parked at a CVS and walked around Hanover (it
takes 3 minutes and 57 seconds) --- the best imitation I've ever seen of Williamstown or Annapolis, or a
small Princeton. There I ate at Molly's, had Buffalo wings and salad, was obsequioused to, and drove down
Route 10 to see where it would take me. Mostly, nowheresville, and then suddenly I was on Interstate 89
going back to Norwich. Cool.
After which I unpacked a bit and found my assigned bedroom. The performance was to be in the
Congregational Church on the town green, and the house right next to it was vacant and made available. I
got the kids room, with a bassinet and two single beds pressed up against a wall that sloped because of the
roof (number of times I hit my head hard on the sloping wall/ceiling: 3. Number of times I hit my head
hard: 3). I decided not to sleep in the bassinet. And meantime I cruised Norwich again, this time with more
detail. And I got some chips and cherry tomatoes for snacking, and snack I did. By 4:45 I was ready for my
5:00 rehearsal (I always have little trouble with deadlines), and rehearse they did. It was coming together
nicely and, as usual, I scratched my head in "what the heck was I thinkin'?" mode regularly. Then we went
back to change, and went to a funder's house for dinner with funders. Which was a wild and crazeee event.
I even met one of the amateurs from the Composers Conference/Chamber Music Center, who shared stories
of doing the Wellesley thing. Then there was the drive back, and the sleep.

On Friday I had plenty of time to kill, so I got breakfast stuff, walked around downtown again (cumulative
total: 2 minutes 51 seconds). After that was another rehearsal (it started to kick butt), after which I drove to
the area of commerce in southern Lebanon (New Hampshire). There I visited Staples, BJs, Price Chopper,
Borders, and who knows what else, and there I discovered a Seven Barrels Brew Pub. Where I had some of
the house red, and Buffalo wings. These wings were way better than Molly's, and I felt fortunate to have
shared a little of their existence with myself. And then I drove back and napped a little bit. Dinner had been
scheduled with Galen and his significant other Christine back in Hanover, and I got there about 45 minutes
early to scope out the town again. (Galen was an undergrad at Brandeis, took composition with me, and
wrote the only Theory 1 minuet with thrown bows -- so far) During this time, it started to deluge, and we
did --- Molly's. Christine got the Buffalo wings, I got the avacado chicken sandwich, and Galen got a CBC.
We talked over old and new times, tried to pretend that he didn't look weird wearing a tie, took a few
pictures, and off and went to theconcert in yet more bucketsful of rain.
And the concert was well-attended, my piece was quite well-received (damned if I know why), I put war
paint on my face (not really -- I was just trying to see if you were still paying attention), there was a nice
little reception in the back of the church, and after all of that, Curt and Judy et al made yet another meal,
which I had to be polite and eat some of. It was over at 12:30, which was a good bed time, except that
earlier would have been more appropriate. Judy is, of course, the great Judy Sherman, and Curt is the great
Curt Macomber -- for the record, the other players in my piece were Jeanne Kierman and Norm Fischer,
and boy did they have to learn a lot of notes. What thinkin' was I?
The deluge continued for my drive home on Saturday morning, but I was surprised near Lowell by a brief
glimpse of solarity peeking through the overcast. When I got home, the sump pump was going off every
half hour, it was kind of cold, the cats were glad to see me, and Beff also arrived just a little later, from
Maine. Two days worth of mail was waterlogged (luckily most of it was junk), and Sam Nichols's
dissertation had arrived and was flat on the front porch, quite waterlogged (it's currently drying with the
hope of being readable within the next few days). The newer laceless sneakers in which I have been
teaching had been left, by me, in thecomputer room, and while I was gone, the cats fished both of the
insoles out ("fished" is a mild word -- the insoles were glued into the shoes) and laid them to rest several
feet (pun intended) away. After some cleaning (all of it by Beff), we recreated, while it STILL RAINED.
The roof, by the way, kept the attic very dry. And we probably eventually watched something on TV, after I
made delicious and wholesome chicken sandwiches. Possibly the most delicious and wholesome in the
history of the earth.
Meanwhile, Curt and Norm (see Vermont Musica Viva, above) seemed to salivate over the fact that I
actually had a violin and cello duo -- it was written for choreography for Dinosaur Annex, and the dancer
took off a hat and blouse in the performance. On purpose. And did some of that writhing stuff (not the way
yeast writhes or the sun writheses every morning). And I had only gotten a VHS tape of the performance. A
few years ago, Eric Chafe nicely converted it to DVD for me, and I needed a way to get the sound off the
DVD. I had done it once, but that file died with the old HP (note: HP is printer supplier, not necessarily
computer supplier. Except that it is), so I tried capturing the sound with a shareware program. Which had
apparently expired, because I got a minute of white noise per five seconds of actual sound. So I paid the
modest shareware fee for it, noticed that the same company had a video grabber, too, paid for that, and
started taking little QuickTime movies of things I had only on DVD -- including a bit of "Boy in the Dark".
And the Sibling Revelrys. (yesterday I captured a bit of Singin' in the Rain to use in Fundamentals -- but I
am both ahead of and behind myself because I exist in more than four dimensions) Around all of that
activity, both Beff and I did a LOT of grading and correcting -- and I gave my first "good" on a second
species exercise. To which I later added a green star. And in the late morning we took a walk, the long way,
into Maynard, where we noticed that the old covered up railroad tracks in back of the new luxury condos
have been turned into a walking path, and possibly a future bike path. To celebrate, we took other old tracks
on the way back, and the twain met yet again (Beff says I'm in my twain phase, and I wish I had a joke
using "choo choo" to put here). While in town, I got new insoles at CVS (I've never done that before) and
cut them up to fit when I got home (I've also never done that before). I got blue gel cushioned ones. I've
never done that before.
Speaking of weather (which I was way before all these other paragraphs intervened), the fall foliage is very

late this year. Most of our trees are still green or just very slightly turned, and by this date last year I was
raking, raking, raking, raking ... up to 101.5 barrels. The big wind of yesterday and today has loosened
quite a lot of pine needles, but so many of the leaves are on the trees that ... oh well, you make up your own
joke here. So raking has to wait, and that means, dear readers, that you should make plans beginning a
week from now to help out. And not just by singing "99 barrels of leaves on the trees, 99 barrels of leaves ..
and when the wind blows, down one barrel goes, 98 barrels of leaves on the trees ..." because it's my song,
and what it is, too. And we have set a new record for latest in the season to turn the heat on for the first
time. Normally I try to hold off until October 15, but last year did so in late September. In Maryland, we
made that date November 1 (and didn't always make it), and in Maine September 30 (made it easily this
year). So far, the heat has yet to be turned on either by me or Beff. Which is probably fine, because the AA
battery that moves the time cylinder in the thermostat got used up. It had been there for four years, so it was
certainly cost-effective. As a big duh, I replaced it.
Beff and I both got BMI checks to cover international performances and radio play. I was fortunate that an
internet broadcast of "Close Enough for Jazz" brought in a whole penny (I'm betting they rounded up). The
other stuff kept the amount from being embarrassing. I got some Netherlands play. Beff got play in several
places, some of which I forget. And I got no royalties for the Art of the States stuff, and I don't think I am
supposed to.
Review this morning in the NY Times of the Powerhouse Pianists concert from last Saturday. As there were
ten composers represented, I got the usual sentence. The reviewer astutely figured out that there are
repeated notes in E-Machines.
W's approval rating hits yet another all-time low. It's about time the rest of the country got to be as smart as
me 'n' Beff.
Since it was an eventful week, there are plenty of new little movies to look at, and I've kept the cat movies
of the last two weeks up here. In yellow text on the left, note the two existing cat movies, a sped-up movie
of me driving Route 89 in New Hampshire, a sped-up movie of the clouds moving on Sunday morning, the
current torrent going over the Ben Smith dam (compare to the trickle exposing the walls of the dam scant
weeks ago), the torrent going under Main Street in Maynard, and a little movie of a toy I got in Hanover
that will be a prize for the championship of some species yet to be determined. In the ten pictures below,
we have the venue for the concert, the inside as seen from the balcony, the trio getting ready to rehearse
(left to right: Curt, not Curt, not Curt), Galen and Christine at dinner (note Buffalo wing sauce on fingers),
the brew pub, a page from the cello part of my piece, the dam Sunday morning, the new path, a view from a
window in the church, and the older train path. Gonzo.

OCTOBER 25. Breakfast this morning was Boca meatless sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was a
Freschetta pizza. Lunch was Buffalo wings and a sour pickle. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST
WEEK 32.2 and 66.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Thinking of You" by
Kalmer and Ruby. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are a few things at Amazon, amount not
remembered. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My parents kept a cute little notebook of
funny things I said when I was very young. From this notebook, we learn that my brother's name for me
was "Dready", though in the book it is spelled "Dreddy". We had a crabapple tree on the side of the house,
and I used to like to pick and eat them -- the sour thing, dontcha know. According to the book, once I was
told not to pick them, picked them anyway, and covered my tracks by saying that I was only picking the
leaves. Of course I have no memory of any of this. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there any more puns I
haven't heard on "leave" and "leaf"? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: snop. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF this week is the word "Nor'easter" on weather maps. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Real (tm) Pickles, red beer of various sorts, jalapeno stuffed olives, Buffalo wings.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the changes to "Over the Rainbow". THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN
1 AND 10: 6, but don't quite me on that. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Just this page. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a few small insects. RECOMMENDATION AND

PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 5. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE
OF MUSIC this week is 22 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: certain suspensions of the laws of space and time. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER
NAME IN A SPAM: gepnwgub@mundoanimal.com. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Hello ! FBvb
AgwVpmP. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Please please please. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE
THIS WEEK: $2.49 a gallon. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a half-diminished seventh chord without resolution, a third
species counterpointe exercise, a dripping faucet, a poster for the 1960s run of "You're A Good Man,
Charlie Brown".
Might as well talk about the weather some more. On Friday morning on the weather widget's radar for the
area, there was a spot of white precipitation (snow to you and me) and some pink (sleet or mixed) that
seemed to go right over us before changing to rain. There had been no prediction of same, but there sure
was one that morning -- a little behind the eight ball this time. There actually wasn't any such precip, but I
see from our temperature extremes that we got close to a temperature where that would be possible. Dreary
weather continues this week, and as I type this, a "major Nor'easter" is forming just off the coast (I can't
wait to see a Nor'easter that isn't major), and it will combine some forces with Wilma and Alpha. So far
what we get is rain, rain, and some occasional big winds.
Which is finally blowing some leaves off of these trees. Two weeks late, the trees lining the driveway are
turning salt and pepper green and yellow, and not a pretty shade, either. The driveway is officially leafcovered, but it is still quite a while before the place is rakable. Too many leaves on the trees makes for
repeat work. Though I am prepared to give a running tally of barrels of leaves raked and put away: one. On
Saturday morning, before yet another storm emptied out upon us, we brought in the picnic table and chairs
and the hammock (the Adirondack chairs are still out there in vain hopes of another Indian summer -- that
and the electricians still have to plaster some of the ceiling on the porch where we store them in the winter),
and did the yearly ritual of raking down and mowing the hostas that line the front walk. The ritual is always
the same: I huff and puff something about my masculinity, Beff gets a rake (this year she counted how
many we have: 5), rakes the hostas flat, I mow them down, and Beff rakes up the detritus. This year the
detritus filled a barrel, Beff transferred it to the barrel, I brought it to the discard area, after which I tore
down a whole mess of vines in preparation for another 70 or 80 barrels making their way there. I marveled
that 5 years ago the discard area -- which was not a discard area at the time -- was overgrown with
ailanthuses of various sizes, and now it's just a big ... discard area, framed by neighboring yards and a year's
worth of big fallen limbs. Or maybe two years worth. Actually, they're not all fallen -- I did a major trim in
April of some cedar branches encroaching into the back back yard. Why do I bother when we never
actually use the yard except to mow its grass? Dunno.
Our only other actual exercise for the week was a walk downtown, at which I discovered a new yuppie
earth-healthy art artifacts store. Here there was available for purchase various classic vinyl albums that had
been reshaped into platters, serving dishes, etc.For twenny-six bucks, we got a copy of Stevie Wonder's
Talking Book that had been refashioned into an olive serving tray. Boy, now they'll see that I'm really
serious about my earth-smart geegaws conversation pieces.
The other exercise of the week, for me, was installing the storm window in the attic (successfully) and all
the other storm windows except for two in the master bedroom. I can never do that without getting at least
one thumb bleed, and this year was no exception.
Meantime. Theory, composition, and fundamentals chug along. Fundamentals had a quiz yesterday which,
despite my not having finished grading them all, I can report they seem mostly to have aced. And I got to
play a funny scene from Singin' in the Rain where Lena Lamont lip syncs to Kathy Selden singing the tune,
and asks for the key of A-flat. Of course, it's actually in E-flat in the movie. So they had to transpose the
sucker to both keys. Soon I will be playing them part of the Wizard of Oz in order to introduce the 32-bar
song form, lead sheet, and figured bass. Figured bass for Somewhere Over the Rainbow looks pretty funny,
actually. Especially the V7 chord over the pedal tonic in the bridge. In theory, we are about to zoom
through third species and finally get to my fave -- uh, fourth. In composition, they are writing solo flute
pieces and do not know yet that next Thursday Eric Chasalow is going to read through them in class.

In Fundamentals, I decided to waste some precious teaching time by showing them examples of my exotic
(cheap) percussion instrument collection, and Monday was the vibraslap. I played a few Brand New
Heavies excerpts and pointed to the vibraslap usage, and one student knew what it was -- she said she had
to play it because she was in a group that did a "cake song". Confusion wracked my brain. In 1989, Sean
Varah showed up as a composition student in my office at Stanford and said he wanted help writing a
"bicycle tune", which was a concept unfamiliar to me then as it still is now. But a cake song? There's
AWB's "Cut the Cake" and Happy Birthday, of course, but otherwise it was a genre unfamiliar to me. It
took input from Big Mike and Carolyn (double ka-ching) to convince me that "Cake" is the name of a band
(iTunes confirms that) and that a "cake song" has a parallel function to, say, a "Madonna song" or a
"Fountains of Wayne song". And I voted for them for Best New Artist.
Which reminds me -- the Grammy ballot is in. Yet another strange time-consuming task. And Weather Bug
chirped at me, letting me know, as it often does, that an advisory posted long ago is still in effect (a day and
a half ago, flood watch and wind advisory were posted, and every once in a while, the NWS likes to remind
me that they haven't forgotten about their precious little advisories).
And this weekend Dan Stepner gave the Irving Fine concert, including a performance of my solo violin
piece When the Bow Breaks. Some very serious people asked me about the significance of the title (I said
there was none), and sensible people ignored me entirely. So on Saturday after our hosta-thon, we both
drove to Brandeis for Dan's dress rehearsal, I made a few comments about phrasing, and we drove, new 30dollar Staples coupon in hand, toward Route 2A. We got a bunch of exotic stuff -- including "five pepper"
stuffed olives -- mostly beers we'd never seen before. Beff, meanwhile, started having sneezing fits, and I
made sure to get lemons at Trader Joe's for what we call "remedy" -- lemon and honey in hot water. I got
other stuff at Trader Joe's, including some Beffstuff for Bangor, and when we got home, it was an afternoon
and evening night with a fire in the fireplace with us on the couch. I had a lot of homework to grade, of
course, and Beff was reading a book. After which we continued our Veronica Marsathon -- ten episodes
aired over the whole weekend. I've decided I like the show, though I get a Twin Peaksish feeling about what
they're going to do once the big murder case is solved. Plus, Veronica's dad is played by a guy who was in
Just Shoot Me, and Galaxy Quest, and occasionally we repeat his lines in the funny alien voice he used in
the latter movie. And Veronica Mars's acting reminds me of Buffy, though Beff claims she has a broader
range. I swear. Alas, I read in a story in Entertainment Weekly who the killer is, so now it's just filling in the
blanks in between.
There was very low-level home improvement stuff over the weekend, and that involves a wrench and a
screwdriver. Both doorbells send a wireless signal that is picked up by a receiver up in the hall upstairs, and
they had stopped working. So I had to make a special Ace Hardware trip to get the special batteries -- they
are marked "SECURITY" on them -- for the two doorbells, and the receiver itself takes C batteries. We use
them so little that the package said "use by January 2004" -- they still work. And meanwhile, on Wednesday
morning I got no flow from the showerhead. This has happened on both faucets, where normally I unscrew
the filter element and blow through it so the mineral deposits go away. I didn't have time for any real
plumbing, so I washed my hair in the sink, went to school, told Beff she'd have to deal with it when she got
in, but when I got back from work on Wednesday, I asked about some special solution for soaking out
mineral deposits, and was directed to a big container of CLR (calcium, lime, rust). While there, I drooled
over the showerhead selection, and also bought one that has a valve for variable flow. Then, the actual
plumbing part -- taking off the old shower head and putting on the new one -- took exactly three minutes.
Of which two minutes twenty-seven seconds was finding the good wrench. So I'm clean, I'm clean!
Or, in the words of Dorothy Gale, we must be over the rainbow.
And I started reading Sam Nichols's dissertation, which dried out enough for me to do so. So far, not a lot
of markings except questions as to what consonance and dissonance means in George Benjamin's music,
but it's a dense read. As well it might be.

As I type this Tuesday morning, I have still not graded all of my 36 quizzes and 20 homeworks and who
knows how many species counterpoints. And I am supposed to have lunch with Eric Hill today and do a
panel for the Brandeis Festival of the Arts. Meanwhile, it's downright ugly out there, and I feel very slightly
that I might be getting what Beff had -- right now for some reason the contact lenses are a litte more painful
than they usually are, and I am tearing (rhymes with fearing) somewhat.
So THIS weekend is my time to go to Bangor, just because Beff has so much stuff that she can't get to
Maynard for the weekend. I have to get back by 11 on Saturday morning, as that is when Maynard Door
and Window is coming by to look at the flashing on the mud room roof, the window we want to replace in
the computer room, and a strategy for putting a fan in the bathroom. So much stuff. And then on Sunday
finally we have our first search committee meeting. I hate it when that happens. Meanwhile, the week after,
I do a colloquium at Boston Conservatory, and you don't. And Carolyn (ka-ching) is talking about a leafraking party for the first weekend of November. Now we're a-talkin'. Hopefully, on Thursday and Friday of
that week the big rewiring will finally be finished.
Among other little tasks was to assemble an html catalog of stuff I've put in my webspace. Not for web
publication, just for my own amusement. Plus, I planned the rest of the semester's composition class, and
dreamed trampoline dreams. Beff decided to do a cat video piece with instruments and we found the big
Christopher Smart cat poem from Jubilate Agno, which we played with somewhat. So I transferred the fullquality versions of all our cat movies to Beff's working hard disk, and took some more movies -- evidence
of same in the yellow text on the left.
This week's movies are Cammy playing with Beff's sneakers, the cats coming running in from the back
yard, and me feeing the cats. Pictures are Sunday's breakfast, the October version of the big hydrangea, the
earth-smart Stevie Wonder Talking Book geegaw, Maynard on a crisp October morning, the last gasp of the
12thC Roofing Company's sign (it has been destroyed) and the cats lookin' out the window in the computer
room. Again.

NOVEMBER 1. Breakfast this morning is coffee. Dinner was a Freschetta brick oven pizza. Lunch was
Hebrew National 97% fat free hot dogs, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK
30.2 and 68.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "We Need Him Every Day" or
something like that, by Take 6. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: At the district music festival my senior year, I volunteered to emcee the informal talent
competition, at which I also did a silly lip sync to PDQ Bach's "Do You Suffer" hay fever commercial. I got
to feel the power of introducing various local music teachers by their first names, and I even knew that
Verne Colburn's middle name was Arthur. I also accompanied Tom Chevalier in "Saturday in the Park",
though I didn't know the changes for the bridge. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there any puns on
foliage and portfolio? I ask this because last week's quandary actually received an answer. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: crad. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is grading and correcting
voluminous homework. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: sour pickles, jalapeno stuffed olives.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK all of the rest of Veronica Mars, first season. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Just this page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED
BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is the wrist pad on the iMac. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 12 -- it's Guggenheim season. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 9 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: magic disappearing leaves. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE
SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Forumla P. Victrola. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software. FEATURED
FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I've been a bad, bad girl.WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.29,
$2.34 and $2.39. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE a passing that's like a samba, an extinct volcano, refrigeration, the head of a pin.
Running total: 16 barrels of leaves raked and deposited into holding areas so far. The driveway was finally

so thickly covered with them that I couldn't tell where it was when I got home. The raking started
yesterday, at which time I did 15 barrels all myself. And since the weather was so dadburn gorgeous, it was
great exercise. And unlike in previous years, I am not sore the next day. Because I was sore afraid. So today
I plan on doing some more, in the morning and in the afternoon after I have lunch with Josh Fineberg. We
are doing the Quarterdeck, and you're not.
Meanwhile, a leaf raking party has been scheduled for Saturday, featuring the Ka-Ching twins, and dear
readers, you are welcome to come along for the ride. We are either doing pizza afterwards or going to the
Quarterdeck. I prefer the latter. At this time last year the leaves were almost all off the trees and raked, but
alas, the season is still two weeks later than usual. I am not feeling very wordy today, as I'm eager to get out
there and see my grass again.
As to them what make: they had predicted mixed precip here for Saturday morning, at which time I was
scheduled to be doing a long drive, but they got it wrong, as usual. However, they were right about the
snow -- in the mid-afternoon, a little drizzle changed over to snow, which accumulated a little bit -- much
more towards the coast than this far inland, as I was to discover the next morning. It wasn't exactly a winter
wonderland, and boy did the local media crow over such an early dumping of snow. It was a hot topic, hot
enough to sizzle. On Sunday morning I went into Brandeis all day for a meeting (in the words of Eric
Chasalow: yes I really did) and in the morning there was maybe an inch or two of snow once I passed the
Lincoln line. It all melted quickly, as it got to the mid-60s on Sunday.
Meantime, I did 32-bar song form in Fundamentals, and inversions of triads was puzzlingly puzzling to
them. It was a time to realize that really a whole lot of stuff goes into some of the simplest musical
concepts. Fourth species is over in theory, and fifth species starts tomorrow. Flute pieces are to be finished
in composition, and Eric Chasalow (his second ka-ching) is reading through them in class. Then we do
ostinato pieces.
This weekend, though, I drove up to Maine -- right after class on Thursday, and I had to return very early
Saturday morning because we'd appointed with Maynard door and window to talk about fixing a roof leak,
getting a new window, and installing a venting fan in the bathroom. Before leaving, I interviewed a
prospective graduate student. And I arrived in Bangor at 6:30, after a breathtakingly eventless drive -except for the WOW factor of getting gas for $2.29 a gallon at the Maine Turnpike rest area. We did dinner
at the Chocolate Grill in Orono, where I like to go because of the fried pickle appetizer. I believe I did a
blackened salmon salad, and Beff didn't. During the day on Friday, I had a pile of counterpoints to grade,
while Beff had appointments at U Maine at 12, 2, and 6. So in the morning we went to the Bangor Mall,
where Beff had to get some stuff at Borders Books, and I walked around aimlessly for a short time, thought
I'd check out the new shopping centers near the mall and ended up in a left turn only lane for getting on the
highway. So I came home, graded my counterpoint homework, all the while watching more Veronica Mars
episodes. I made it to episode 20 of 22, so I took the last 2 episodes home and watched them Saturday
afternoon. I'm finished! I'm free! Also we made sure that the storm windows were installed, and I admired
Beff's new garage door (a week earlier, she tried closing it and it pretty much crumbled in her hands).
And then there was an excellent dinner at the New Moon restaurant in Bangor, where they had some rather
exotic beers on tap, two of which I had -- including Dogfish Head 90-minute IPA. I think I got the chicken.
And then I was up by 5:30 on Saturday morning to drive back (since I had that forecast of mixed precip in
the back of my mind). While passing through Portland, I couldn't help noticing that, instead of mixed
precipitation, there were clear skies. So whatever ocean storm was supposed to graze us, it was taking its
sweet time.
Yesterday was Halloween, and we matched last year's trick or treater quantity: 0. So we more than doubled
it. Meanwhile, I dressed up for Halloween to teach because there was a Brandeis open house and I was
expecting prospectives and parents, but got only one parent. And some of the students in Theory 1 were
dressed to the hilt -- one I didn't even recognize who it was. We crowned a champion of fourth species (Al,
got an obnoxious beeping thing). And my costume was a red and black mask, blue wig, bathrobe and
slippers. It was moist in there. Oh yes, and I had an extremely fun 8:00 meeting, so it was quite an eventful
day -- before I came home and cleared off the driveway of 15 barrels worth of leaves. Thing is -- there are

15 barrels yet to fall, so there will be duplicate work. When that happens, hating it is done by me.
Tomorrow I do a colloquium at Boston Conservatory. Thursday the electricians come back, hopefully to
finish by Friday. And Geoffy has been around -- we did the Blue Coyote Grill for dinner on Sunday because
the Quarterdeck was closed. So Thursday I have to blow off the faculty meeting to talk to the electricians
before they leave for the day, and then come back for an Alvin Lucier colloquium. Yes, things don't rain but
they pour. On top of everything else, the Guggenheim letter pile arrived and I hand-wrote them all. I rule.
No new movies this week, so last week's are still there. Pictures include the beginning of the snowing, a
picture where I realized that I got striking shots if I breathed (it was cold enough to see your breath), and
the hyndrangeas with a little snow on them. Then we have Carolyn and me in our costumes yesterday (Big
Mike took the picture), and some nice shots of trees in the yards a half hour before sunset yesterday. This is
followed by the new garage door (picture taken on Beff's phone) and just me yesterday (pic by Carolyn).

NOVEMBER 8. Breakfast this morning is coffee and orange juice. Because of a long late-night meeting
and an early afternoon appointment, lunch and dinner were conflated: leftover Buffalo wings and leftover
hamburger, plus salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 30.4 and 69.3. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Wouldn't it be Nice" by the Beach Boys. LARGE EXPENSES
this last week are a few things on amazon, ca. $60 and a BJ's Valu-Pak (fire logs, kitty litter, lemons, limes,
fat free cheese), $64. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My senior year in high school I
mondo-auditioned for All-New England. Not only did I audition on trombone with the Hindemith Sonata, I
also auditioned on euphonium with the F. David trombone concerto. Plus, vocal auditions were in quartets
and only two tenors from our school had to staff 11 quartets auditioning. So like entering the lottery with
multiple tickets, I was a multiple winner. They gave out blue ribbons for "I" ratings, and between all 7
auditions I did, I scored four ribbons. Which look damn gaudy if you actually wear them (which I did
once). COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Target
-- no biggie, just that they didn't have the cans of salmon chicken mix that the cats like. COMPANIES
WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Casello Electric. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: If Alito is confirmed, that makes "Judge Alito", both of them five letters. Will I have to put
him on my web page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: shrappicate. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF this week raking and barreling, raking and barreling, raking and barreling. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Buffalo wings and clams. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the grass in
the yards, again. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4.1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Just
this page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is some plastic hangin'
off a package of CD-Rs in boxes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 4 out of 47. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I say it here and it comes out there.
THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Impairs H. Treated. SUBJECT OF
THAT SPAM: Software. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,108. FEATURED FIONA APPLE
LYRIC: I can't help it, the road just rose up behind me. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$2.34. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE Italian caccola, an action figure of Attila the Hun, the snooze button, intransigence.
Running total: 85 barrels of leaves raked and moved so far, with a lot of help from my friends -- none of it
from one of the ka-ching twins. Though there was much assistance in other ways -- for instance, helping to
flatten the cushion on one of the Adirondack chairs, somewhat, and assisting in the assembly of a pair of
bookshelves. I may have gotten ahead of myself, but the number of 85 is pretty impressive. And there are
some leaves yet to fall.
Yesterday when teaching my fundamentals class, I noticed that my watch was an hour fast. Though I know
I set it correctly with the time change. How it got back I will never know. Luckily, I was able to use
strategy to put it where it belonged. And the teaching was fine this week, and it included Eric Chasalow
reading through the solo flute pieces by the students in undergraduate composition -- all of them quite
sophisticated. I blame myself for that. Yesterday's lecture in fundamentals was on popular song forms, and

verse chorus bridge form was all the rage, as I played Beach Boys, Christina Aguilera, Fiona Apple,
OutKast, Julie Brown, and others -- including a special screening of Madonna's Ray of Light video. Theory
I has finally traversed all of the species and we go back to the book tomorrow. As I type this, I have no
memory of what it is I am teaching next. Although I know this week's unit in composition is composing
with ostinatos.
Besides the teaching, there is plenty to report. On Tuesday, The Maids came to clean the house just as I was
on the phone with a colleague in another time zone, so I finished the call outside. Josh Fineberg came over
in a Toyota convertible for lunch, and we did the Quarterdeck and then the Boston Bean House for
espresso. I don't recall what we talked about, but I'm sure it was important. And of course during the day,
there was much more raking to be done. For those playing along at home, I raked 12 barrels from the side
of the garage and in back of the garage that day. Because of teaching and stuff, Wednesday and Thursday
were a bust, but Friday resumed our program.
Meanwhile, the electricians were here on Thursday and Friday, ostensibly to finish the job. They were late
arriving Thursday, which made me late for my 9:00, and I came back home at 2 to check their progress,
after which I had to return to Brandeis for a colloquium by Alvin Lucier (free dinner for Davy and really
great hot and sour soup at the Asian Grill). Beff got back at a reasonable time, and on Friday after the
electricians arrived, it was a day of raking and errands. Indeed, I spent the better part of the morning -beginning at 8 am! -- raking up the entire back yard (12 barrels) and Beff came to help on the tail end. This
was followed by a mondo errand run to Great Road in Acton, and the electricians' van was gone when we
returned. Turns out one of the guys injured himself in the attic while running wires and one guy finished the
day by himself. Geoffy was here and doing his usual chores and rehearsals, and he was treated to -- lights!
-- when he got back. The basic rewiring got finished, and it was very very very very very very very very
very nice to have all the outlets working again, to have the Xerox machine back online, and -- (sound of
oxen making oxen sounds) -- a new vent in the ceiling of the bathroom. Yes, that window fan with the long
extension cord taped to the tile in the bathroom is gone, the dust is cleared from the screen, and we have a
normal bathroom now. Though the guys at Maynard Door and Window still have to pop by to vent it
properly. I noted in the attic that there is a 25-foot venting coil awaiting its final destination. And the rest of
Friday included Beff finishing with Veronica Mars, and me grading lots and lots of homeworks (by my
count about 70 for fundamentals and 10 for theory). Dinner was lovely chicken sandwiches.
Saturday was not just big, it was bigass. It was Big Mike's birthday, though we did not know that in the
early portion of our program, and he was scheduled to make an appearance. As was Carolyn. Geoffy was
around in the morning keeping us conversationful, and meanwhile I got obsessively to work. With the
rewiring finished, that meant the attic no longer had to be box-free. While Beff and Geoff (what a great
name for a comedy team that would be) were coffeeing and talking, I started the haul of boxes and other
stuff that had been languishing for two months in the garage into the attic. At first I carried them to the top
of the stairs and Beff ferried them into the attic. Then we rested. Then phase two was me carrying the boxes
to the front porch, resting, and then carrying them the rest of the way. And that means I can park the
Corolla in the garage again without butt sticking out. I rule.
Meanwhile, Beff had scores and stuff to produce and mail, and we decided to replace the crapful bookshelf
in the upstairs hall with newer ones we'd seen at Staples. So for the latter part of the morning, Beff did a
shop with coupons and a trip to Staples to get those bookshelves, I mailed her stuff, and then raked around
the northern and eastern periphery of the house. Soon it came time for Carolyn to arrive on the 12:13 from
South Acton, so I picked her up, we picked up Buffalo wings for lunchifying in Maynard, and (gasp!) ate
them. And then it was on to the real work. We started the day at 46 barrels of leaves raked and carted away,
and even at that the driveway was covered again. So we worked on the front yard and driveway and carting
those to the woodsy area about 300 feet from the front of the driveway. And then we rested, since that was
21 barrels right there. Then there was the side of the garage, and the far back yard with the apple tree, and I
finished with the wide yard to the west (7 barrels). Carolyn briefly tried carting leaves with the
wheelbarrow, which only made her appreciate trash barrel technology. Beff raked a barrel's worth of fallen
apples into the cedars. And the twain was met. Total number of barrels for the day: 39.
Good thing the weather was gorgeous. When Big Mike missed the appointed hour by two of them, we

called him to find that he had had a party the night before and was late getting started. He arrived just in
time to share our well-deserved rest in the Adirondack chairs. After all, it was his birthday. And as I said,
the weather was oddly gorgeous. Given a choice of raking some more and putting together those
bookshelves, we chose the latter. Big Mike and Carolyn did most of the work on the bookshelves, and it
was strangely dark outside. Well, strangely is a little strong. The bookshelf-assemblage involved lots of use
of Allen wrenches (good night, Gracie), and I pitched in towards the end. I had to take the books off the old
bookshelf, Beff and I moved it to the attic, the cats were nowhere to be found, and when the shelves were
ready they were placed such as to straddle the newly rewired electric outlet on the baseboard. Then Beff
arranged the books on the shelves, remarking unsubtly on the number of Bathroom Readers we own -- okay
Beff, we can get rid of some of them.
Then with total darkness achieved, we played Twister in Big Mike's car (it was the only way for us all to
fit), which magically transported us to the outskirts of the Quarterdeck restaurant. We delighted at his
parallel parking skills ("delighted" is probably not accurate), crossed the street to the restaurant, and were
awarded the bigass booth. Archer Ale was the draught of choice, steamers and Buffalo fingers the
appetizers, and I got the clam roll, Beff and Big Mike the sole with capers, and Carolyn the grilled salmon.
Bad puns were made, especially trying to shoehorn Carolyn's pronunciation of the rap artist 50 Cent into a
mispronuciation of "pieces de clavecin", a joke tailor-made for this audience. And then Beff and I walked
home while Carolyn and Big Mike decided not to see the production they had planned to see.
So on Sunday we did waffles, and Them What Make had predicted cloudy but very nice. And were off by
15 degrees, and it was spritzy all day. So no outdoorsy for us. We did laundry and other things that married
couples do, did lunch, and Beff left for Maine just after noon. So I had to do some more academic stuff, and
drove to Brandeis for a grad composers concert (it was pretty good). Double-fiver James Ricci was there to
comment on how often he perceives that I peruse his website, and the octatonic scale proved yet again its
animal magnetism. In the night I settled down with a dissertation (don't I lead the life) and then realized I
had a promotion package to read, and it turned out to be more work than I had planned on. That will take
some time in the next several weeks.
And finally, I get to report -- Davy's hernia is back. It's little, and might I add cute, but it's got to be dealt
with. Again. I saw my doctor yesterday in order to be referred to a surgeon, whose first available
appointment is December 2. I figure in January it will be fixed, again, by the same guy who fixed it in
2000. Which leads me to -- the MacDowell Colony now informs of admission by e-mail, at which time it
asks a second time when you are available. I asked for 6 weeks in Feb-March/early April and when I get
my dates I will post them here. Because I know you really want to know.
I took a movie of Sunny responding to me saying "Treats!" but it turned out to be boring. So the same
movies are up as in the last two weeks. Meanwhile, I got an mp3 of the Marine Band guys doing Two Can
Play That Game, and it's quite good. Apparently this performance made the bass clarinetist and marimbist
into demi-gods within the organization, and that's gotta be good. And they are not satisfied with it, so they
intend to return to it. Hmm, play really hard music or go with the band on tour to a ton of high school
auditoriums in Texas -- choices, choices.
What's coming up this week? Not a heck of a lot. Today will be a harrowing day with lots of stuff to grade
and prepare. Then the rest of the week should go smoothly. Beff arrives on Saturday instead of Thursday,
and it is my hope that we can more or less finish with the raking portion of this year. On Sunday a bunch
more leaves fell on the front yard and driveway (the corner was covered again), but Monday's winds blew
them far, far away (you'll know when you get there). I like it when that happens.
Today's pictures begin with cats. Cammy tends to lay in the bathroom sink when I get my morning pills, so
there he is. Then there's Sunny with those hilarious glowy cat eyes.Next, the new bathroom vent, Carolyn at
work filling a barrel with leaves, Carolyn and Big Mike flatteing the cushions on the Adirondack chairs, the
ka-ching twins assembling a bookshelf, a single glowy Cammy eye, the bookshelves in context, and
Carolyn's salmon.

NOVEMBER 15. Breakfast this morning is coffee and orange juice. Dinner was a microwave meal. There
was no lunch. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 22.5 and 63.1. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS One of those Adam Guettel songs from "Myths and Hymns".
LARGE EXPENSES this last week is Papalia Plumbing, $204.98. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: These memories are vague, but they involve the new integrated elementary school in St.
Albans and performances in the gymnasium: once I was brought in to play an obbligato recorder part for a
piece with the chorus (which I was not in), and once I played a very difficult clave part in the same context.
Why did this come back to me now? I also remember that I was sophisticated enough at the time to know to
put the ring finger of the right hand on the D-hole to get "F" to come out more in tune. COMPANIES WHO
HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Earthlink, for making this webpage
variously inaccessible last Monday through Thursday, and for not responding to my queries about it.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: Why do leaves keep piling around the back steps? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
fardle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week raking and barreling, raking and barreling,
raking and barreling, just like last week. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Actually, none.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK there is a Dunkin Donuts on my drive to work -- not that I stopped there.
THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Performances, this
page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 2. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 11 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Absence of committee meetings. THIS WEEK'S
FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Flagpoles H. Municipality. SUBJECT OF THAT
SPAM: Software. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,148. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I've
been careless with a delicate man. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.09. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a
Coke bottle, what the cat dragged in, the mother of invention, next year's SI calendar.
Running total: 104 barrels of leaves raked and moved. The "burning bush" bushes (I don't know if they're
called that, but Carolyn called them that, and that's a big ka-ching) still have some a-sheddin' to do, and
some more oak leaves will fall, but by and large, we are by and largely finished. This is the first year that
no one has suggested to me (or Martler, last year) that the leaves being dumped into the woods should be
dumped in a very specific way (I normally wanted to suggest a specific anatomic impossibility in
response). And our neighbor with the bigass fence did the big work of raking the leaves off the sidewalk on
the non-yard side of his fence, which was the work of a good Samaritan if ever there was one. I have to go
to the bathroom.
In order to get to 104, I and Beff (who got in around lunch time on Saturday) spent nearly all of Friday and
Saturday a-rakin'. It was more tedious this time, since the carpet of leaves and stuff was less thick, hence
fewer barrels per hectare (an area of Berlioz, they tell me). There was a whole lot of fardling going on, and
the mini-yard in the back of the garage yielded a big six and a half barrels. Raking that area plus the apple
tree yard yielded grass that had to be mowed, so I actually fired up the lawnmower for the first time in a
month and a half and went a-cuttin'. Some people have told me they mow their leaves, then rake 'em, but I
just don't see that happenin' here.
Lunch when Beff arrived was dumplings from the Asian market, and salad. Dinner was stir fry with a
Trader Joe's "hot and sweet" sauce that we decided we didn't like. The rare dud from Trader Joe's. Tossed it
we did.
Actually, not all of Friday was spent a-rakin'. It turns out that grading and correcting about 100 fifth species
counterpoints is pretty time-consuming, particularly the part about fixing them so that they work. That and
25 complex homeworks for fundamentals. Which reminds me -- I am now officially going to veer away
from how fundamentals was taught last year and in the last 2 weeks after Thanksgiving talk about
realizations of lead sheets (that's prounounced "leed", not "led" -- which would be dangerous, especially if
they were used on your bed. And that's an internal rhyme, so there, smarty pants). 'cause the stony silence
that greeted the "how to do a Roman numeral analysis" lecture was, well, stony. But not leaden.

Also important to bring up was that on Friday we had a plumber here. For some time now --- and now that I
think of it, ever since the new water supply went on line and we no longer had the watering restrictions -we've had to remove the schmutz traps occasionally from the faucets to blow out the calcium deposits that
accumulate and block the flow. There was even a tedious story in this very space regarding that in relation
to our cool new shower head. I had just de-blocked the schmutz trap in the kitchen faucet when the hot
water suddenly stopped flowing freely. It was a trickle, and that hardly even looks like a word. So I called a
plumber, whose first availability was Friday afternoon. He showed up at about a quarter to one, took the
sucker apart and -- uh oh, I got a talkative plumber -- called up to me to see what the culprit was: calcium
deposits. He said that he'd done a lot of blockage calls from calcium deposits in Acton and Maynard, and
that this one was pretty much the most blocked of all. I don't know how much I love participating in such a
superlative, but I may as well mention Carolyn here so that she gets a ka-ching. It took him an hour and
fifteen minutes, and every once in a while he called me over to look at something or explain some nerdy
plumberly thing. We made the joke that I'd see him again in three years for the same problem. And
meanwhile, while we were without running hot water down there, I had to do the dishes in the dishwasher,
which we never do. Yes, I bought Cascade liquid, and yes, it seems using the dishwasher wastes a lot of
water.
The plumber said he used some of my CLR to unclog the faucets before he rebuilt them and that we should
not drink the faucet water for a little while until the system is flushed. So on Saturday I ran the water for a
long time and then tried to make lemonade (since God gave me lemons) using the tap water. It tasted a little
stony, and I couldn't tell if it was the soap from the dishwasher or the tap water, but I had to pour it all out
and redo it using that expensive spring water stuff that used to be for the use of only Geoffy. And now, and
then. And it tasted just fine.
Beff stayed until Monday morning, actually a-risin' at 5 to drive Mainewards, and I didn't get out of bed
until a quarter to six. Nonetheless, I pulled out of the driveway before she did, and I even used a car to do
that.
Oh yes. There was a faculty meeting on Thursday. I wish that would happen less often. It was the "it's an
odd numbered year so we must be drastically revising the curriculum" meeting, and I'm already planning
on what hat I will wear to the 2007 manifestation of that meeting. I think something with feathers, don't
you? The proposed revision of the history sequence was presented by Big Mike, and I included this whole
paragraph just so that he could have a ka-ching.
Now I find out that Speculum Musicae is performing my new piano trio at Merkin on December 20. Oh
lawdy, what is I goin' to do? That's right around the date all my exams are due (I will have 55 of them to
pick up on the 19th), and also the date that the electricians are FINALLY going to be here to finish the job.
So the four months with holes in ceiling and walls will finally come to a stop. We've been putting off
putting the Adirondack chairs in storage for the winter, since we put them on the side porch for that,
making it hard to get to the ceiling where plastering has to happen. I'll figure out something, but it ain't
going to be pretty. Because compared to me, nothing is.
So with leaf raking and another time-consuming chapter of life basically over, it's finally time to get to
work on serious stuff. but first (sigh), lots of homework to grade. I don't think I'll want to do this overload
thing again. Oh, that reminds me. I have undergraduates tugging on my figurative sleeve (I also have some
abstract sleeves, but I save them for Valentines Day) to teach them orchestration, and in the past I've done
that as independent studies. But those don't take enough time. Plus, one of the points in our external review
from 2002 was that students wanted orchestration taught. But that would be a low-enrollment course, not
feasible for our new get-warm-butts-in-Slosberg-chairs curriculum. So, sigh, I may be proposing that the
course exist, limit enrollment to 5, and teach it as an overload (or overlord, as Carolyn (ka-ching) wouldn't
say) next year. And for those of you following along at home, I WILL teach Theory 2 next year, though I'm
removing the 3-part species counterpoint unit, which I hated.
Oh yes, and by far the most time-consuming event of the week was reading Sam's dissertation. I liked it,
though it took a long time to get through it. Now I'm on a task beloved of many full professors, which is
evaluating a promotion file from another university. I can't say whose or where, 'cause it's my little secret (il

mio segrettino).
Dionysus calls. So does Euripides. And Beff let me know that Paula Poundstone likes the Three Stooges,
particularly the episode in which they are tailors and the immortal line is uttered, "Euripides, we mend-adese". Guy humor?
Movies! I got Cammy responding to me saying "Treats" again, and I made another ritual visit to the Ben
Smith Dam. I also put up old movies of our local dogs on the way to downtown (my avant-garde treatment
of them, that is) and an old movie of Drip and Bly, now long dead (which they weren't when the movie was
made). For pictures, I have splashy-splashy at the dam, a line of raked leaves ready to be barreled, Sunny
midst the Buffy DVDs, some holly berries, and bookend kitties that I noticed while a-rakin'.

NOVEMBER 22. Breakfast this morning is coffee, orange juice, and Shaws light vegetarian sausages.
Dinner was fried pickles and Buffalo wings at the Cambridge Common. Lunch was a garden salad.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 21.2 and 67.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine. LARGE EXPENSES this last week is $83
at amazon for fake books and DVDs and $82 at Tower Records for DVDs. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: Standards get you everywhere. I heard that once after an undergraduate composer
concert at Columbia (in a Barnard building) that someone said, "I can tell my piece was pretty good
because even Davy said he liked it". This was said by the same composer who composed what became to
be known as "the stinker" 5th species exercise in my counterpoint class. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is the US Postal Service, not only for the poor
service at the Stow Post Office, but also slow delivery of packages from amazon. COMPANIES WHO
HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What,
really, is "music when soft voices die"? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: kimp. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF this week is grading homewok. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS:
Blackberries, which are a little sour this time of year, just the way I like 'em. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK various music blogs, including one by Doctor Danny Felsenfeld. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8.9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Performances, this page. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK some more wrapping of a package of CD-Rs.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 40 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Absence of committee meetings. THIS WEEK'S
FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Inkiest T. Electorate. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM:
Software. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,153. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I certainly
haven't been shopping for any new shoes. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.02, $2.09 and
$2.27. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE a salad shooter, erasable ink, obscure cognates, a head of lettuce before it's been washed.
Running total: still 104 barrels, plus a few little schmutz piles from various areas. The Adirondack chairs
are now safely stored in the basement for the winter, by the door, and I took care to rake the accumulated
leaves and pine needles that were hiding out underneath and around them. This also means that the cats no
longer have their mid-yard hiding place should the sound of a leaf blower or chainsaw intrude. During the
rain and heavy wind storm of last Thursday, the tarp over the storage shed in the back yard blew off -- I
figured because the very heavy Princeton ropes (they are orange and black) had stretched to the point where
they were no longer snug enough to keep the tarp on. So one of our weekend errands was to buy rope to
replace that morceau de merde stuff and re-secure the tarp. There was a driving rainstorm with big winds
last night and it held, so success seems to be with us at the moment.
Also a quick, but strenuous task for the weekend was the removal of the squat and short rhododendrom in
the driveway. I have hated it for all five years we've been here because during snow shoveling season, it's
near the end of the driveway task, and just as you're getting really fatigued, you have to expend extra effort
to throw shovelfuls of snow over an ornamental bush that doesn't even flower any more. So Beff gave me
permission, and we had a rollicking good time, if "rollicking" has no meaning. The bush had trapped plenty

of leaves midst the fangs of its lower branches, so Beff also raked and carried this schmutz pile away. And
while I don't look forward to shoveling my driveway in the winter, I don't have to worry about my dumb
ornamental crap-bush getting in the way.
In fundamental this week there was a Quiz, and in Theory 1 we are plodding through Kostka/Payne at a
pace that outraces the slow ones and bores the fast ones. Which is always the case. Yesterday in
fundamentals I introduced seventh chords and showed how to notate chromatic alterations of them, and
started them on piano realizations of lead sheets. And I introduced the opposable thumb piano texture (most
of the class voted to be proud of their opposable thumbs) as evidenced in Daydream Believer and Chicago's
I've Been Searching So Long (which sounds like the Days of Our Lives theme the more you listen to it,
which I don't). More to follow after Thanksgiving break. Fully a third of my classes were absent, which
goes to show you -- just as the Christmas season has encroached backwards all the way to Halloween now,
the 4-day Thanksgiving break is now interpreted to be a weeklong break by many students. Well, not "just
as", but close. It's about time for that yearly obnoxious e-mail from some administrative functionary
warning us not to cancel classes the day before Thanksgiving. I've got to learn how to train my computer to
zero in on that one and stick it in the spam box before it even reaches my sensitive little eyes.
And it's time to report that I am ready, really ready, for that spring to be spent on leave. Yeah, baby,
December 12 to September 1 or approximately that. I have started to have vivid dreams with music in them
-- including a dream where music purportedly by me was blaring from a stereo while another sound was
happening, and another one with some other music coming out. That's usually my body telling me to get on
with the creative thing and forget the administrative-teaching crap. And when it can, to get me even more
hepped up, it calls me "loser". Ah yes, I have a third person relationship with my own body. Doesn't
everybody?
I always love doing the Saturday morning errand thing with Beff, as she is usually producing scores and
DVDs to send out to various places, and we have particular specific needs at enough various places that we
actually have to use STRATEGY to get everything to come out even. Take this Saturday. We needed some
firewood, which you can only get at Shaw's right now, and Shaw's is right next to the Stow post office. We
also needed some fruits, vegetables, buns, salad, and various other things that can only be spelled using
letters of the alphabet. So Beff decided she'd go to the Stow post office while I shopped for the stuff we
needed. I picked up a ton of things in Shaws and was waiting for her a LONG time in the cereal aisle
("don't get cereal -- I want to choose it", she said) while little kids at the door of Shaw's were trying to get
you to sign a petition about something. Finally, Beff arrived with the usual stories about waiting in line at
the Stow post office: "I come here about once every three months, only to remember why I don't come here
more than once every three months", etc. I think the tomatoes I had bagged went bad while I was waiting
for Beff, so I just left them behind. And then we went to Colonial Wine and Spirits in Acton because we are
in charge of the wine and beer for the Thanksgiving dinner in Vermont, and then on to Trader Joe's for more
particular things you can't get at Shaws (such as small bags of lettuce, good coffee, stir fry veggies, and
especially frozen potato pancakes).
Then Beff wanted to to TJ Maxx. So I checked out Roche Brothers supermarket -- my third of the day -and got nothing. Beff got what she came to get, and home we went. Finally.
Meanwhile. During the week, our old pal Danny Felsenfeld started up a music blog
(felsenmusick.blogspot.com) and on Thursday night did a little piece on me, giving a pointer to the Buttstix
on this page. At the same time, another blogger brought up his new relationship with Amy D, and a third
blogger, unknown to all of us, commented on the irony and happenstance of all those things happening at
the same time (the other blogs are called Night After Night and Deceptively Simple). Thanks to Danny and
the other guys, this page got a spike in page views (I include this graph because I just found out that I can
get this information):
Thursday was the day Danny posted his entry and Friday was the day of the other posts. And this is the first
time that my e-mail address has ever actually appeared on my web page. It'll be gone next week. Danny
wields vast power.
Saturday night was Eric Chasalow's 50th birthday concert by Auros, which we attended, but skipped the

reception because I had to be up early on Sunday. It was an impressive affair, with a few good
performances and a few not so good ones. His piano and tape piece is a real winner -- the beginning of
sustaining sonorities not just with unisons, but with third and fifth partials as well.
Other tedious events of the week is just reading half of Dewek's dissertation. My function seemed to be to
remove scare quotes, and stir to taste.
Big event of the week was a day trip to Princeton, which is impressive given that nine and a half hours of
the day was spent driving. The rest of the time was spent hearing some very young students of Jim's play
etudes of mine, listening a bit to first edits of my pieces from Jim and Judy's upcoming CD on Bridge (they
rock), taking a nap in the afternoon, and hearing the premiere of etude #63 in a graduate piano recital at
Westminster Choir College. Danielle Ingram nailed it. Note the spike in Davy's barometer, first paragraph.
Alas, there was a half hour delay on the Garden State Parkinglotway on the return trip behind an accident
(if only I hadn't stopped for coffee....). I got home at 1:36 am, and -- incredibly -- answered a bunch of emails. Then slept. Then spent Monday being -- how you say in your language? -- wiped.
And Monday was yesterday. After teaching, seeing Max's piece that he's working on now several times, and
taking a commuter rail to Porter, I did beer with Gil Rose as we spoke of the future, and on the way home I
got some holiday DVDs and -- for nostalgia's sake -- stopped at Cambridge Common for dinner. They have
fried pickles now! So I got them, and they were a little weird -- they were fried pickles all right, but they
were shaped like bread sticks -- cylinders rounded at both ends. But damn, they were fine to have. And the
Buffalo wings did not disappoint. They also did not heavily impress, but they did not disappoint. While
having this meal on my own (along with some Boulder Amber Ale), I delighted in watching a bit of a sports
talk show on ESPN with closed captioning and the spelling errors that inevitably crop up when typing 150
words a minute. The trip from Porter to Brandeis was as I remembered it -- tedious. And dark.
Tomorrow Beff and I drive to Burlington, Vermont for Thanksgiving with dad and siblings. I have to
presume we will be getting a hotel room at a steep discount and arguing over the third pillow. We come
back Friday morning and the cats will be pissed. And will have pissed. A lot. Football will be showing on
TV, and we will continue not to enthrall with stories of lives spent in the arts.
Not many pictures got taken this week. I did figure out why access was forbidden to the two new cat
movies that I posted last week, and have corrected that and left the references up there. I took a new tussle
movie, which is also there. Meanwhile, Sunny's tail got puffy when I played some old files of Drip
meowing desperately, and there it is. I also got Sunny to watch a movie of Amy D. And the cats sleeping on
the bed was way cuter than the pictures would have you believe. At bottom is the desktop picture on the
Windows computer with lots of referential Davys. And no ka-chings for the twins this week.

NOVEMBER 29. Breakfast this morning is orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Healthy Choice
macaroni and cheese microwave dinner. Lunch -- rather late -- was a chunky chicken noodle soup.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 14.7 and 46.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Daydream Believer. LARGE EXPENSES this last week is $99 for Fontographer
upgrade, undiclosed amount for Christmas gifts, $60 at amazon. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: In high school I worked at Warner's Snack Bar in the summer, a drive-in with picnic
tables and a sign where you ordered that read "Absolutely no food at the tables not bought here." Don Swin
and Margaret and their mother and I had great fun making fun of the bad grammar of that sign, and once
the family all went to the snack bar, and Margaret's mother actually got in line and began her order by
asking, "can you tell me which of the tables were not bought here?" COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Font Lab. COMPANIES WHO HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Who reads the
Wall Street Journal for its coverage of culture? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Blxnod (a funny
clown). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is snow (already!). RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: uh, turkey, I guess. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK "Evening in the

Palace of Reason", which I read from cover to cover this week -- excluding endnotes, that is. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK yet more wrapping of a package of CD-Rs.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 0. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 14 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Extreme ease in finding catsitters. THIS WEEK'S
FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Dorab Hunter. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Make
Google your profit maker. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,182. FEATURED FIONA APPLE
LYRIC: I say tell me the truth but you don't dare. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.17 in
Vermont -- though I passed $1.99 at the Shell station in Waltham. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a block of gorgonzola carved into a
miniature replica of the Statue of Liberty, a New York minute, a peacock feather, a Bezier control point.
Running total of leaves raked: still 104. Them what make are back to their old tricks: compare the
maximum temperature of this last week (above) to yesterday's forecast high of 55. And of course with last
week's cold snap and accumulating "shovelable" snow, the weather is on everyone's mind. But not everyone
actually seems to have much of a mind, as yesterday someone (I forget who) asked, rhetorically, when I
thought we would get the first snowfall of the season. Why do people ask me so many rhetorical questions?
A little break in the action was just what the doctor ordered, and the Thanksgiving break was just that
break. After my usual stellar teaching on Monday to a less than full house, there was Tuesday and errands,
Beff drove in from Maine late, and got home near midnight. On Wednesday morning we left for Vermont,
after yet more e-mails answered from students asking if Wednesday classes would be held, whose answer
was given them far in advance at least half a dozen times. As a sidebar, one might note that the Brandeis
student of 2005 asks a lot more questions that have already been answered than the Brandeis student of
1996. Back then the raging question was, "They hired YOU"? And, not less importantly, "you left
Columbia for HERE?"
But that one went rather far afield. Them what make assured us of great driving weather for Wednesday,
and off we went at about 7 in the morning, after breakfast-y items and coffee, and I was the driver. We
hadn't filled the tank before leaving, and we wanted to be free of urban New Hampshire, such as it is,
before pulling off the road, and soon after Bow we took an exit that looked promising, drove about five
miles on a road lined with trees and not a single domicile, turned around, got back on the highway, and took
the next exit. Which brought us into a charming, yet charmless, little village, where we filled up and got
some crumb cake stuff and made our way back to the highway. Noting with the opposite of glee that there
were some rather large iced-over puddles in the service station. After dealing with the mind-numbingly
boring part of the drive (New Hampshire), we delighted at the explosion of scenery at the Vermont state
line, followed soon thereafter by an explosion of snow squalls and, briefly, barely passable lanes. Oh, those
them what make! A portion of the drive between Randolph and Montpelier was spent going 40, behind a
granny-type driver who couldn't be passed because the passing lane was impassable. And eventually, we
got back to full throttle, parked at Beff's dad's condo, did our tumbling routines on the mini-trampoline, and
drove into downtown Burlington for a previously-arranged rendezvous with Troy Peters, a composer and
conductor who is now the head honcho of the Vermont Youth Orchestra.
Alas, the place that Troy chose for this rendezvous had two of my least favorite things in a restaurant:
absence of Buffalo wings and a free-for-all setup of places you stand in line to order stuff, depending on
whether you want sandwiches, coffee or pastries. Despite all of this bad fortune, we had a lovely lunch,
talked of studying composition at Penn, and of Daron Hagen, and spent nearly the rest of the afternoon
standing in one of the free-for-all lines waiting to pay. Beff had tea on a stick (picture below) along with her
food, and I got some Real Tea by whoever it is that makes Real Tea. And the rest of the day was spent in
the condo. On Tuesday it had rained and then then changed to snow, and plenty of ice was evident, and talk
was of an intensifying clipper that would dump 2 to 4, no! 3 to 6! inches on Thanksgiving day. Beff's sister
arrived in the late afternoon and took charge of the neckwards gear (Martler's terminology), which included
the most comprehensive collection of antipasto selections witnessed since the Enlightenment. Meanwhile, I
was reading the book which I mention in the first paragraph, and I couldn't put it down because of the glue
on my hands. Sorry, such an easy joke.

The antipasto meal was good, the sports on TV was constant, and on Thanksgiving I spent the lion's share
of the day grading theory homework while ignoring football. Thanksgiving itself was a relatively pain-free
event, and the snowstorm ended up dumping about 2 inches. In the late morning, Beff and her sister and
brother and I walked to a convenience store to look for Bell seasoning, but got beer instead, since our quest
was for "b" food. After the homework was all graded (total time: five hours, give or take four and a half
hours), I went back to the book, then cut the turkey (I was asked to evaluate whether it was ready, and I
made something up with great authority in my voice: give it another half hour), and we ate. This was an
unusual meal because for once there was no lowfat nothin' -- gravy made directly from the turkey greasin's,
real butter, etc. -- and I made sure to have but one helping of everything. And then I went back to my book.
Beff took charge of the drive back on Friday, and this time the mountains were free of snow, and I finished
the book. At one of the boringest places in New Hampshire, Beff got pulled over for doing 70 in a 65 zone
and both Beff's brother and I wanted to slap some sense into the state trooper, but there was no ticket
issued. We made it back in good time and ---- for the first time this year, there was snow shoveling to do.
Eeew. Not a lot, but it had to be done.
On Saturday Beff had to leave early to drive to Maine to do a gig in the backup orchestra for Anne Murray
at the U Maine Performance Arts Center -- one rehearsal in the afternoon and the gig in the evening. Beff
reports that she even got one solo and a spotlight, but she didn't say on what piece. In the meantime, I liked
Jim 'n' Judy's recording of my old arrangement of "Musician" for voice, violin and piano enough that I
searched through my archives and found the original (from 1990) -- missing the first two pages. So I
entered that much into Finale and made entreaties to Judy on e-mail to fax me the first two pages. Which
happened on Monday. "Musician" turns out to be Son of To Be Sung on the Water, since it was written to
be part of a big set (Six Bogan Poems) built around an arrangement of that song and using the same chords
and motives -- I even located an old letter where I revealed the middleground bass line (which traces the E
hexachord complementary to the voice's opening hexachord and unfolds it in fifths -- probably due to the
presence of a violin), and I nearly broke my arm patting myself on the back.
Once that was done, it was to the Bacchae, where I sat down (on Sunday) and wrote down stuff for the first
time since August 22 (David Sanford's birthday). And I wrote feverishly -- a whole bunch of cues that are
to become mottos for Dionysus and the lion's share of the underscoring of the first chorus of Dionysian
revelers. I did not quote Revel-y, as I am writing for the Lyds with timpani. Since this is incidental music, I
learned how to create more length with our old standbys, repeat signs and big type that says "4x" or "8x" -which the sound guy for the production is going to play with anyway. So with all the x's I estimate I wrote
about 6 to 8 minutes of cues and underscoring in an afternoon. I simply have to reconsider becoming a
minimalist.
The return to teaching on Monday was -- disappointing. In Fundamentals we realized the lead sheet for
Over the Rainbow and in first year theory we harmonized some soprano lines, but really, what's the point?
Oh wait, that wasn't me speaking. In any case, the manifold excuses for missing assignments started to pile
up. And instead of my usual noon exit, I saw two graduate students for consultation on their dissertation
pieces. And I went to the bathroom.
Last night's grading of homework took until 10 at night. Then I discovered that a native OS X version of
Fontographer was now available, paid for it online, and attempted to download it, each time with an error
message that something had been reset by the client. Eventually I got the message that I had downloaded it
too many times (apparently in some worlds, zero is a very large number) and would not be able to do so
any more. Sigh. Either the Font Lab people fix it or I have to call Citibank and deny the charge against the
card. I hate rank incompetence of this sort because it is both rank and incompetent -- hence the term.
The spike in hits on this site from Danny's blog mention, and stuff, finished and I'm back to several hundred
hits a day. As Jim Ricci pointed out, a large number of those hits is likely from search engine bots like
Google looking for searchable text, etc. So I'm pleased to say that this site is the preferred choice of bots
everywhere.

Meanwhile, Chamber Music Society put up a chatty little blurb on me on their web page for the February
16 Double Exposure show, noting that if you read this web page, attendance will be pretty much obligatory.
No, really.
Events this week include a drive to NYC to hear Mindy Wagner's piece with CMSLC, Corolla appointment
at the dealer, doctor's appointment with a surgeon, and an appearance in a reading of a brief set piece
Thursday night for the first annual BrandAID.
The only new movie this week is of Cammy expressing his displeasure with cuisinal offerings, up in yellow
text there (Donotlike). I also put a link to an mp3 of the first edit of "Musician". So there. Today's pictures
include: foliage mixed with winter in Burlington; a traffic sign that seems to indicate that an aerodynamic
grand piano (or a slippery one) lies ahead;three Wiemanns walking in the snow; Troy Peters in a reflective
moment; Beff's tea on a stick; our antipasto dinner from Wednesday night; the cooked Thanksgiving turkey;
and Cammy into extreme exploring.

DECEMBER 6. Breakfast this morning is orange juice and coffee. Dinner was Thai hot and sour soup, and
salad. Lunch was a South Street club and some Inko's blueberry. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS
LAST WEEK 19.6 and 63.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS that Saint-Saens
bacchanalian dance music, whatever it is called. LARGE EXPENSES this last week is $90 for a new
bedside reading lamp for Beff, and the cost of Beff's Xmas present revealed: 4 gig iPod nano, $250.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first year of grad school was also the year that the
complete LULU came to the Met. Claudio Spies got some of us students into rehearsals, and I think I went
to five; I got to know the piece rather well. Twice after rehearsals, Claudio got "Jimmy" Levine to come
and talk to us in the lobby, and we got to make suggestions about staging! Apparently, a staging for the
beginning of Act 3 Scene 2 where Lulu picks up a client at a seedy streetlight was deleted due to our input.
And Levine exhorted us baby composers to send him our work. One of us (not me) actually did so -- and
never received an acknowledgement. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY THIS WEEK is BJ's -- they are OUT of Inko's! COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Apple Computer. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: to quote French
proverbs or not to quote French proverbs? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: n'arace. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF this week is theory homeworks that fail to raise the third of V in minor. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: gourmet tomatoes, gourmet olives, soy salad dressing, Granny Smith
apples, fresh squeezed orange juice. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the singer of "You're a Mean One, Mr.
Grinch" was the voice of Tony the Tiger, and the composer of that song was on the Fame TV series. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 19 (I bend the rules a lot in the last week of classes).
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST
WEEK Beff's reading lamp on her nightstand. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 11 (all of them for Galen). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF
MUSIC this week is 47 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Cat doodies that dissolve within an hour. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME
IN A SPAM: Blaze Mote. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: forthcoming Meediacdations. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,197. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Ah-ah-ah-e-ah-ahhh. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.99 but I see it's gone from $1.93 back up to $2.05 at the station across
from city hall. Oh, those gasoline types! OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a picture that I didn't draw, the future of radio, a naughty bit,
one of those songs that you always knew you knew (burp).
As I type this on Tuesday morning, a big coastal Nor'easter that the them what makes have been direly
predicting for nearly a week is dumping ... nothing ... on us. As recently as yesterday's lunch with the kaching twins, it was noted that the possibility still existed for 6 to 9 inches, and that's just pornographic. I
officially moved the gas can from the storage shed (for lawn mowing) to the garage (for snow blowering)
for the eventuality of what has become nothingness. And THAT will be a title someday.

Running total of leaves raked: still 104. Now any left to rake are snow-covered due to Sunday's storm, and
I don't even know if that is the passive voice. It had better not be, because they already charged my credit
card.
What a week! What? A week? Wha? Ta? We? Ek! Actually -- fairly eventless week, and I suppose the
highlight was Joe Morgan (ka-ching), TA'ing for Fundamentals, being peppered with questions about -tritone substitutions! Geez, he probably thinks they learn secondary dominants and suspended thirteenth
chords this week. (no, but they do learn turnarounds and sus4 chords -- how else am I going to deduct the
cost of the "Help!" soundtrack?) In fundamentals, we actually watched Teen Girl Squad on the AV box, just
so I could teach the 8va sign (which is on the soundtrack transcription I gave them) and grace notes. I also
spent a good amount of time making up the final exam, so that is out of the way. I cling steadfastly to the
Kostka/Payne in theory, though I have my own ways of illustrating its bigass points: to wit, using music
from the Grinch to illustrate melodic sequence (I was asked to reframe the music as a harmonic sequence,
and either I or the music refused to yield). Thursday was spent finding good ways to harmonize full scales
up and down in the soprano and bass. And just wait -- 6/4s are this week and that means -- Borderline!
And ... Gloria! Davy knows his goofy pop cadential six-fours, all right. Oh yes, and I ornamented the
chorales with secondary leading tone seventh chords and augmented sixth chords. Filling their minds with
mush, I am. I also did the final exams for first year theory by doing the Frankenstein thing with some old
ones (yes, yes, putting screws on the side of their heads...).
In composition it was actually a fun week, as the topic is variations. All by themselves, the class made a list
of 12 ways to make a variation. And now (mwa ha ha) they have to use at least four of them. On Saturday
their 12-tone and variation projects get read by an excellent pianist, all because I knew where to go to beg
for fundageness.
Can you tell I'm REALLY READY for the semester to be over? Careful now, slow but steady wins n'arace.
Among more mundane things, the radiator in the master bedroom is bubbling when it comes on in the
morning, leaving a trail of wawa and recently overflowing the little ceramic bowl we got to catch its
drippings. Beff thinks the air purifier has something to do with that, and we will see, we will see. The cats,
especially Cammy, have wanted to go through closed doors at all time, especially the attic, and while
searching for our lighted wooden Xmas tree, I discovered Cammy laid out on a sleeping bag in the attic. I
think I've caused them a little less want of going into the attic by bringing the sleeping bag to the guest
room couch and arranging it with two casual (not causal) kitty sleeping stations. Evidence of my immediate
success is in the pictures below.
Among the time-consuming things of the week included our Friday errands, which we usually do on
Saturday, but this time included car service at the dealer and the MA state inspection and an appointment
with a surgeon -- likely my wittle bitty opewation will be in very early February -- which was the only
suitable hole in my schedule I could find. It also included Beff getting a new bedside lamp, as the cats
knocked her existing one over and broke it, and a walk downtown for three-way bulbs and mailing gifts and
stuff. During our salmon burger dinner, we watched The March of the Penguins on DVD -- on Saturday it
was Horton Hears a Who and the extras that go with the Grinch special while I corrected homework and
Beff made packages of gifts for relatives.
Speaking of gifts, we exchanged our regular Christmas gifts on Friday morning because we will be at
VCCA, away from gift-givers, on Christmas day. So we ended up getting each other vastly smaller and
thinner versions of things we already have and use. Beff got a 4 gigabyte iPod nano, and I got a digital
camera (see pictures below). The digital camera seems to lack functional drivers for OS X, so I have to
capture the shots on the Windows computer. The iPod nano plays tunes AND shows photae, so Beff loaded
a few things up onto it, and is ready to be the coolest person in school this week -- in fact, loading pictures
of each and every colleague who will be giving her that designation. Beff's iPod is engraved "I belong
to/Beth Wiemann" on the back, and I got a FedEx tracking number with my confirmation e-mail -- just for
the heck of it I checked the tracking number to find it had been shipped (for free) from Shenzen, China, and
went to Anchorage and then Indianapolis before coming to Boston. This is such a cosmopolitan present, it
is, it is. Alas, I started feeling pangs of want for one of the new iPods that plays videos....

Then there was dinner at the Quarterdeck on Saturday night with Seung Ah (ka-ching!) and her husband
Peter as a way of doing a key exchange before she takes care of cats while we are gone (big Mike (kaching!) is also doing a week, and Justin about 4 days). We all had Archer Ale, and the Seung Ahs marveled
at the size of the portions. They had to have theirs wrapped.
And one exclamation from Horton Hears a Who is going to make it (back) into our regular exclamations for
a while, and that is: Beezelnut! It is most useful to remember to do it as if in the voice of Tony the Tiger, as
it was the same actor. (in high school after an airing of the show, we used "Yopp!", "Boil That Dustspeck"
and "A person's a person no matter how small" a lot -- though we didn't appreciate that the voice of Horton
was Edward Everett Horton. Who doesn't sound anything like Carolyn Davies (ka-ching!).
Sunday I was to drive to New York to hear Mindy Wagner's Emily Dickinson songs, but the weather got in
the way. I stayed home instead, wrote some Bacchae, and shoveled. And spent time on a letter for a
promotion in another department. And what it is, too. I also took care of eleven letters for grad school
applications, none of them mine.
In fundamentals yesterday, one student finally identified the "four rhythms" I had posted on the online
course materials for the course, and I promised a cheap or nearly worthless prize. Having realized that the
prize in theory for the same identification was actually pretty cool, I hopped to the Dollar Store to find
some cheap but nifty things, and encountered what can only be called optimism for the old way of
composing. See the "tonality" link up to the left.
And I scheduled my little operation for Groundhog Day, which brings with it two other appointments: a
pre-op checkup and a meeting with an anaesthesiologist, neither of which came with the previous one. I
hate it when that happens.
There were no good new movies to be made, so I made a movie of the kitchen faucet dripping (on
purpose). Happy viewing! Of the pictures below, the first two were taken with the tiny new camera: the
Powell flute factory in Maynard, and the roster for the Sit N Bull Pub. Follow this with Cammy-In-A-Box
and the cats fascination with the new placement of the sleeping bag in the guest room. Then there is size
comparison of the new iPod nano and teeny camera, the counter after I make fresh squeezed orange juice,
and evidence of Beff's footprints and tire tracks after I shoveled Sunday's snow.

DECEMBER 13. Breakfast this morning is orange juice, coffee, and Trader Joes vegetarian sausage patties.
Dinner was hot and sour soup and salad. Lunch was ... actually, I didn't get around to having lunch.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 12.6 and 39.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the Grinch song from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. LARGE EXPENSES this
last week are none that I recall. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The only time I drank in
actual class time was my year at Stanford, in my Tonal Composition class. I had announced in one class
that I had gotten engaged (unsurprisingly, to Beff -- less unsurprisingly, over the phone), and in a
nonchalant way. In the next class, the students surprised me by bringing cheese, crackers, cake, and
champagne. Which, of course, we had to consume. After half an hour I tried to deliver, or salvage, part of
my prepared lecture (as back in those days of more hair and such unfulfilled potential, I prepared my
lectures), and failed utterly. So we finished the champagne. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Oregon Scientific. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none at the moment. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: where do I
put all the stuff from my office whilst I'm on leave? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: orkle. THINGS I
HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is lead sheet realizations. Only because I've seen 105 of them in
the last week. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Granny Smith apples. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK there actually is only one way to skin a cat. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8.
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST
WEEK are none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 1.
DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 9 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT
BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Perpetual Bermuda High. THIS WEEK'S

FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Fiera Mcelwee. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re:
fomentation toiletware. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,225. FEATURED FIONA APPLE
LYRIC: But your heart will not oblige you. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: I didn't buy gas
this week, but the station across from City Hall is up to $2.15. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE all of my imaginary friends, a
misplaced modifier, a stamp with my picture on it, seventeen ways till Tuesday.
I have taught my last class until late August (big woo hoo there pardner), and still have a mammoth pile of
grading to undertake before being scot-free sinks in. Indeed, I spent all of last evening poring through a pile
of Fundamentals homework (how many ways are there to unfold the chords of "Christmas Time is Here"?
Apparently, one) as well as a few early final exams, and still have today to plow through some stuff for first
year theory. I very much did enjoy yesterday's very full plate, as it involved the one day per term when the
teachers suck up to the students instead of the other way around. Yes, on Pass Out the Course Evaluations
Day, it has become customary to feed the students goodies, and my part of that now ancient ritual was to
buy 24 Dunkin Donuts, 100 Munchkins, a gallon and a half of orange juice, and plastic cups. Alas, since
both Seung Ah's section and mine had to meet together owing to Seung Ah's Amsterdamian performance,
the Theory 1 numbers were vast -- and they left mere skin and bones (such as is possible with
doughnutware) for the fundamentals students. In both morning classes I passed out final take-home exams,
fielded as many questions as I could, stood on the piano bench to appear taller (excuse me while I kiss the
ceiling), and excused each class at least 30 seconds early. One student in fundamentals undertook enormous
effort to compose "The Davy Song" using some rules taken from the "cow" handout, and we listened and
watched the score on the screen. While meanwhile, I played some minuets past for the Theory students
(who are already thinking forward to the spring).
After which I had to do a noon meeting to discuss the theory curriculum with my colleagues who teach it
(since it's an odd-numbered year, we have to do these ancient rituals, alas, without doughnutware).
Professor Keiler, who wishes to remain anonymous, was unable to make the meeting, but he presummarized it pretty well: nothing gets done at these meetings and they are a complete waste of time. But
hey, I'd rather do that for an hour than clean sewers. Which is a pretty odd perspective. The rest of the day
took me through undergrad composition and a long session with Max (and more importantly, Mingus), and
a home arrival at dusk, at which time I had to renew a prescription, make dinner, and go through homework
after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after
homework after homework after homework after homework. Practically an orkle of fun.
Meantime, the gentle reader must be aghast (or a-gassed -- we now have helium at home and in the office)
that it has taken until the third paragraph to bring up the weather. When last the intrepid reader (or gentle -can't we be both?) encountered this space, a Northeaster was dumping exactly zero snow on the area,
saving it for "the cape and the islands" (the most used phrase on news radio 1030) and the Atlantic Ocean
(where's the Gulf Stream when we really need it?), and snow showers were predicted for Friday. Quickly,
them what make upgraded the forecast to 3-6, no 6-10, no, 4-7 inches of snow and Weather Bug chirped
merrily with every one of them. What actually followed was a truly magnificent storm the likes of which is
rarely seen around here. Two storms merged right over us (them what make didn't say which was female
and which was male), and for about two and a half hours there were severe whiteout conditions that I
haven't seen here before (they were common in St. Albans). The whiteout wound down in 15 minutes to
flurries and in another 5 minutes to a pretty orange and blue sunset and clear skies. Beff and I trudged
outsidewards to rearrange nature's snow placement as it was winding down, and were quite taken with how
it seemed to stop entirely in the time it took us to put on our boots.
I was pleased that the snowblower was able to start -- for the first time in ten months -- as rearranging
nature's snow placement while protecting a hernia would have been not much fun. But first I snow raked
(Hillary loves to do that) the garage and mud room roof before trundling up and down the driveway. I
would like to report how much fun it was, but it actually wasn't. Though I guess it's always fun to add a
layer of stuck snow to the porch and the trees that line the driveway. On Saturday morning I did an
additional shovel of the flat roof over the sun porch and measured 14 inches of snow. Rare to have that
much this early in the season. Last time we had this kind of storm (I was teaching theory 2 at the time) this
early, we had ... no ... snow for the rest of the season. Well, actually, we had no storms big enough to

require the big machinery. And three weeks after that storm it was 60 on New Years Day and I was taking
pictures of prematurely budding plants at the Acton Arboretum. And Beff was trying to get a movie of a
train arriving at West Concord. But this seems like a rather big sidebar.
On Sunday there was a lot of feverish time spent writing music for The Bacchae,and my sketch pages are
now to about 10. I still have somre more character music to write, but a large part of the substance for
future musical cues is just about done. My goal of getting it at least written, if not entered into Finale, by
the time we leave for VCCA next Thursday seems possible. But first, more grading, and about 50 final
exams to grade next week beginning Monday at noon.
And as usual, Beff and I did errand day, moved this week to Saturday because Friday we spent the day
being fascinated by the storm. Well, actually, we walked downtown during the beginning of the storm and
did minor errands, gave a bone to the dog at Maynard Door and Window, arranged to have the driveway
and walkways done while we were gone, and got our boots snowy. Good thing we got that done before the
whiteouts. Saturday we did Shaw's in order to use coupons and ended up doing a giant shop. I also
managed to shovel the snow off of the mud room roof (more difficult because it slopes) because the guys at
Maynard Door and Window said they'd come by and slather some tar on the join with the house, now that
some moisture is getting in (they didn't).
On Wednesday I shopped at BJ's -- where I did find Inko's and got three 12-packs -- and got two helium
canisters for the fun of it. I gave one to Carolyn The Ka-Ching for use in the office (it works) and one for at
home (it works, but Beff needed several tries to do it without coughing). It's now back to workaday use for
the helium, whatever that might mean. And at home, it's to the cellar for it. Lots of people wanted to let us
know that helium can cause brain damage. So to counter that I made sure not to start smoking this week
and not to have a conversation with a Republican. The latter doesn't actually cause brain damage, but it sure
makes my brain hurt.
Ken and Hillary came over on Sunday for Buffalo wings (Neighborhood Pizzeria downtown), and we had
great fun, especially after returning home and trying some Tuaca (our Amaro-substitute), and me getting to
show funny stuff that's come onto the computer since the last time they were here in August. And we even
played some of a Pink album. Whatever happened to Pink? Let's get this party started!
Meanwhile, I am kind of supposed to drive into and out of NYC for a quickie Speculum Musicae
performance next Monday, and I don't know if I can do it -- the timing sort of sucks. The exams get
collected at noon, the concert is at 8 (Merkin Hall), and the electricians arrive for their last hurrah at 7:30
on Tuesday morning -- like Cartman saying to Jesus on the South Park pilot: "your birthday is on
Christmas? That sucks, dude." 20 years ago the biggest thing I wanted to happen to me professionally was
to be performed by Speculum Musicae. This week the same thing unfortunately turns almost into a
nuisance. But hey -- if you're in New York on the 19th and wonder what a piano trio movement called
"Felinious Assault" sounds like, Merkin Hall is the place for you. And crap -- Aleck Karis (hey! both names
have five letters!), Curt Macomber and Chris Finckel -- talk about the Mount Rushmore of piano trios (is
that mixing metaphors or something?).
So there are very few plans for the week beyond Bacchaeness and grading. Lunch with Elaine Wong today,
Carolyn the Ka-Ching does a Messiah Sing this afternoon that I can't make, and Big Mike the Ka-Ching
comes for dinner on Friday to prepare him for cat doody duty while we are gone. Then Monday la merda
batta il ventaglio. At some point in the next ten days, the hyper-extended phrase "I'm freeeeeeeeeee!" will
escape my body. Until then, it won't.
I have a cute little movie of Sunny on the mud room roof just outside the computer room (see yellow text),
parts of which are sped up. Of course, this week's pictures are overwhelmingly weathecentric. The whiteout
as viewed from the front door followed by two shots of snowblower detritus: on the trees in the driveway
and on the side porch. Then the sunset that followed the storm by about 10 minutes. Next, some snow
slowly peeling off a telephone pole on Saturday, and the sign across from our house that unexplainably has
clamp pliers clamped to it. Then Beff in line at Shaws, and Cammy discovering the dripping from the end
of the radiator in the master bedroom.

DECEMBER 21. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was champagne and some
brown crackers with high-cholesterol spread. Lunch was salad and an excellent Tom Yum soup made from
a jar. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK -1.3 and 43.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS American Woman. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include an Apple keyboard
at Comp USA, $31.49 including tax, a large paper cutter, ca. $180, and a $300 down payment for yet more
work on the house (storm window for the computer room, vent for the bathroom fan, sealing for the mud
room roof). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I took four graduate seminars with Milton
Babbitt, the kind you love -- no papers to write. The seminar was essentially the same class with four
different names: Orchestration, Advanced 12-Tone technique, History of Theory Since 1850, and Analysis.
They were fascinating, and so rich with detail that I forgot everything within an hour of the class. One Bach
chorale analysis was absolutely virtuosic. And I forgot that, too. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Staples. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Staples. This is not a contradiction. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY:
where do the ashes that Beff sweeps into the little hole in the fireplace go? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: slodge. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is urgent and pleading requests to
extend deadlines that have been well known since September. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS:
Boca burgers and Real(tm) Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK my music is not pretty. THIS WEEK'S
NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, bio page, Reviews 3.
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 11. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE
FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 21 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE
IN CHARGE: Oval office residents who have actually read the constitution. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED
FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Fiera Mcelwee. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: fomentation
toiletware. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,227. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Oh, you
silly stupid pastime of mine. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.17 at the Exxon on Route
27 near the Ace Hardware. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a magnifying glass, copy of the Constitution of the United
States, all the different ways to spell "scrumpdillyicious", a downward trend.
Finished! I actually said that twice in the last eight days. The second time was about an hour before I posted
this, meaning I finished my grading (1 pm Monday to 11 am Wednesday), posted the grades online, and
filled out the required forms. I would have taken a picture of the pile of exams (51 of them) plus lastminute completed homework (some of it faxed), but that would have just been silly. And now to ... this
update.
Last week's absence of having to teach was filled up by much homework to grade, but when that was
finished I applied myself to the writing of the music for the Bacchae, and late on Saturday I got say
"finished!" It turns out I was wrong. There is a LOT of music -- 33 pages of oblong two-system score paper
-- and I didn't want the Lyds to have to learn a lot more, given what they are being paid. But later I decided
that the scene where Pentheus's mother has Pentheus's head on a stick and thinks it's a goat's head needed
some underscoring. So I will do that later. Meanwhile, there turned out to be (so far) 32 cues, some of them
quite long, some of them quite short. Coryphaeus -- someone who emerges from the chorus to ask a few
questions -- has bitonal major triads. I used all the tricks, you see. So on Sunday I started entering the music
into Finale, and got the first 16 in. Then work interrupted, and I can go back to entering the music as soon
as I finish typing this putrid thing. And I will, Oscar, I will.
So Monday morning I got to Brandeis at my accustomed 6:50 in order to enjoy the building while it was
quiet, do some work, get the last stuff out of my office before I go on leave, etc. I had loaned my building
and master keys to Derek Jacoby for his weekend recording session and was going to get them back that
morning. But of course the building was locked and Derek had my key and I didn't know what number I
should call to be let into the building. So I called the Brandeis number, which announced that its offices
were closed, but I could reach campus police by dialing 9. Which I did, and the police guy barked "this is
the emergency number. Call 6-5000 next time". And when I was freezing my fingers off while no one
came, I did call that number. Same guy. Barked. "Didn't you call me already. It takes time for people to get

there". The "conversation" was cut off before I could reel off my hundred or so replies that dripped with
sarcasm. So good you won't want to miss a drop! So I did get let in and later I walked up to Brown to
examine an AV cabinet that was proposed for 212 Slosberg. I took a picture of it with my cell phone and emailed it to Mark, who now is showing it to our own faculty. And when I got back, the exams piled up,
though of course you can't trust students actually to read, on the exam itself, "Due at noon SHARP on
Monday. Late exams will not be accepted." Of course, plenty were still not there when I left at 12:45.
Aargh! On the way home I stopped at CompUSA to get an Apple keyboard simply to have the CLEAR key
to use with the Power Book when entering notes in Finale during this colony hop. Really I did.
As I type this I see roofers at work on the house two houses to the west, and I kind of wonder what the
point of doing roof work at this time of year is. Unless they are getting leaks, I guess. That explains the
agitation of the cats yesterday afternoon from the sound of the snow being shoveled off of the roof. At the
time I wondered what the point of shoveling snow off of a sloped roof was, but I need wonder no longer.
You will never get back the 30 seconds it took to read this paragraph.
Not much of Friday was spent doing Bacchae music, as Beff and I were doing the usual important stuff and
there was another significant storm -- this one freezing rain changing to all rain. Mainly, we spent time
getting ready to be in Virginia until MLK Day. We have THREE house/catsitters lined up for our absence
(Seung Ah, Big Mike (ka-ching!), Justin), and now there is plenty of the stuff they will eat -- they only like
the Friskies shredded salmon and chicken cans, and they shun almost every other canned food -- and plenty
of cat litter, etc. Shopping was a real joy, though I didn't realize that no one has plums this time of year. So I
have peaches, and I actually like them. Don't you hate it when that happens?
I also had lunch with Elaine Wong on Friday at a place in Waban (not the Wed, Wed, Wed one) and we got
such a variety of nouvelle entrees that we could have eaten to the point of explosion. Elaine took her
leftovers home. I didn't. For those not in the know, Elaine is a Dean of Undergraduate something, but not an
important enough Dean to have her own parking space. At one point she asked me how I became such a
great teacher (a designation that made my brain go "ping"!) and I think my first response was, "I fold it in
half". I'm not sure if she got, or needed to get, the reference.
The reason my dinner last night was champagne was that I got an e-mail from the Provost's secretary on
Monday asking if I could meet the Provost to "talk about teaching" some late afternoon before classes
started back up. I shared this premise with Beff, who speculated that I was getting a teaching award -- at
which point I thought back to lunch with Elaine -- and I said, "oh crap, I would have to turn it down."
"Why?" "Oh, I just don't think teaching is something that should be competitive. It's just what I do." "Well,
you get awards for composition and you accept them. Isn't that also something you do?" Zing. So instead I
told myself I was going to be invited to be on a University committee on teaching that meets eight hours
every week and then goes to classes to observe and polls students on their reactions to teachers and writes
long reports that take forever to get to the point. I was desperately hoping to be wrong.
So I went in to work yesterday for the Tuesday 4:30 appointment I had made, parked in the small Slosberg
lot, said hi to Carolyn (ka-ching!), talked a bit to Max ("Why you here?" "Meeting" "Who?" "Provost."
"Money?" "Dunno."), saw some of my colleagues looking at the AV cabinet picture on Mark's computer,
and arranged the particles of dust on one of my bookcases. Then I walked to the Provost's office and was
surprised to see several of my colleagues, who were recently looking at pictures of an AV cabinet, in the
office. Yehudi arrived and I knew the jig was up. The door to the office opened, and there were the Provost
and Dean, Elaine Wong, a bunch of my scores and CDs, a Brandeis envelope with my name on it, a bottle
of champagne, and some expensive snacks. And what happened next felt like I was playing out a scene
from "A Beautiful Mind."
A bunch of super-smiley faces surrounded me as I did the ritual of opening the envelope to read what was
inside (I knew by now what it was going to say), and a little later I got some esprit d'escalier -- when the
Dean asked, "so what do you think?" I should have said, "give me time. I'm still on the first word." But
instead, I think I said, "Cool." Nobody gave me any pens like in that scene from A Beautiful Mind, but I did
get a named Chair. As of about 4:33 yesterday afternoon I am the Walter W. Naumburg Professor of
Composition, and Yehudi is the Walter W. Naumburg Professor of Composition Emeritus. What do I get out

of it? Free stationery and the obligation to use that title when dealing with the media (apparently, including
CD-Rs). And all the champagne I could drink in 30 minutes. The reader who has followed this space for the
last fifteen or so months can savor the irony in the whole situation. So I drove home (yes, I stayed in my
own lane), scanned the letter (which calls me "Davie" and says it's in recognition of my "scholarly
accomplishments", among other things -- yes, it's a form letter, but at least it's not a foam letter) and emailed it to Beff. And now I guess I have to start wearing lifts. (Beware of Greeks wearing lifts!)
Meanwhile, other little dramas played out this week, not the least including the quest for a paper cutter I
can use to trim 11x17 sheets down to 11x14 sheets. I did that with the parts to Dream Symphony, and there
were a lot, and the cutter I have is only 12 inches wide. So the process of measuring 14-inch cuts was quite
cumbersome, and it involved an external ruler. So Beff made it high priority to find me a good bigger one,
and her father -- a retired architect who eats this kind of hardware for breakfast (and yet still has his own
teeth) -- arranged to have one sent. It arrived and was ... 12 inches ... wide. And you can't fold it in half. So
I drove to Staples to see what they could offer because the online catalog was pretty vague for paper
cutters, and I looked in the Staples catalog, and there was one -- right there -- with the correct dimensions,
which I ordered online on Friday. And it arrived on Monday and it is ... perfect!
I had also ordered mailing bags from Staples on the 6th, and the online webpage predicted a December 15
delivery. On the 20th it predicted a December 15th delivery (at last check, it still does) with the notation
"Shipped from Warehouse. Click here for tracking information". Which says DEC 7: BILLING INFO
RECEIVED. Three calls to Staples were required to confirm that -- it never shipped. Though my credit card
was charged on the 16th (Beethoven's birthday). Staples offered to resubmit the order for delivery around
December 30 (when we will be in Virginia), and I asked if traditionally the point of ordering stuff online
was that you order it, pay for it and it gets delivered. So I politely asked not to reorder. And at last check,
the Staples guy's statement that "your credit card has been refunded" turns out to be false. So there you go:
the Janus that is Staples.
My piano trio was done on a Speculum Musicae concert on Monday and of course I couldn't go -especially given the transit strike -- and it is reviewed in today's New York Times. Dudes and dudettes, the
news is -- I ain't pretty. Especially the moment I wake up/Before I put on my makeup.
So on Friday we drive to Burke, Virginia to stay with the Lieutenant Colonel Colburn family overnight,
after which we do the 3-hour drive to the VCCA on those lovely rolling Virginia Hills. The part I do NOT
look forward to is that short stretch of malls, etc. in Charlottesville you have to drive through, and on the
Saturday before Christmas. Beff will hear a lot of "I hate this..." and be saying a lot of "Now, now." And by
lunchtime I will return to my other life, that of -- composer. Which is cool, 'cause I still get to be the Walter
W. Naumburg Chair of Composition. Chair and Chair alike. Indeedy.
Beff, of course, wants me to mention that we did our usual Friday morning walk downtown, and that was
during a heavy rain falling on top of what had been freezing rain, so just using the sidewalk was a major
adventure, especially given that the first 500 feet of the walk is downhill. On our return, we vowed to do
the alternate route via what we call the "Harley Bridge", but an enormous puddle blocked us from doing
that. Unsurprisingly, when we got back, we were soaked.
And -- excitement of excitements -- the house is finally completely rewired. Electricians were here 7:30 to
11:00 yesterday bringing more circuits up to code and plastering ugly holes that we've been looking at for
months. Alas, they did not completely plaster where they should have under the lights in the sun porch, but
I guess that's okay. And there's a quad outlet next to the sink instead of a bi with a threefer extension (this
may be the first time in history that sentence was uttered in the English language).
There are two new movies up there for your enjoyment -- yet another example of how the cats react when I
say "Treats," and a nice one of Cammy in the bathroom sink craving affection. I was Bacchae-busy this
week, so not many photos were taken. By me. Just the way we discovered Sunny in the sleeping bag in the
guest room on Friday morning, and an old picture of the Ka-Ching twins on the day of the Big Rake. Big
Mike is actually reading a medieval manuscript, while Carolyn makes fun of his shirt.

Next update: January 17, 2006, including the pictures of the year review. And a big YO to my homeys in
Chicago, as I will be there January 18 to 21.

2006
JANUARY 14. Breakfast this morning was Trader Joe's potato pancakes, rice sausages, tangerine juice, and
coffee. Lunch was tom yum soup, sushi spring rolls, and Turkey Hill green tea. Dinner last night was
Shaws sushi and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST THREE AND A HALF WEEKS 14.5
and 58.5 (where we were, it was probably about 25 and 66). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I
TYPE THIS Snowbird, by Anne Murray (thanks to Beff remarking about having the check stub from that
gig). LARGE EXPENSES this last three and a half weeks include a portable DVD player, $169 after
rebate, various pizza-making hardware which we brought back with us, $40 or so, and a 250 gig hard drive
from J&R for Beff, $159. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: the first time I went to the VCCA
was during my Guggenheim year, 1990-91, and I flew there. Having no car was a bummer, as it's at least a
2-mile walk to anything. The Griffin ensemble was doing my violin concerto (its only performance) that
fall (conducted by Lucky Mosko), and I spent the first week and a half of my residency copying parts for
the new movements. Then I wrote the "allegro" of the first movement of my symphony. A little ways into
the residency, four writers from Russia arrived as part of some bizarre exchange, and one of them attached
himself to me. The translator occasionally refused to translate for us, but we did communicate in all the
German we knew. Example: "ah, wasser ist gut". One night he tried to roust me from bed for a vodkafest,
and instead I ran to my studio and stayed up all night writing the transition that followed the climax.
Meanwhile, I lost at poker several times, as I had not learned never to bluff with those people.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Barnes and
Noble, but only because the one in Lynchburg doesn't sell Fanfare Magazine. COMPANIES WHO HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Kroger, for having some nice gourmet stuff that bucked the
trend of southern blandness. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: when a place has a "vibe", does that
mean it doesn't go lower than F? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: krishoola. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF this last three and a half weeks is driving, and the many different ways of serving
black-eyed peas. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hamburger dill pickles, Mezzetta antipastos,
and ice water with key lime (no sweetening) added. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Route 29 bypass -which now bypasses the VCCA entirely. The driving directions given by the VCCA do not reflect the new
reality. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page,
Reviews 3, list of compositions, main page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS
LAST WEEK are -- unknown. Possibly a bowl. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS THREE WEEKS: 18. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF
MUSIC this week is 19 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: a four-month academic year. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM:
Bird Glenna. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,303. FEATURED
FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I don't understand about complementary colors. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE
THIS WEEK: $2.15 in Maynard, $2.19 on Jersey Turnpike, $2.17 in Amherst, Virginia, $2.29 in Amherst 3
weeks later, and $2.39 in eastern Pennsylvania. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the back of my head, two ways of looking at a
blackbird, the length of your lips, a bucket of tar..
As this writer (call me third person guy -- or, whoops, um, first person guy) is now on leave, don't expect
regularity in days of the week for these updates. I type now because we got back from our three weeks in
Virginia yesterday and the unpacking and computer-sync'ing is just about finished, as well as the shopping
for staples, etc. We had planned to drive back tomorrow, but that would have left precious little time before
Beff had to drive yet further, to Maine, so we settled on a day earlier -- but the forecast of buckets of rain
caused to shove yet a day earlier. So now let me skip around (or as third person guy would say, let him skip
around) in the events of the last three weeks.
First, Beff got back from Maine in the middle of the day on the Thursday before Christmas (a holiday we
acknowledge and celebrate despite being liberals -- take THAT, O'Reilly), we packed, and made double

sure that everything that was needed to be brought was brought -- indeed, this turned out to be the first such
trip where we did not leave behind something very important (such as, during my last Virginia visit, the
power cord to my iMac). We set up Seung Ah, Big Mike, and Justin in the saddle for the catsitting, and
shoved off around 6:45 on Friday. An eventless drive down the Merritt, NJ turnpike, Delaware and
Maryland turnpikes, etc. -- including a stop at one of the two giant rest areas in Maryland -- got us to Chez
Colburn by about a quarter after two, where we decompressed naturally (no steroids), and stayed inside for
quite some time. We got served some nice taco-style chili (as in, add what you want, and that included
cayenne pepper, which I had never seen before) and, of course, overate -- hey, we were at a Lieutenant
Colonel's house. In the evening, we watched a film about music of gypsies, done in a Hollywoodish fashion
with faint narratives and very high production values -- it was fascinating as the music moved from east to
west to hear how the music became more triadic and functionally tonal. The underlying narrative,
meanwhile, either made no sense, or were left out entirely. I mean, bricking over a doorway to signify the
nomadic existence? How film school.
So anyway, we shoved off at 7 on Christmas eve day and got to the VCCA by 10, where it was brightly
sunny and somewhat cold. Nonetheless, little ground snow was in evidence (we left Maynard with a foot -of snow, that is. Or as third person guy would say, THEY left Maynard). We filled the tank, bought a car
wash, and were denied both the car wash AND the refund. The car wash finally happened several days
later. We stopped at the Food Lion supermarket to get some snacky things four our studios, and then made
for the VCCA. The traffice pattern was a little different, but not troubling, until I noticed that the entrance
to the VCCA was neither within a mile and a half of Amherst or -- 13 miles of it. In a mild panic, I asked
Beff to read the driving directions, and we followed them. So as an experiment, we turned around at the
exit for Natural Bridge, drove back to Amherst, and set off onto BUSINESS 29 instead -- where the VCCA
entrance now is. Turns out the bypass is now open, the old Route 29 is now Business 29, and the VCCA
didn't bother to tell anyone driving there about that. So we arrived, there was plenty of slippery ice around
that resulted from an earlier ice storm -- as well as some piled up branches -- and we set up our stuff in our
respective studios (Beff: C2, moi: C3) and unpacked in our little room. VCCA has two rooms for couples,
and we found out later that there were THREE couples there. So we got the couples room with two single
beds -- last time we were there together we got the king size bed.
My working habits included filling an extremely large plastic Coke-themed glass with ice and water and
squirting key lime juice into it and drinking it as I worked, as well as various places of rest for pickles,
pepperoncini, and olives. Naturally, I was a regular at the rest room. Lunch and dinner was served in the
main residence, and lunch was done buffet-style in the barn complex where the studios are. In both our
cases, since it had been so long since we had had real time for work, we dutifully traipsed studiowards after
dinner and did even more work. And I didn't watch TV once, except to glance at a little of the Redskins
playoff game.
And we worked on Christmas day -- we did presents and stuff before we left. At that time, I finally finished
all the music for the Bacchae, emailed it off, and sent a printed copy to the quartet. The very last cue -- a
sort of dirge -- is the one that sounds the most like me. Unless you hear it played by the computer. It was
easy to send the cues by e-mail, as there were two wireless hot spots on the compound. Both were powered
by satellite, and failed in rainy weather. And for some odd reason, there were plenty of signs all over the
place imploring us colonists not to download music files -- as if web pages nowadays weren't as big as
music files. Slowly we settled in and got to know the writers, composers and visual artists there, and dealt
with the very quick turnover that happens there. As is usual for such places, the inhabitants were at various
points in their careers, and some were intensely focused on their work while others were not. The median
age of artists went way down after the new year and then back up a little, whereas the median age of
composers increased very slightly (since we aged three weeks there). My old friend Dan Sonenberg was
there when we got there, and Tom Cipullo came a little later, and both were essential to the larger existence.
Whatever that would mean. Tom is working on an opera (isn't he always?) and Dan on a flute and harp
piece (isn't he never?).
Meanwhile, Beff got plenty done in the residence: a whole piece for flute, clarinet and video (featuring our
cats), a 2-marimba piece, 2 songs, and some orchestration on HER opera. As to me, after finishing up the
Bacchae, I retrieved all my hand drum stuff -- pictures, digital camera movies, and some pictures from the

internet, studied them as closely as I could (not very), and dashed off three movements: the first is for
frame drum, the second for talking drum and tabla, and the third for canning jar and bongos. Since Beff and
I continued our tradition of afternoon walks at VCCA, we used that time for titles, and as usual, Beff had
the funnier ones. The hand drum piece was finished on New Years Day and I called it "Snaggle". The first
movement is called "Framer's Intent", and Beff titled the other two: Mr. Trampoline Man and Preserved. I
e-mailed scores to Michael Lipsey -- who commissioned them -- and hit the ground running.
The next piece was for Barbara Haney, about to retire as the Marine Band's bass clarinetist, for solo bass
clarinet. The idea was (yawn) different characters for the music on different sides of the break (having a
clarinetist as a wife certainly ingrains the break into you), and also to ape some of the TEN OF A KIND
licks Barb had to wail on in a most exposed way. That one turned out to be six minutes, and I called it
LIVING LARGE. Really. After those pieces were done, I started thinking about etudes that Don Berman
asked for, but those didn't come right away. So I finished my time in residence with two etudes specifically
written to finish Book VII (which I can now send to the publisher, etc.): #69 is a slow and pretty,
understated cluster etude (I try to go against type sometimes) and #70 turned out to be one of the hardest
etudes of all 70: in name, on sharp dynamic contrasts. In feel, really fast be-bop with a bit of attention
deficit disorder (hence the crazy extreme dynamics that change very fast). Beff named both of them: Palm
de Terre (as most of the clusters are supposed to be played by the palms) and Stutter Stab (stabbed chords,
etc.).
There were plenty of social things to do at the VCCA, including a pizza party on New Year's Eve. For this,
we had to use the kitchen in the barn complex, and I had to buy pizza pans, knives, a rolling pin, a cup
measure, and all the ingredients. It took quite a while to put it all together (I made a quadruple recipe, and
there was enough left over to serve as lunch the next day). The serving of the pizza was followed by a
dance party that really fizzled once some inferior music was chosen (you would think that one person
dancing instead of eight would be a sign to put on different music). Friday night was poker night (nickel
ante, maximum bet a quarter), and usually I didn't do poker there (because I lost so much the first time), but
I joined in. The first Friday night I won 15 cents, and the second one I won two big pots, putting me ahead
by $4.30 for the evening. Indeed, in one hand on the "midnight baseball" variation, I ended up with a hand
with SIX aces. Not that easy to beat.
There were a few drives to Sweet Briar College, just across BUSINESS 29, to take hikes and see horses,
and two drives into Lynchburg to buy stuff (including pizza ingredients), but otherwise we mostly stayed
put. The VCCA is right next to railroad tracks, and the freight business has picked up considerably since the
last time I was there. Many, MANY trains passed at all hours, and Beff decided to take a movie of one. So
she waited on the train bridge for an hour and nothing happened. One of the other couples, Lynda and Hal
(writers), said that on their 1:00 walks there was always a train -- so we both waited on the train bridge
after lunch and both got movies (me with the digital camera, Beff with the camcorder).
And besides the composers I already knew, there were several familiar faces that I was glad to see again -Hal and Lynda, for instance, Anthony and (from an earlier MacDowell sojourn) Eunice. The core staff is
exactly as it was back in 1990: Robert, Dorothy, and Cora. One of the stars of the "Colony" video (Amy) is
still the resident artist, though with longer hair. And the office staff, meanwhile, was busy forgetting to
update the driving directions.
So yesterday we drove back. We set the travel alarm at 5 to shove off at 6, but it failed to go off: I woke us
up at 5:09, and we were on the road at 5:41. The weather had been very warm -- 65 on Thursday (on our
walk I was in a t-shirt) -- and the low temp was forecast as 45. So all our delicate stuff went into the car for
overnight (contact lenses and computers being delicate stuff). But when we got to the car there was a thin
sheet of ice on the windshields and I --- gasp! --- had to use the scraper. We took the inland route in order to
avoid all the Maryland and NJ Turnpike traffic (and especially to avoid the Washington beltway at rush
hour), and that meant the first hour was spent snaking up and over the Blue Ridge mountains. And it was
cool, not to mention twisty. The rest was a drive very full of large trucks -- especially in Pennsylvania -and what had been a beautiful sunny day turned, in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, into a pea soupy fogfest.
Hearing on 1010 WINS that the approach to the Tappan Zee bridge was very slow AND there was
construction on the Merritt Parkway, we changed routes midstream, and went up 87 to 84 rather than across

the Tappan Zee. On the way there, we lunched at the Sloatsburg (I think) rest area, and then gunned it all
the way back to Maynard. We got onto Route 117 at about 4:15 and decided to hop right over to the post
office to pick up our mail, then check with Maynard Door and Window as to what they did while we were
gone (waterproofed the porch roof and probably plowed the driveway once), and THEN we pulled in,
unpacked, etc. -- that was four trips each. After which we shopped at Shaws, I made dinner, and we washed
the sheets. And Beff vacuumed.
The cats emerged immediately, and were REALLY glad to see us. Our parade of catsitters apparently didn't
read the part of our (admittedly very long) directions noting that they only liked the Friskies chicken and
salmon entrees, and fed them canned 9 Lives, which the cats shunned. We rectified the situation, and gave
them lots of treats, and they were happy. They have, meanwhile, acted very needy, following us from room
to room, and especially, after it is dark, following us into the kitchen in expectation of treats. Today, in the
absence of the really heavy rain that was forecast (on the weather radar, the heavy rain was in bands that
missed us to the west and the east), I drove for errands: a haircut, dollhouse wine at Colonia Wine and
Spirits, food at Trader Joes, mailing bags at Staples, and more food (as well as two very nice rice bowls) at
the Joyce Chen oriental market. I made some lovely tom yum for lunch, and dinner will be chicken
sammiches. And Boston lettuce, which I got at Trader Joe's.
So now the future? Don Berman's etudes, and then finally several big pieces to follow. Tuesday I have a
doctor's appointment (prep for surgery), and will pop into Brandeis to see if any of the five incompletes are
complete. I am in Chicago Wednesday to Saturday (shout out to my homeys). Meanwhile, Beff will let
Dunn Oil in on Friday for the yearly furnace maintenance thing for which we have a contract. After that,
other things happen, and I will try to keep the gentle reader apprised, if not actually appraised (because you
know you have value).
This being the first post of the new year (2006, for those who have been playing along at home), I have
included my yearly Year In Photos, with one photo per month from my iPhoto library. In January, Kate
Desjardins did a big piece at the deCordova (it is the pink stuff in back of her), and I was there to capture
her fun with rabbit; in February, I captured Sunny looking at Amy D's cat Ranjith on the old iMac; in
March, I captured the lovely light of sunrise on Summer Hill after a particularly sloppy and sticky
snowstorm; in April, the first day warm enough for hammocking was duly recorded as seen below; in May,
I met David Smooke and Amy D at the Orlando Airport as we were about to begin the Atlantic Center
experience: in June, after a rehearsal the Chelsea Art Museum for the St. Luke's gig, I captured Ingram
Marshall's sneakers on the stairs above me; in July there was a lovely sunset over Lake Champlain near
Beff's father's camp; in August I bought a Minnie Mouse pez dispenser specifically to take this nefarious
extreme closeup;in September I photographed the big shiny apple at a produce place with the town hall of
Bolton painted on it; in October, Carolyn (ka-ching!) photographed how I dressed to teach on Halloween;
in November, a public statue in Burlington, Vermont, was captured; and in December during the amazing
14-inch snowstorm in which the last half fell in maybe an hour, I opened the front door and snapped away.
At the bottom is a scan of the letter I got appointing me to the Naumburg chair -- for those of you who were
asking (which is none of you).

JANUARY 22. My brother's 58th birthday. Breakfast this morning was fake eggs with 2% milk cheese,
orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was Trader Joe's shrimp tempura and salad. Dinner was Scottish fish and
chips, and steamers, at the Quarterdeck Restaurant in Maynard. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS
LAST EIGHT DAYS 7.7 and 59.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS For
Wittgenstein, by moi, as Sooooooozie and Don Berman's first edit just arrived. LARGE EXPENSES this
last eight days are office supplies at Staples, $39. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in the
summer after my freshman year, I worked as a security guard, on the graveyard shift, for MSI, where I was
assigned to the time desk at Jordan Marsh. We would do 3 tours ticking off various security stations by
turning a key, which was supposed to prove we had been there. I would occasionally steal long distance
phone calls by making them from the business office. At the time, a newer Jordan Marsh was connected,
Siamese twin like, to the old Jordan Marsh, and in that building we delighted in stealing light bulbs and
dropping them down the eight-floor staircase (they usually broke). One night I was so broke that my dinner
was free mustard and relish packets from the break room. Turnover was such that I was frequently called

into do extra shifts, or double shifts, so I learned not to answer my phone. The local term for someone not
showing up for work was "banged out". One night I was called in for the graveyard shift very late, I went to
the Auditorium subway stop, and was shooed out in the most vigorous manner possible by an MBTA
employee. Pay was $2.45 an hour, and just before the minimum wage went up to $2.60, the company
advertised "15-cent an hour raise guaranteed within the first two weeks." COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY is United Airlines. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: what is the literal
translation of "strange" flavor chicken? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: dartle. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF this last eight days is wind. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Buffalo
wings, weirdly stuffed or marinated olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK my house from the Google
Earth software. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This
page, Lexicon. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are nothing, unless
covering the top of the Klavinova with cat hair counts for something. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE
OF MUSIC this week is 5 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: MBTA buses stop in Bolton, Stow, Maynard, Acton, and West Concord on their way into
Boston. Actually, just Maynard would satisfy. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A
SPAM: Ameen Jamal. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Chairty. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,312.
FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: But he's been pretty much yellow, and I've been kinda blue. WHAT I
PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: I didn't buy gas this week, but would have paid $2.29 in Maynard if
I did. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE the changes for the break in Night in Tunisia, the dreg de la creme, an elementary school
pamphlet on the history of Thanksgiving, a brick house.
SANDSTORM!
The incredible mildness of the winter continues, as many shake their heads in disbelief to a point where I
get dizzy just watching. Last year in this calendar month, Boston had its snowiest (calendar) month ever,
and Letters to the Editor writers universally credited global warming for the phenomenon. This January
seems to be running at least 10 degrees above normal, and the same letter writers will be writing the same
things. And this is what music is like: the same thing means different things, and different things mean the
same thing. Excuse me while I pat myself on the back.
SANDSTORM!
There is no snow to be found anywhere in Maynard except at the fringes of commercial parking lots;
furthermore, the ground is not soggy. If there's a point to that observation, it eludes me, too. So naturally,
we are all losing our winter driving skills. But gaining a friend. This freaky warmth extends at least to
Chicago, where I experienced it first hand this week -- that and rain, sleet, freezing rain and snow. The
richness of the experience amazes.
SANDSTORM!
But early in the week (Tuesday) I had to organize all the end-of-semester paperwork and grading from the
fall into packets to return to students in the second semester of first year theory, and take it into work to
Seung Ah (ka-ching!), who was to return it. My new endowed chair stationery had arrived, and I got to
bring it with me. At Brandeis I saw Caro(ka-ching!)lyn, Mark, Marty, Eric Chafe, and many other
colleagues, where I jawed about until I had to leave for my doctor's appointment -- which was, I thought, a
pro forma thing to prepare me for the operation, and it mostly was -- except my blood work and EKG were
officially outdated. So I got both done, and it was comical as the (male) nurse kept reattaching the
electrodes to various parts of me, asking me to scoot up, scoot down, raise my legs, lower my legs, and then
finally bring in a dred-locked nurse, who first asked me, "Are you alive?" She then looked at the monitor,
said, "the readings are fine," and exited. You always wonder what's wrong with you when they have to
readjust your electrodes to get the desirable result. And those are words by which to live.
Nonetheless. I packed for Chicago, got a ride to the airport, and it was incredibly warm and incredibly

windy on Wednesday -- Beff said when she returned that the barbecue on the back porch had been blown a
few feet such that it blocked the door. And I was worried that I wouldn't get out before they closed the
airport -- "gusts to 60" sometimes does that. As it was, we got out on time, though many flights coming in
from places to the near west were cancelled -- as that was where the storm was. We had the bumpiest
takeoff I've ever experienced, which is not good for those of us who don't like to fly. Incredibly, a half hour
after that, I was nodding off just fine. And we landed on time.
SANDSTORM!
I hired a professional redacter to do some work on this page, because the dacter I originally hired didn't
finish the job -- though it was nice that at his office, his secretary said, "the dacter will see you now". Same
thing happened, by the way, with the guy who fries the beans at the Mexican restaurant. But anyway, xxxx
x xxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx. Xxxxx x xxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxx, Xxxxx xxxxxx, Xxxx, xxx
Xxxxxxx. On Thursday, it got to 57 degrees, and X xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx XXXX xxxxxx: xxxx xxxxxx,
Xxxxx, Xxxxxx, xxx Xxxxx Xxxxxx (Xxxx xx xxx Xxxxxx). X xxx x xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
Xxxxxx Xxxxxx, Amy D, her SO Marc (see "Deceptively Simple" on the web), and David Smooke (who
thinks I should misspell his name Szmuk (in the authentic original spelling) to become a double-fiver; but it
occurs to me that a David named Szmuk would be a Davide and not a David. Hmm). Xxxxxx xxxx x xxx
xxxxxx xxxxx.
SANDSTORM!
Xxxxxx x xxxxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx. Xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx x xx xxxxx
xxxxx xxxxx! Xx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xx x xxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx. It was good to see Amy xxx
xxxxxx xx xxxxxxx. Xxxxxxxx, Joe Francavilla came and got me -- Stacy was getting back from
MacDowell on the same day. On top of that all, rain had changed to sleet, and the roads were a little
treacherous -- which didn't faze (phase?) Joe and his Corolla. We picked up Stacy on the way back, I saw
their new apartment, and we went out to an Irish pub xx Xxxxxxxxx. When we got back, Stacy showed
some of her closeup photos, especially of one leaf, from MacDowell (I seem to have been the one who
turned her on to the closeup shots), and we were all tired and went to bed. The next morning Joe drove me
to the airport, and that was preceded by an amazing procedure of getting the rain, sleet, freezing rain, and
snow off the car (I rule). My plane got off on time, and the pilot helpfully told us that there were big winds
in Boston and the landing would be bumpy. Sigh. We took the approach from the due north, going right
over the coastline, and every roller coaster-like movement produced squeals of delight from a toddler
behind me that has yet to learn to hate to fly.
Upon my return, I was amazed to see that it was 60 degrees (normal high: 35), quite windy, and all traces of
snow were, again, gone. Beff and I didn't feel like cooking (as in, I didn't feel like cooking), so we walked
in the high winds (take 2) to the Quarterdeck. In front of the NAPA Auto Parts store we encountered a gust
that practically lifted me off my feet, and pelted us with the winter's sand from the sanding trucks.
SANDSTORM! Just like that Hercules movie that was on MST 3K, except we got to have seafood at the
end of it. Beff got bluefish and I got Scottish fish and chips. So there. This morning after breakfast, we took
out usual long walk to the Assabet trail, passing by the Ben Smith Dam, and back. As I type this, Beff is on
her way back to Maine for her teaching week, I have just resolved two of the fall's incompletes (except for
finding the form for that), and am now plotting and planning for the future of me'all's writing.
This week there is a meeting with the anaesthesiologist for my operation (I don't think I'll get a "the dacter
will see you now" -- though it might come out that way if I were still in Chicago), and a day or two spent in
Bangor, as Beff's faculty group is doing an all-Mozart concert. Weather permitting, of course. On Tuesday
and for the following four academic Tuesdays I have to go into Brandeis despite my on leave status.
As I was typing this, weather bug chimed in with a "winter storm watch", possibility of 4-7 inches of snow
tonight and tomorrow. Poop.

JANUARY 29. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee, in Bangor. Dinner was a pizza at Pat's
pizza with pepperoni, spinach, tomatoes, and "zesty olives". Lunch was the blackened chicken wrap at Sea
Dog in Bangor. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 15.4 and 51.8. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS some of the wedding music from The Marriage of Figaro.
LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are office supplies at Staples, $34, but only $4 after coupon, and
supplies at BJ's, $69. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: four of us -- Beff, Ross, Don Swin
and I decided to form the Griffin Music Ensemble over a meal at the IHOP in Brookline -- there should be a
placque or something commemmorating this. "The IHOP Ensemble" was the working name for the group
until we realized a Griffin would be a cool logo. A local college with a Griffin statue somewheres would
gladly have charged us hundreds of dollars for the privilege of posing with it. Soon we added John
Watrous, Jessica Locke, and Allen Anderson, two-thirds of whom now fall squarely into the "whatever
happened to?" file. Ross's habit of arriving late (which I knew well from Tanglewood) caused us to tell him
meeting times that were half an hour earlier than we actually expected to meet. So yep, those 8 pm
meetings started on time, with Ross's arrival usually around 7:55. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: how come there is strange
flavor chicken but no strange flavor pop tart? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: curp. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF this last eight days is violent shifts in weather -- weary and fascinated both.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Mezzetta antipastos. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Bangor
has less snow than Maynard. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5.6. REVISIONS TO
THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none,
though some suspicious rooting around the pantry cupboards is suspected. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 6. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE
OF MUSIC this week is 7 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: I get a royalty every time someone clears his or her throat. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE
SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Moira. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Hey there. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 8,312. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Of the things that I can handle None of 'em's
worth a candle. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.35 in Acton, coupled with a $7 car
wash, $2.41 in Orono, and $2.31 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a full-scale replica of the Empire State Building, the
spit that collects when you play a brass instrument, three of those old-style pink foam curlers, a letter
opener made of brass but coated with silver.
I start typing on Friday, with an intent to post on Sunday. More as it develops. It has not been an eventful
week, nor has it been an eventless one. So I'm adding to the ennui factor by doing my biyearly thing where
I pretend to take a stand on various controversial issues. People who like to stay awake are invited to skip
to the next paragraph. Alito: qualified. Gay marriage: for. Roe v. Wade: for. George W. Bush: worst
president in my lifetime, or anyone's. Republican Massachusetts governors: all of them mediocrities. The
Democratic party: in the words of Mark Twain, not an organized political party. NRA wiretapping without
warrant: impeachable. Plamegate: not enough information. Affirmative action: for. Abramoff: lousy skunk
gave $50 to his alma mater in his lifetime. Minimalism and post-minimalism: growing on me. Serialist
hegemony: historical revisionism. Greatest pop song ever written: I Want You Back. Runners up: Peg,
Borderline, I Want You to Know, God is a DJ. Worst pop song ever written: Macarena. Runners up:
Lollipop, Mambo No. 5, Popcorn, Rock Me Amadeus, I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me.
Winner of 2000 election: Gore.
Last week's update ended with a note that Weather Bug was chirping in with a winter storm watch, and
shonuff, Monday's feature was a storm of snow -- known more colloquially and locally as a "snowstorm".
Or schneesturm (which sounds like a sneeze). The total for that storm was about eight inches of heavy, wet
stuff, and so that turned this winter into a two-snowblower winter (last winter was a five-snowblower
winter, so we have some time yet). This was the first storm (that we were here) wherein there was enough
snow, and enough stickin' together, that the sliding off the roof thing was dramatic, each and every time it
happened. For those who haven't witnessed that (which is all of you), it's a five-second rumble followed by
two seconds of whoomph, capped off by a big whump. It is comical to see the cats' reaction to each one:
sitting at attention, looking straight ahead, wide-eyed, while that ears go forward, then back. Then there is
the look of panic, and, given the attention span, almost immediate return to the sleeping position.

So I did use the snowblower to clear the driveway and walks, which has given me some nice residual pain
in my left arm all week. That means I must brace it against me or something, because that arm also has the
lever for forward motion. In any case, the coming Tuesday is showing signs of another possible heavy
snow. Oh, lawdy, I hate it when that happens. In any case -- there was also time spent on Wednesday on the
flat roof over the sun porch shoveling the snow off. I have gotten into that habit, once all the snow that will
falls off the roof into its designated areas.
A blast from the past plays as I type this -- Gerry Itzkoff, who premiered HYPERBLUE way back when
(1993), who was the soloist in the only public performance ever of my complete violin concerto, who
played in the Griffin ensemble, and who migrated to the Cincinnati Orchestra, sent -- out of the blue, as we
haven't been in contact for more than ten years -- a new CD of his of "20th Century Romantic Sonatas".
Busoni plays as I type, and it sounds excellent. Another reminder of Boston's loss, and Cincinnati's gain.
And speaking of blasts from the past, Collage is doing my Dances in the Dark on its Monday evening
concert, at Longy. An old problem with that surfaced: when it was done at Mannes a few years ago, I got an
e-mail from the director (a double-fiver) saying that the cello part for the fourth movement was missing.
Probably my bad. I got that e-mail again this time, so I made a point to reprint a cello part, including the
last movement (page numbered 42 instead of 8), and -- get this -- got my first official use of the new paper
cutter that cuts up to 15 inches! As I had to cut an 11x17 printout down to 11x14. I rocked, I ruled, and I
grinned. Just a little. And then I disappeared, except for the grin. Then the literary police pooh poohed my
plagiaristic side.
As the gentle regular reader knows, I go under the knife, and even get a little mesh added to me, on
Thursday. I do not yet know at what time I am scheduled, but I did have to report to the Faulkner Hospital
in Jamaica Plain last Thursday for an anaesthesia consult. So on Wednesday I dress-rehearsed the drive.
Why? Because my appointment was for first thing in the morning and I didn't want to be looking at a
poorly-drawn map during rush hour and losing my way. After my dress rehearsal I stopped at BJs
specifically for big jars of hamburger dill picklage and fat free cheese slices, to which I added Roma
tomatoes, Claritin (for Beff), a 50-lb. bag of cat litter (Beff's least favorite size), and whatever else I felt
like. I also got bread and butter pickles for one of the ka-ching twins, which will be delivered when they are
delivered.
So I did my Thursday morning anaesthesia consult, and because I hate being late (and I hate even more
people who are late when I am on time) -- I would rather be an hour early than five minutes late -- I left at a
time such as I was there, yep, more than an hour early. I walked a mile down Centre Street for the exercise
and -- guess what? -- I walked back! What a boring neighborhood! Then I followed directions to get to
where I had to get, most of which turned out to wrong. The first room I was sent sent me to another room,
for signing in and/or registering -- where you fill out a form and stick it in a slot, someone comes out and
grabs the next slotted form, and does the checking in. It occurred to me that this was one of the least
efficient ways ever devised for this sort of thing, but hey, at least I got to watch a heartwarming story on
Good Morning America while at least three interview people who obviously hate their jobs had their way
with us. After my interview, I got sent to the first room where I was sent, which was, this time, the right
room (as well as the third room). And my interview was over before it was scheduled to begin (I like to
have my way with space and time). Dadburn it, all of the interview could have just as efficiently been done
over the phone, but then my almost proud moment happened: the blood pressure reading. I have, for five
years, been on hypertension medicine (two of them, actually), and it's usually pretty high when the readings
are taken. Getting it "down" to 125/100 has been considered a success. But here the pressure taken was,
inexplicably, 104/70, by far the lowest reading I ever got. Pretty obviously, I am not the Chair of my
department.
And speaking of my department, my Tuesday was spent at the department in the first of our five interviews
of the finalists for the untenured composer job. You won't get names or any particulars here, except where
we went for dinner, perhaps, and other really dull tidbits. I was called in at the last minute to beef up the
numbers for lunch with the candidate, and there ended up being 13 for a reservation for 9. So I'm not going
to respond to any more plaintive e-mails of that sort. While at Brandeis, I participated in the

bureaucracyfest that is changing a grade -- and I had two incompletes to resolve. That involved filling out a
form that included the student's ID number (I had to search high and wide online for those), and justifying
the grade change ("uh, like, the rest of the work was submitted and graded"). I did that by using my laptop,
connected to the newly wireless Slosberg building, and that was empowering. Since I have no office,
though, I had to carry the laptop with me everywhere. I hate it when that happens. And anyway, we went to
the Tuscan Grill for dinner, which was quite empowering, or at least enfattening. The special was Bambi's
mom, but I didn't get that. Eric Chasalow selected the wine. Eric Hill, the Theater Chair, came to the
colloquium and dinner, so it was good to see him fully functioning within this search -- I told him I would
give him a printout of all the music I composed for the Bacchae, and I printed one out, and I needed a 3/4
inch binding coil to hold it. Oh, lawdy. I love being the heavy, and all that connotes.
As I type this, I have just returned from spending the first portion of the weekend in Bangor. Well, that, and
the eight hours of driving associated with getting there and back. I left Maynard before 7 on Saturday,
brought some various things to Beff, and because yet more unseasonable warmth made it all the way up
there, we took a walk around downtown before settling in at the Sea Dog restaurant for some hardy fare
(which was hardly fair). Or is that hearty fare? After some hangin' out, there was another sizable walk into
parts of the city I hadn't seen before, then a drive to the University, where Beff's faculty group was giving a
Mozart's birthday concert (how predictable). The concert itself was well-attended and well-played, and it
was interesting to hear some of Mozart's "epistle sonatas" for the first time, for organ, violin and flute.
There was also a cello and piano fragment rescued from the Mozarteum and "filled in" by someone, and it
was pretty much crap -- except for an interesting resolution of a Neapolitan. But the concert ended with the
Kagelstatt Trio, which was sublime, worth wading through all the other stuff -- which, by the way, included
one of those concert arias, this one with an Erwartung-like leap in it near the end. (Soozie said that leap is
not that hard -- it's the tessitura of most of the rest of the song that is hard)
And this morning, after lounging about in my new maroon-colored bathrobe that Beff got for me mailorder, I drove back, talked a bit to Soozie on the cell phone, and settled back. Since Beff is catless this
weekend, she has requested cat photos for this edition, which is fine with me -- I hadn't taken any photos all
week, and boy are my arms tired (actually, they are -- still -- thanks to the shovelfest). So what we have is
Great Road, our house, at 1:30 today; followed by five catpix that should be self-explanatory, as in, they
explain themselves.
Just one more thing: I got a CD and DVD of Danielle Ingram's recital from last November -- in which she
premiered the 63rd etude -- and it was very good. Also in arrivo, the first edit from Soozie and Don
Berman's recording of For Wittgenstein for that gonzo American Academy in Rome recording thing. Again,
kuhl.
Since last week I did a year in review rather than anything about VCCA where I had spent 3 weeks, the
VCCA pictures are now here for your perusal. Also see "VCCA train" QuickTime movie in yellow text,
above, which goes very close to the VCCA grounds. But first, here's my new letterhead, which is the first
time my e-mail address has appeared anywhere on this site (I hate e-mail phishers).

FEBRUARY 6. Breakfast this morning was orange juice. Lunch was a salad with some Japanese soy
dressing. Dinner last night was nonexistent. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 26.2 and
55.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Black Velvet, by Alannah Myles. LARGE
EXPENSES this last eight days are various at Amazon, $300. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: I took two organ lessons when I was in high school. We did have a little Hammond-type
organ at home, but I practiced on the organ in the Congregational Church when I could find time. I had to
buy special organ shoes (I used them for some while after -- they made me taller), and for the first time in
quite a while, I had to practice. I was assigned a little F major prelude and fugue of Bach, and did make it
to the point where I could kind of play the entrance of the theme in the pedals (which had plenty of
neighbor note sixteenths). When I got frustrated, I pulled out all the stops and played Joy to the World with
feet planted on the low D. It was about that that the pastor would compliment me as I left the church for
home. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are

Faulkner Hospital, but only a little itty-bit. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY are probably Faulkner Hospital. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is it coincidental that
"scar" and "scare" begin with the same four letters? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: ploost. THINGS I
HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the prostrate position. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: salad.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK why stool softener may be essential. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN
1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Reviews 3. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 3. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE
OF MUSIC this week is 13 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: the words "Uptown" and "Downtown" to describe music simply vanish (*poof*) into the ether.
THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: software10@virfilio.it. SUBJECT OF
THAT SPAM: Software Award! PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,332. FEATURED FIONA
APPLE LYRIC: Days like this I don't know what to do with myself all day and all night.. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.33 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the seven seas,
draconian measures, a bag of peat moss, seventeen different excuses for being late.
Last week, I put two thirds of the"other" of Griffin in the "whatever happened to" file. By coincidence or
fate, half of that two-thirds got in touch to catch up. Jessica, who was the group's singer and so much more,
now is a filmcomposer (one word), still living in Watertown, winning awards, and has recently spent time
with one of the hardest-hit fire companies from 9/11 and has written a memorial for them. But that
beautiful voice is apparently going to waste. As to the other third, I actually know something about him
second hand, but he is still a mystery.
Monday was a day of some driving. I drove to Alewife in the morning to catch a noon dress rehearsal of
Collage doing my Dances in the Dark -- the lot was full, so I had to go to this other area at the end, and I
was directed into place by some shifty types. The rehearsal was good, I was able to adjust some tempi and
say hi to Bob Annis and Chris Oldfather, and make it back while it was still just a little spritzy. Then I was
on my way to Alewife again in the dark at a quarter after six, and it was very hard to see with the spritzing,
and the predictions of sleet and freezing rain screaming at me from the radio -- so I took the commuter rail
instead, made it in plenty of time to see the concert, and it was a good one. Jim Ricci and Ken and Hillary
and John McDonald were there, among others, and my piece came off rather well. There was also a
Schuller piece that was about 75 percent solo cadenza that the critic led with. I only got to stay a few
minutes at the reception, since I had to make it to a train going back, so I didn't get to see everyone I could
have. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
On Tuesday, the second candidate for the Brandeis job went through the ringer on a day which, as of three
days earlier, was going to feature up to a foot of snow, according to them what make. The classic front
pinwheels around a stationary low over the Great Lakes and a new storm forms in the ocean thing. Classic!
Classic! What happened instead was a bit of freezing rain Monday night, a day of rain on Tuesday, and an
inch of snow at the tail end. This made it icky outside, however, so the interview featured mostly indoor
stuff. Early in the morning, I went out in my nice new maroon bathrobe to retrieve the paper, didn't realize
the rain was freezing rain, slipped on the first step, and slipped on all the others on my way to the final one.
Just some bumps and a small scab on my right hand, but I was more careful coming back in. Concrete steps
are fairly solid. I made it in in time for some of the lunch with candidate, and also took said candidate to
meet the Dean, where I waited while resolving another incomplete (they just kept comin' this term, I
swear). Dinner was at the Ariana Restaurant in Newton -- described by Eric Chasalow as really close and
really easy to find, and it was neither. Eric Hill was going to meet us there, but couldn't find it (I will
suggest that the remaining dinners happen on Moody Street, which at least we all know). The food was
awfully good, however. I had orecchiette pasta with chicken sausage, and it was surprisingly the first time I
had seen the word "orecchiette" -- little ears. More like little bowls, mind you.
And Thursday was the big day. Beff had arrived from Maine at 12:45 am ready for it, and we got up about a
quarter after six. My arrival time was to be 8:45, and of course I hate arrival times square in the middle of
rush hour and in the direction of rush hour. We actually got there maybe a half hour early, so we walked on
Center Street in toward the city, taking every possible opportunity to disparage the neighborhood -- though

the Arboretum was certainly a nice thing to have there. But no convenience stores or coffee shops or
anything where you can trade currency for goods and services. We did pass the Italian Home for children,
though -- none of whom can go out for a walk and get a cup of coffee, can they?
So the procedures were much as expected. I filled out paperwork, changed into hospital garb, and was
assigned a bed in a holding pen, where Beff joined me. We tried to keep some conversation going so as to
drown out the conversations about bad health from others in the holding pen -- and then came the parade.
Everyone involved, or peripherally involved, in the operation came, introduced themselves, asked me the
spelling of my name, my birth date, and what procedure I was having, picked up my data book, and signed
something. Every other one had some papers for me to sign, and my favorite was from the
anaesthesiologist: "oh, it's just the standard stuff -- you acknowledge that anaesthesia can cause heart and
liver problems, cracked teeth, nausea, death, blah blah blah, you know, the works. Sign here." One doctor
or resident with a thick foreign British accent did the spiel, and I looked at Beff and said, "Shazam? His
name is .. Shazam?" Everyone, of course, wanted to comment on me being a music teacher, and one
woman ventured some Ethel Merman (others noted that she would).
My IV was to be inserted by a third-year medical student, and apparently he was a virgin at this. The rubber
tube thing happened to enlarge the vein, there was a bunch of tapping, and while the nurse watched, I felt
prick, prick, prick ("no, a little more of an angle"), prick, OW!, prick, prick, "There!". Then the IV started
and the nurse called it "breakfast". I said "mmm, sausage" and she added, "yes, and antibiotics". You could
see both me and Beff straining for a joke here, but it just didn't happen. I felt the cold sensation as the IV
started, and carried it with me to the bathroom once. How very civil.
So in all that context, I was wheeled, eyeless (had to take out the contact lenses) into the operating room,
Ethel Merman was singing away, and an anaesthesiologist said to take four deep breaths. Naturally, I
remember taking three. Later, I awoke in squalor, or a dark corner of the waiting area, received a few visits
from medical types, was moved to a more comfy area, and changed back into civilian clothes. A nurse
rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, it was Ferzoco. He likes his patients to urinate before they leave" and I
thought -- it had been 18 hours -- doctor's orders -- since I'd eaten or drunk anything and I have to pee now?
Well, I tried, and there was "not enough to measure". But I got to go anyway. The trip home was routine
and Beff's dirving exemplary, and I was settled with an ice bag into our bed. I was extremely parched, so
Beff delivered some lemonade and I drank the whole glass, then another half glass of it.
What I didn't know -- because the last time I had this operation I didn't have the knock-out anaesthesia -was that, um, eliminating liquid refreshment would be slow and gradual, even though I felt at all times like
I really had to. So that first afternoon of relaxing and getting rest from the operation -- at least half the time
spent in the smallest room of my house. Finally things normalized a bit, I set myself up on the rocking
reclining chair in the living room with a blanket and the cats loved that area. We watched some TV, but I
remember not what. Finally I did a bunch of e-mail, since sitting was a better deal than lying down with an
ice pack. And Thursday night featured a little bit of sleep.
Friday was better, more lying down, and eating began anew. At night we watched Galaxy Quest, a silly
movie done right, and left the lights on for Geoffy, who was in town for more BMV rehearsals. On
Saturday, the ka-ching twins came by with some sophisticated lunch like objects (as in: food), so we talked
and ate and talked and ate, and Mike had some good jokes, and Carolyn went to a belt sander racing
tournament. Geoff went to another rehearsal, and when he got back we did Domino's and watched the
movie "Funny Bones", which started our whole Raymond Scott craze in the first place. Yesterday was a day
of email and naps, then watching the first half of the Super Bowl, then going to bed.
Meanwhile, I had understood that I was to take 1 stool softener pill per day because of the binding
properties of the painkillers. I looked at the label again this morning and noted that I was supposed to take 4
per day. I won't describe why it was really, really good to find that out. Meanwhile, today there was some
orange juice, a nap, some e-mail, a nap, Maynard Door and Window replacing the computer room window,
at which time I started the Celesta etude, and then a 3-hour nap. Boy, this convalescing thing is tiring. And
tomorrow I have to go in for another job candidate interview, and since I can't drive until Friday, I have to
get a cab. Oh joy. This morning Beff called and said she needed the tape part to "This is Why She Had to

Quit Her Band," which was in the bedroom here, so I used iTunes to make an mp3 and I e-mailed it to her.
When I inserted the CD, iTunes thought I had inserted a CD called "Holy Wars" -- so I went with it.
Meanwhile, I got a CD from Curt of Speculum's December performance of Inside Story. It rocks, and the
story is not pretty. And with all the napping and stuff, I doubt I will make the 6-day limit on the etude -- but
hey, for the first time, this one has phasing. More like microcanons, but phasing is so retro it sounds cool to
say it that way. And now I'm ready for another nap.
And the weather continued its warm ways. There were TWO rainstorms during the Early Convalescence,
and the second one caused some liquid to get into the basement. The snow is now mostly gone. But it is
now colder and we are promised at least two weeks of more winter like temperatures. Don't you hate it
when that happens?
There is a new movie taken this morning: I started a movie and let the camera dangle because Cammy was
in Nuzzle Mode. See it in yellow text up on the left. Other pictures include two of Sunny in the new
convalescing area, the second one on me; then Saturday's festivities people, and the spread we demolished;
then the cats looking outside on Friday, Sunny on me, and the backyard with the snow gone as of this
morning.

FEBRUARY 14. Breakfast this morning was orange juice. Lunch was hot dogs. Dinner was Chunky
Chicken Soup and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 10.4 and 37.2. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Sara, by me. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days
are none. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played the Arthur Pryor Variations on Blue
Bells of Scotland with my high school band. It occurs to me that would have been the same concert as my
first premiere ever, me conducting my own piece and the third clarinetists were all drunk. In any case, some
dude instigated a standing ovation after the Blue Bells, and that may be the only one I've ever gotten. My
only distinction in that performance was that I added a few notes in the cadenza, popping out a high E -which I now know was a leading tone that I failed to resolve in register. Bad Davy. COMPANIES WHO
HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Trader Joe's, for having a nifty hefeweizen that's cheap. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words end with "kin"? Here's your starter set: pumpkin,
bodkin. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: lurat. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is binary
descriptions of the field of music, such as Uptown/Downtown. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: salad. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK little by little, the scar from the operation. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances
page, Bio. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but plenty of
cupboard doors left open and books knocked off of nightstands. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE
OF MUSIC this week is 19 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: balding is sexy. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: dblagntm.
SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Do you want women to have you in their sexual fantasies? PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,393. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: No apologies. I guess they buy you time
till you next step out of line. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.25 across from City Hall.
OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE the continental drift, beer that has gone flat, waltz tempo, a pile of used computer parts.
This week, dull as it was, has a few things to report. As usual, I had to go in to BrandX on Tuesday for an
interview, and since I was prohibited from driving by the doctor, I took a cab. Maynard-Acton Taxi seems
to be sufficiently marginal that they don't say "Maynard Acton Taxi" when they answer the phone, and I got
the impression that the driver popped on over from another day job of some sort. And he wanted to talk
about restaurants. The post-festivities dinner was at Tom Can Cook in downtown Waltham, and since I was
still bandaged and all, I wasn't in the mood to eat much. I ordered vegetable tempura, and a giant plate of
artery-clogging breading material came to me, allegedly with a few vegetables inside. Note to self: avoid
tempura at Tom Can Cook. Josh gave me a ride home afterwards, as I am practically on his way home.

After all of that, Wednesday was pretty much a rest and recuperation day spent in the reclining chair under
a blanket. How spaced out was I? I watched all of a Leonard Nimoy-narrated program on the location of
the Ark of the Covenant without changing channels. Cold weather has come back, so there wasn't much in
the way of outdoor activities, though I did go out once, while the ground was still bare, to move branches
that had dropped in the January windstorms into the discard piles. And there were quite a few. But more
vigorous activity -- including driving -- didn't happen until after Beff got in Thursday night. Actually, she
got in early enough that I could cook, and it was salmon burgers, baby, done on the grill outside.
Friday was my post-op appointment with my surgeon, and all was well. Beff had gotten me some deluxe
big bandages to use, which the surgeon marveled at (he actually called them "deluxe"), and he gave
permission to stop using them (especially as they were beginning to itch). Little bits of tape left there are
going to fall off of their own accord (some have), and otherwise I was given the green light for everything
except heavy lifting. So I drove us to Trader Joe's in Framingham, where we got a lot of nice things. TJ's
now has a range of boutique beer flavors, and their hefeweizen is quite good, and so cheap. I also got some
chips that are neither baked nor fried, and it turns out they're not tasty, either. For dinner on Friday we
thought we'd try a new restaurant that's just opened in Acton -- Not Your Average Joe's. We were next to a
large table with twelve women and one man (likely an office party), and they got elevated pizza. Moi, I got
the salmon with sundried tomato paste and it was good. That restaurant seems like it will be on our list.
We had spent the afternoon Friday finishing the tallying of our deductions for tax purposes. And that was a
big, big job. Unexplainably, we could not find the March and April bank statements, alas. But I can now tell
you the final cost of rewiring, and of roof work, and of door and window work. But I won't.
By Saturday, dire warnings of a Noreaster were piling up, so Beff decided to go back Mainewards on
Saturday instead of Sunday. So we embarked on my first significant exercise since the operation -- a
morning walk downtown with the expressed purpose of getting toothpaste, out of which we had run. There
was beautiful icy formations by the river, so I packed up my camera and took some closeups (I'm a sucker
for funny icy formations). Not so oddly, after Beff embarked, I pretty much spent the time asleep.
Earlier in the week I had received an e-mail from Adam Marks, a 2000 Brandeis graduate who was in the
first theory class I taught at Brandeis. On Halloween that year, he and Eve Crevoshay came to class dressed
as Adam and Eve (which is their names), and part of the costume was a big pile of leaves. We could have
raked in Room 215 that day. Adam came to Amy's 2002 New York recital and dug the etudes enough to
solicit scores. He eventually premiered Madam I'm Adam (for vanity reasons, apparently), did Fists of Fury
for the Yaddo benefit in New York last May, and recently premiered Absofunkinlutely last fall. I still have
not heard it.
So Adam entered the Orleans International Piano Competition in France, which happened last week.
Among the many prizes offered are a composition award from the Chevillion-Bonaud Foundation for the
piece played in the first round that the judges think is best. Or niftiest, or coolest. Adam entered
Absofunkinlutely for that award, and it won, which enriches me by 4600 Euros (around $5500 last time I
checked). Adam, meanwhile, made it into the second round, but says he screwed up in the second round
and emerged without a prize. It's weird that I emerged with one. So the Orleans people e-mailed me for
account information, which I had to get from Bank of America -- whoo daddy they've got a complicated
series of things to go through to talk to an actual person. I now know BofA's routing number, and
EVERYTHING. And any reader who wants to look at the Orleans info can see their webpage, www.ocipiano.com. I join Ken Hesketh and Unsuk Chin as winners of that award, incidentally.
Sunday was the Day of the Storm, and we were lucky to be in a dry spot of it for about two hours. The
storm was strong enough to have an eye when viewed on satellite images, and it was New York City's
biggest snow producer ever. Here we got about 14 inches, and it was a test of the snow removal people that
Maynard Door and Window use (and that we hired). After the first five inches, a shoveler and a plower
came, did the nasty, and returned at about 10 at night. Alas, they did not completely do the top of the
driveway where we need the space to turn around, so yesterday morning I took out the snowblower and
finished the job. Since the snowblower is self-locomoting, the only exertion on my part was the hands
holding the blowing and locomotion levers down. So now it's a THREE snowblower winter.

Yesterday was also the day the music I wrote for the Brandeis producion of The Bacchae was getting
recorded, and Bob Schultz and the Lyds were there for a 10 to 2 block. J. Hagenbuckle, who took Music 5
with me, was The Man, and he set up two close mikes and got a feed from the hanging mikes for the best
mix. The mix was essential, if you've ever tried to balance timpani and a string quartet, after all. Having
vastly increased the potential repertoire of string quartet and timpani music, I feel no need to do so again.
So the nine cues with timpani got into the can splendidly, and I had to turn pages for one of them. My bad.
The other 26 went nicely, too, though at one point one of the quartet said the music was "terse". Well, it's
the the-ah-tah, isn't it? Things were done by 1:30, so there.
And another day (Sunday) was spent on the etude with optional celesta. It's actually better than it seems,
though the title thing is going to be hard again. I have ruled out celesta puns, so Celesta The Mohicans is
out of the running. It occured to me that the etude is really about figuration in the hands done in canon
separated by a sixteenth note -- very much like what Martler and I used to (and probably still do) like to do
with the figuration from Tubular Bells (the Exorcist music) -- play it as fast as possible and then try to do it
in canon separated by one note. So if anyone is ruling here -- it is I. Martler is the Crown Prince.
And tomorrow I begin a three-day New York sojourn. TJCMS is done on Double Exposure, and I already
know the clarinetist lost at least one rehearsal to the blizzard -- being that he was in Arizona and unable to
get in. While there I will see Jonathan to get our taxes done, will see Danny for beer and Harold for lunch,
will be staying with Jay and Marilyn, and will do whatever else has to get done. At the same time as the
Double Exposure show, Beff is playing a concert at Del's school, so she will be getting back late here, and
the cats will be glad to see her. And NEXT week is Brandeis vacation, which, nonetheless, features for me a
dissertation defense. I plan to come out a-swingin'. Or not.
And I finally got to hear Jim Goldsworthy's recording of "Sara", which I copped from Hayes, who has it
because he is writing the liner notes. It is a pretty piece, and Jim takes it faster than the tempos I indicated
-- which is probably the right thing to do. I remember that Amy and Rick Moody were in on the
composition of it -- Amy chose the first two notes, and Rick the second chord (he suggested B-A-D because
of the way he felt at the moment, and I sharped the D).
This week's pictures begin with Terrace Kitties, followed by a nifty new snow cap for an ornamental bit of
the house after the storm. Then there are three of the ice formation pictures and three pictures from the
Bacchae recording session. Nothing else is new. And not even any ka-chings for the Ka-Ching Twins.

FEBRUARY 21. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and Boca meatless sausages with melted 2%
cheese. Dinner was Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup. Lunch was two hot dogs with inlaid yumminess.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 7.9 and 59.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Abracadabra by the Steve Miller Band (Thanks, Beff). LARGE EXPENSES this
last week include boutique beer to give to the staff at the MacDowell Colony, $45, various painting
paraphernalia $15, dinner and Corsendonks with Jay Eckardt and Danny Felsenfeld, $110, black teaching
jeans and a cat litter garbage pail at K-Mart, $60. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I
was in sixth grade, I got to play in the local (high school) district music festival, in the second trombone
section. Dunno why, but it was nice experience. I was rather small compared to the rest of 'em, but covered
the part just fine. I was able to get a (reel-to-reel) copy of the concert, and for months afterwards I delighted
at playing the second trombone part along to the tape. The sanity of my parents and sister would certainly
have had to be called into question during this period. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Inko's, because how could they not? THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: How many words end with three or more consonants that include neither diphthongs nor
plurals? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flokst. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the
Cheney shooting story and Mary Matalin. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: meatless sausages
with melted cheese. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Local Live website. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.000000001. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Sound
examples page, Compositions page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST

WEEK are none, but Cammy nuzzled a bubble-wrapped piece of porcelain clean off the dining room table,
and it survived. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 4.
DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 31 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT
BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: less is more. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE
SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Perry Burger. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: t rundle news. PHOTOS IN
MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,400. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: He's no good at being
uncomfortable, so he can't stop staying exactly the same. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$2.53 in Connecticut, $2.11 across from City Hall. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE
A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the tension and release model, cold storage, ten
things that have no middles, the darkest part of a Twinkie.
Updates will be quite sporadic following this one, as the colony hop proceeds in earnest beginning next
Monday when I drive to the MacDowell Colony and mostly stay there for six weeks. I remember that I
filled in "11:09" as my arrival time, so I better get it right. Whenever I go there to visit friends who are in
residence, I bring some unusual beer for John Sieswerda, because it's what I do. I already have this year's
selection, a-waitin' staff consumption. In answer to your question, no, I don't know which studio I will
have. The last person I know who was there was Stacy, last month.
Only Martler bit at last week's cosmic quandary (how many words end in "kin"?). The starter words were
bodkin and pumpkin. Martler did not originally find "skin", as I did, but the results of the poll are as
follows (and I quoteth): Munchkin, Gherkin, Jerkin, Liebkin, Kin, Kindertotenliederkin, Lambkin, Fuckin',
Skin, Foreskin, Mooseskin, Snakeskin, Davyskin. This week's puzzler is a little harder.
Today The Maids clean up this joint, so I must be prepared at any moment to be kicked asunder. At which
point I plan to visit the Framingham Trader Joe's to get some cheeeps that Beth likes (with goat cheese and
reduced fat), and to get yet more provisions at BJ's, including dry cat food. The tension is killa. Meanwhile,
life continues on apace. I am close to finishing etude #71, and it will be a little longer than most. Close
enough that I named it (not a funny title) and included it on the Compositions page. Later in the week (as
in, tomorrow) is Sam's dissertation defense. Thursday I drive to Maine for dinner with Beff -- who will
spend the weekend traveling to, being in, and returning from, Nawth Carolina. And next Monday it's off to
Peterborough.
Last week's fun with the fourth job candidate at Brandeis was fun indeed. This time the restaurant was the
old standby Asian Grill, and I got my fave Tom Yum Soup -- which was a little more lemony this time than
usual. I also brought along the laptop to fill the idle moments, and it was a little surreal retrieving an e-mail
from Adam Marks in the middle of the hall with a recording of his Orleans performance of
Absofunkinlutely. The sound came out of the little laptop speakers just fine, the tempo is blistering, and it
sounds pretty durn cool. And while there, I helped Ms. Ka-ching herself, Carolyn, with a Valentine's Day
movie made with her camera and edited with iMovie, and she took pictures of me. For whatever reason.
At a quarter to six on Wednesday morning I shoved off (figuratively) toward the Big Apple to attend the
latter part of a 10 to 12:45 rehearsal for Take Jazz Chords, Make Strange, to be performed on a Chamber
Music Society Double Exposure concert Thursday. The drive was fairly eventless except for clumps of
slow traffic around Fairfield, and I listened a lot to 880 ABC news -- shows you what I know. After parking
at my usual place on 112th Street, I dropped my bag off at Jay and Marilyn's and took a subway to Lincoln
Center. The subway stations now have kiosks where you can buy your Metro Cards and I was taken aback
-- touch screens? Something associated with the subway that actually works? And hey, at the kiosk, 20
bucks gets you 24 bucks worth of trips. I felt like I had achieved -- no, earned -- a real bargain. What new
innovation will next greet me at a subway stop? Free pie?
The players for my piece were really, really good, and really young, and very nice, and it was fun watching
the interaction as they rehearsed. The blizzard had effectively scuttled at least one rehearsal, so more
efficiency was obviously called for, and their parts had been cued to the hilt. There was not much for me to
say except complain about tempi and give autobiographical detail about the piece. Hey, the outer
movements both have 100 measures -- as Dan Stepner put it, one for every senator. I told the cellist that he
was Rhonda Rider and the clarinetist that he was my wife, and that didn't seem to help.

The weather had gotten really warm -- near 60 in New York -- so I took a long walk both in the park and
out of it, got tired, and crashed at Jay's pad, where I think I must have napped. At 6 I walked to the Abbey
Pub, which is the scene of so many craven evenings with Jay and Marilyn, and met Danny Felsenfeld there,
too -- whose beer I bought. Danny has been losing weight -- but gaining friends. I didn't realize that he and
Jay didn't know each other, but now they do, somewhat, and Danny had to leave early for a concert. So Jay
had the veggie burger, I did Buffalo wings, and the Corsendonk flowed, so to speak. At the end of the
evening, the bartender, whom Jay knows, sent over two free Irish whiskies, and I gave mine to Jay -- I no
be a hard liquor drinker. I think that one did Jay in.
On Thursday there was to be another rehearsal at who knows what time, and no word came to me when that
would be. But I had a noon appointment with Jonathan, and I got there at 11:40. Jonathan was running
behind, as usual, and an assistant typed in the income and charitable stuff. Jonathan was his usual hyper
self, and this time since he was so far behind and others were waiting, too, we simply discussed the return, I
gave him the meticulously calculated numbers I had, paid him, and off I went. I left at 1:15 and walked
from 28th Street to Lincoln Center, since it was yet another gorgeous day. There I spied my old friend
Valerie Guy, who knew when my rehearsal was (3:30), and that's when I found out. My rehearsal was yet
another nice one, and Keith Fitch came in for his 4:30, and I listened until I had to meet Ken Browne for
dinner (5:00) at Dan's. Keith used harmonicas, and that was pretty cool. I was ALSO glad that he had a
keyboard part that was both piano and celesta, since that's what I was working on, and it confirmed
everything I needed to confirm. And the pianist did NOT resemble Rick Wakeman.
The event itself was a hoot. Simeon Hutner, a filmmaker I know from MacDowell, was there, and Anthony
Gatto, whom I know from Yaddo, had a piece, and it was another rollicking evening. And even Don Hagar
made it. In my first give-and-take with Bruce Adolphe, I said that I played with a little lick from Lee Hyla's
bass clarinet piece that Beff was working on and I could have called it "Hyla Lick Maneuvers", but didn't.
Bruce said he had a piece that had "Heimlich" in the title, and I asked if it choked people up. You could
hear all the mental rim shots that people were making at that point, so I sat down. Great concert, twice, and
I finally met my hero Gene Caprioglio from Peters. Who made it through both sittings without dying. After
the concerts, there were many conflicting impulses of places to go, none of which I went to. So Jay and I
subwayed uptown, went to a little bar for one beer, and retired for the evening.
Friday was actually a more eventful day -- it started warm, again, and nearly all of the evidence of Sunday's
record blizzard was gone by now. I did a nice lunch in the Village with Harold Meltzer, two hours at Cafe
Fortuna with Michael Adelson, and another two with Michael's composition student, Aaron. And my
raspberry tart was lovely. My return to Jay and Marilyn's to pick up my stuff coincided with Marilyn's
return from playing at a saxophone conference in Iowa City. And off I went at 6:45, not having the sense of
duty that Jay had to go to a friend's wind ensemble concert. Instead, I drove home midst a sea of high wind
warnings. Except for the dark, it was eventless, and I was home and in bed by 10:30. With my lovely wife.
The three days of incredible warmth demolished the detritus of Sunday's big storm, and our yards are once
again bare. I had considered going onto the flat roof outside our bedroom to shovel some snow off -despite doctor's orders -- but ultimately decided against it. The weather took care of it anyway. The only
snow left is the big pile by the corner of the garage that the professional shovel-boys left there. Though
instead of 5 feet high, it's a foot high.
Saturday turned bitterly cold, and a bunch of quick snow squalls actually left a substantial white dusting
around. The temperature was only about 15, so when the sun came out -- about 5 minutes after the snow
squalls -- the snow in direct sun melted. Pretty cool, as the pictures below will testify. Beff and I walked
downtown to pick up a few things for painting -- finally -- which will happen when she is on vacation, and
nearly got blown over on our way out of the hardware store. Friday's windstorm had snapped a huge branch
on one of our pine trees, so we had to pull it loose, saw it into pieces, and drag it into the discard area. We
also had to readjust the tarp on the storage shed, naturally. A trip to Shaw's for provisions brought us
eventually to K-Mart, as Beff was looking for a small garbage pail for kitty litter for when the cats make
their brief move to Bangor. There I got me 3 new pairs of black jeans, which allowed me to do some triage
upon our return. Everything else was just a light. Later we watched the latest installment of Project Runway

-- it's such an addictive show, even for straight guys.

On Sunday Beff had to go to Maine by 10 in the morning in order to catch a matinee show of Jesus Christ
Superstar done by students at the University of Maine, and there she noticed that there are now some extra
numbers now that kind of suck. Meanwhile, I got two solid days in on etude #71, and it verges on
completion. Yesterday I decided to back up some G5 files on my traveling external hard drive, but one part
of the power cord seems to have gotten lost (I had it at the VCCA but don't know where it is now). I also
decided to do Software Update for the laptop, connected it to the networking cable that was in the Windows
computer, and nothing happened -- no internet, no nuthin'. So I made a trip to the Maynard Geek Computer
store, got a new 25 foot network cable, got a replacement power cord, and noticed a remarkably detailed
birdseye picture of downtown Maynard on the large monitor in the store. It turns out there is a website
called local.live.com that does those road maps and satellite things like in Google Maps and Google Earth,
but it also has some remarkably detailed pictures, taken from four vantage points, of several urban areas -including Maynard. So I looked it up when I got back, and it doesn't work with the Safari browser. But it
does work with Firefox, and it ... is ... so ... cool. There is enough detail that you can see our lawn furniture,
even. It is so geeky that I played with it for quite a while -- probably explaining why etude #71 is not yet
finished.
As mentioned already, updates until mid-April will be sporadic or nonexistent. So get used to it. Today's
pictures include two not at all taken by Big Mike (ka-ching!), but he was in the room when the first was
taken. The first two, taken by Carolyn (ka-ching!) are me in recovery mode behind a table of fixin's, and
me in the Brandeis department officeon Valentines Day (note hearts on page behind). Then there are three
shots of snow that didn't melt because of shadows: a car, a telephone pole (the legs are Beff's), and our
house. Then, two little bits from local.live.com: first, a small thing of our house looking north (you can see
the lawn furniture and garage), and a large picture looking south, where you can see our yard (outlined in
red) and the context of our neighborhood -- including the much remarked-upon Ben Smith Dam. Note the
proliferation of what Beff calls "execu-ick". You can also see just a bit of the old Assabet railway on the
other side of the river.

MARCH 11 BRIEF UPDATE: I have been at the MacDowell Colony for 12 days now, have written etude
#72 and am at bar 160 of a big piece. Full update upon my return April 10, and maybe some more teeny
weeny ones like this. Last night's dinner: steak fries, peas, breaded sesame chicken wings, and salad. I am
here today to paint, but not the way the visual artists at MacDowell do. Crocuses have sprung up in the
back yard, and temp extremes since the last update are 6.8 and 68.0.

-------

MARCH 17 BRIEF UPDATE: Ten-minute movement finished. More on the way. Last night's dinner:
chicken, asparagus, couscous, and salad. Tonight's event: dinner with Lee Hyla and Kate Desjardins. What
once was warm has now been cold.

APRIL 11. Breakfast this morning was Boca meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice,
and coffee. Lunch was a cheeseburger club at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. Last night's dinner was salad
with Good Seasons dressing that's been in the fridge for some time. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS
LAST SIX WEEKS: 6.4 and 73.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS MIDI of the
third movement of my piano concerto. LARGE EXPENSES this last six weeks include Santa Barbara
Olives, $200+, and that's all I remember. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was doing
work study at the NEC library my junior and senior years, I was charged with training the new circulation
chief, or my eventual boss. Her name was Mary Ellen Sweeney, and she was so sweet -- way, way, way,
WAY sweeter than the head librarian, who was in desperate need of you-know-what. Bob McCauley's

contribution to the lexicon that year was her nickname: Smelly Air In Weenie. COMPANIES WHO HAVE
NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none, but a meek shout-out to the local
Jiffy Lube, who still makes you stand there rolling your eyes as they go through a long list of things they
are trying to get you to pay for that they can do that you don't need. COMPANIES WHO HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Inko's because they always do, and Santa Barbara Olives. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words are there that are intrisically funny? THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: stoob. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the ineptness of the current
administration, the new design of the NY Times web page, people who think vowels are better than
consonants, and chipmunks. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: rashers of MacDowell bacon,
fruit for breakfast, unsweetened lemonade and limeade, Santa Barbara olives of various kinds.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK "funky" works at several different speeds. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: "toomey" (a number so special they gave it a name). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE:
Lots of various pages. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a few
things in the Maine house -- Beff says they knock over at least one thing per day. RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 11. DAVY'S BAROMETER
FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 42 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD
BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Bicycles that pedal backwards. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE
SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Biaggio Felts. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: VAL I UM. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,739. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I haven't been shopping for any new
shoes. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.61 at Cumberland Farms: but $2.18 just after the
last update six weeks ago. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE vomit, more vomit, lots and lots more vomit, a sickeningly large torrent of
vomit.
So there I was briefly in the music department this afternoon (Please Post; Summer Opportunities; Come
To This Lecture; Your Faculty Research Request to record your piano concerto was turned down) and
TWICE I got the "when are you going to update your webpage?" query -- each time in increasingly
desparate tones. Or maybe it was disparate tones. Well, it was both. And the answer is -- whenever it is that
you see this.
So what is there to report? Well, I was away at the MacDowell Colony since February 27, leaving there
only a few times (once to paint here in Maynard, once to do dinner with Lee 'n' Kate, once to talk to patrons
of the Rockport Music Festival, and once to talk to a class at the Walnut Hill School), and accomplishing a
great deal. I wrote Don Berman his second etude, my 72nd, on an ancient Hebrew chant (Davy plays
against type). I re-wrote an article on titles for New Music Box. And I wrote three movements of a piano
concerto, which now stands at about 21 minutes. For you old-fashioned composers out there (you know
who you are -- and that's the problem), that includes the orchestrating and entering into Finale, and I can
report that so far it stands at 79 pages. The quickie piano part I generated is at about 36 pages.
The MacDowell trip was my eighth there, and my 20th colony hop in all. I can report that it resembled
other residencies in a lot of ways, and was unique in a lot of other ways. For one, I find it hard to believe
that it was only on my eighth trip to MacDowell that I discovered the old stone amphitheater from 100
years ago. And that this is the first trip where I learned the names of all the maintenance staff and kitchen
help (Rob, Jamie, John, Blake, Anastasia, Lila, Ashley, etc.). And for the first time there I saw both deer
(the white-tailed variety) and wild turkeys (not the one that comes in a bottle, which, if you think of it, is
really hard to get them to do). My studio was Watson, for the second consecutive time; last time I felt a
little listless and that the music coming out was almost arbitrary (Dream Symphony). This time I felt very
energized, and as if at least the scherzo movement of this piece was significantly inspired. I've felt that way
before and I was wrong -- so cave canem, and what it is, too.
And in my last colony hop, in 2003, I have hundreds of pictures of STUFF and maybe eight pictures of
PEOPLE. I rectified that this time out, although a significant portion of my pictures were taken at parties
with people doing stuff they may not want to be remembered for. Though if any organization calls me and
asks me for a professional photo with a candy dot stuck to my forehead -- I've got one. And I can provide
them for Lisa, Christy, and Nikki too (Eduardo, always the innovator, posed, instead, Davy-like, with a
triscuit).

After 20 residencies, I always try to stand back a bit and not get too attached to the other colonists -- being
that I have quite a few lists from previous residencies with addresses and names of people I could now not
identify in a police lineup, and lots of times I've tried to get together with colonists many months or years
later and things just don't work out. Well, that cool displacement thing didn't work this time, either. It took
me many weeks to get into the groove -- as the colonists who predate you have lots of stuff to bond about
already (it was the windstorms and the electricity going out this time) -- but once I did, stuff happened.
Mostly, parties. For instance, I spent about two hours wearing balloons in my shirt one night, also with
lipstick on my lips and eyebrows. The pictures that people took I want to use when I win the Nobel Prize (I
hear they're instituting a prize for silliness). Though I wasn't the only one wearing prostheses that night. But
I may have already said too much.
For the first time since Yaddo 1991, there were people who wanted to play E-flat blues, which is a trick I
use a lot in theory classes (to explain the minor pentatonic scale) -- though there was a brief pilot program
at Yaddo in 2000. Julian, a writer from New York, in particular had the "feeling", just not the technique. It
was interesting to hear him form his ideas and actually develop them through a chorus. He always did the
same stuff in the stop time choruses, though. And one night at dinner the poet Jo and I played chords on the
oil and vinegar bottles -- eventually, with two empty wine bottles accompanying a fairly tuneless rendition
of "Wrapped Around Your Finger". Jo, for her part, is very musical, which hit me when after I played the
"Ray of Light" video she declared "that's the video where she discovered her head voice". E-flat blues in
Gretchen's studio with Jo and Julian playing was both inspired and long.
As usual, I really dug going to open studios, readings, and other presentations -- especially the two that
served unusually strong drinks (one margarita isn't supposed to knock you out, is it?). And finding out that
muscle memory alone is sufficient to sound okay playing the E-flat blues -- thanks for the snowflakes,
Gretchen.
As the weather warmed -- which took longer than a cadence in Tristan und Isolde -- I got to exercise,
finally, hiking all the trails on the property repeatedly, and occasionally doing cartwheels. More on that
later. But the sedentary, reflective lifestyle together with the unusually good food this time conspired to
make me heavier. So back to walking and biking. Except not when I'm in Italy....
Speaking of which, I do that next Tuesday. The housesitter is Christy, a visual artist who had the Heinz
studio. See her website over there to the left. And then when I get back, it's biking again for me, matey.
Back to MacDowell. The last week got pretty intense in the party division, culminating in a dance party in
the amphitheater at night after Lisa's open studio. We were VERY dedicated, as it was maybe 45 out when
it started and 35 when it ended. This is where I rediscovered my inner cartwheel. I also stood on my head
and was asked to form the letters "YMCA" with my legs (as they had nothing else to do at the time). I did
the best I could, and I was told I got the "A" while I was falling over. The one tangible effect these dance
parties had on my post-MacDowell life was that I purchased Nelly's "Hot in Herre" from iTunes. Which
you would think would be intelligent enough to let you find the damn song if you spell "Here" like the rest
of the world does. Yes, that's me -- the rest of the world.
Externally speaking, Beff finished her two-week vacation and took the cats to the place in Maine. Where
they at first hid in the box spring, and lately have discovered many kitty-cubbyholes in the attic. I drive
there tomorrow and will delight, yet again, in the fried pickles at the Chocolate Grill in Old Town. So the
house has been a little weird by myself, since I instinctively have presumed creaky sounds to be cats
following me, which they can't, unless they were many, many miles longer. And about 4 weeks ago, on the
first day around 70 (it was brief indeed), I drove to Maynard so we could paint in the downstairs hallway -there was both a replastered and repaired stress bulge and a repaired ice dam stain in the alcove. The
painting was fun, and Carolyn came along, and the crocuses were out, and the cats were in the windowsills,
and there was beer and seafood, and it was a real hoot. Then it stopped.
And about a week and a half ago I appeared at a soiree (or whatever the afternoon version of that would be
called) for board members and patrons of the Rockport Chamber Music Society. I got some very

stimulating and interesting questions from an audience of people who were my age when I was born. Even
better, I had buffalo wings that night.
Two weeks ago was an adventuresome day. Eddo, a colonist, took a ride with me to the South Acton train
station, where he took a commuter rail in to meet with people at Harvard and MIT. Meanwhile, I did a talk
at the Walnut Hill School and some various things at the house in Maynard. I was at South Acton to pick up
Eddo for the 8:30 arrival, where we had decided to go for sushi at the Korean place in Maynard. The train
came and went, and there was no Eddo. Luckily, he had called my cell phone earlier in the day, and as the
train pulled out of sight, I called him. He answered. "You missed your stop". "(word that means) fecal
matter". Quickly, I devised a plan -- I would drive to the Ayer train station and pick him up there. As I
drove out of the station, he checked his printed schedule: "Yep, there's a stop called Ayer." "Then meet me
there. And get off the train first." He preceded me by 10 minutes, since I didn't know the shortcut (and I did
2 revolutions of the rotary in Ayer, not being sure actually which one brought me downtown). We DID
make it to the Korean restaurant, but they were out of sushi. Eddo got beef bulgogi, which he could not
pronounce. I, by contrast, got something that I could pronounce. And we arrived at Colony Hall that night
at 11:17.
So yesterday was the day of packing, having The Last Breakfast (there was a great moment where I was at
the center of the panel and everyone pointed an accusatory finger), driving home, shopping at Roche
Brothers before my final arrival, unpacking, and preparing the house for summer. Ah, installing the screens
(including the attic, which always involved spraying some hornets to their deaths), oiling the chains on the
bikes, putting oil and gas into the lawnmower, and picking up branches from the yard. How very nice. The
crocuses are now gone by and the daffodils are out. I am not calling them trumpet flowers this year because
I never have before, why start now? This morning, John Aylward and I did a long hike in the nature reserve,
discovering a working old radar tower that looks like a golf ball there (there were cars parked by it), and
after I took him to Brandeis, I took a 6-mile or so bike ride -- to, but not around, Boon Lake. Ah, nature.
And that's about where things stand today. There may be time for another update next Tuesday (my flight is
in the evening), and there may not be. Meanwhile, enjoy the pictures. Since there were so many, I reduced
them to get more in. There are three pics from painting day. Then, follow along: Kyle, Blake and Michelle;
the DAVY t-shirt in the basement of Colony Hall; my studio; Colony Hall in the fog; two of my closeup ice
shots (there are a lot); Lisa and Gretchen; MaryKate, Paula (obscured) and Cassie; Eduardo and Mark;
MaryKate and Christy; David A; Nikki with a candy dot; Lisa setting up the sound system at the
amphitheater; the (dark) dance party there; Mark on the rope over the fire pond; and the picture Julian took
of me and Jo doing the blues. I am thinking of pickles.

APRIL 17. Breakfast this morning was meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner last night was a large salad, and grapes. Lunch was hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 36.0 and 76.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS "Music" by Madonna (the only pop music setting of the word "bourgeoisie" that I know, and yes, I
had to go to dictionary.com to confirm the spelling). LARGE EXPENSES this last week is a new, vastly
more deluxe binding machine, $273. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first colony was
VCCA, and the first presentation I attended was on by a composer -- 2-1/2 hours including a refreshment
break. I remember well a reading by an Israeli journalist and the question and answer session where
someone asked about "the West Bankers", and the response was, "you can't call them West Bankers, not
just because they aren't bankers, but also because you would then have to have Gaza Strippers".
COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Roche Brothers supermarket, who
has someone bring your food to your car, and refuses tips. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What
was it like to vote for W? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: trianicide. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF include anything that uses the word "Rumsfeld", itty bitty flies, and generic e-mails from
work. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Cajun pitted olives, seedless grapes, lemonade.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the cats make a lot of noise at night. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN
1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Reviews 3, and this page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT
TODAY: 1. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is unknown.

RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0. DAVY'S

BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 39 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Glasses that see into the future. THIS WEEK'S
FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Adrianne Clyde. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: Hi.
horn-shaped. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,787. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I want to
make a mistake. I'm going to do it on purpose. I'm going to waste my ti-i-i-ime. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.69 at the local Mobil, $2.77 in Orono. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the first step of a long
voyage, one way of looking at a blackbird, an Easter seal, a blade of grass.
Hey, lots of e-mails last week congratulating me on the resumption of the useless information that goes into
this space (which would be nice if I could intentionally leave it blank. Hey, I'll practice that. Hold on.

I love wasting bandwidth. If that is, indeed, what I am doing. 'cause I'm not sure what bandwidth means in
this context. Maybe there will be more blank space in future updates.
Speaking of which -- the next update won't be until late May, as I am practically on my way out the door,
since I'll be in Italy at the Bogliasco Foundation Liguria Study Center (there may actually be words I left
out) starting ... RSN. I am hoping to finish my piece there, and in any leftover time, either walk around
Italy, or write piano etudes. Your (non-silly) ideas for etudes are welcome. No incendiary devices, talking,
or use of extraneous body parts, please.
So this last week had a nice break in it, as I drove to Bangor and stayed in our SECOND mortgage for a
few days. The place, being much smaller than the Maynard place, makes it easier to hear the much noise
that the cats make at night when at play -- claw-sharpening on the wicker chair in particular, sounds
particularly cavernous. Beff has also allowed them to go into the attic, which is something they beg to do
when the door is closed, and they get into crawl spaces and get all dirty, and stuff. Cammy goes from gray
and white to gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, and white (that's not got MUCH spam in it). During the time
Beff was teaching, I went to the mall to get nice pants for Italy -- for you see, I hear they make you dress
for dinner. And I did, I did.
The event of note was the band and wind ensemble concert at the U of Maine, which we caught and
probably enjoyed. Well, at least the wind ensemble sounded good. The first two pieces were as generic as
they get (Beff said the second one might have been constructed with a band piece construction cookiecutter set that could probably be found on the internet), and then genericness reached its zenith in a
performance of a movement from a Weber clarinet concerto. The cute thing about that being the opening,
which in the arrangement had the solo clarinetist accompanied by nothing but a sea of other clarinets. Cute.
The concert ended with yet another set of variations on that Paganini tune that everybody uses that stopped
about fifteen minutes after it was finished. The encore (The Thunderer, I think) was played about twice as
fast and twice as loud as anything I've ever heard before.
Beff and I drove back at the same time, as she was on her way to Vermont for Easter with family, and the
fastest (though not shortest) route takes her in this direction, and we decided both to go to Maynard, do
salmon burgers on the grill, walk in the newly opened Assabet Nature Preserve, before she continued on.

There we saw exactly one snake and heard exactly no peepers. But the weather was gorgeous -- it had been
raining and cold in Maine -- and I busted out my Baywatch flip flops for the first time this season (you
betta believe they are going with me to Italy).
Hin and Kellery came over for Kellery's birthday and stayed overnight. We hit the Quarterdeck (I got the
clam roll) and Erikson's Ice Cream (not in that order), and enjoyed little single-user limoncello bottles. I
gave them a bunch of SB Olives, which they forgot to take with them. We played with some of my chatter
stones -- little rounded and polished magnetic stones that "chatter" when you throw them in the air a few
inches away from each other. I even used the sound in my piece -- three percussionists doing it should be
impressive. And we took silly pictures wearing said chatter stones.
Saturday was quite warm, and I'm pleased to report that the rhubarb is growing very fast, the daffodils are
out, the forsythias are blooming, and the quince bush and front yard rhododendrons are starting to bud. It
was a day of yard work, and I'm also pleased to report actually mowing small bits of the lawn -- we have a
bit of crab grass in the far back that looks like the back of Dennis the Menace's head (not the British Dennis
the Menace). Late in the day, Christy -- the housesitter while I'm gone -- came with her trailer of stuff,
which was installed under the pine trees, and I was impressed that she knows how to back a truck with a
trailer and aim it. Then I gave her the tour, we did the Quarterdeck, and we tore another page (figuratively)
off the calendar.
Early in the week, I did my first traverse of parts of the Assabet Wildlife Refuge with John Aylward, and
the exercise was good. This was followed by lunch in Hudson, and a trip to the impressive bridge over the
Assabet for the bike trail -- and it is BACK UP. So we walked on the bridge, looked at things way down,
made fun of various things, and I brought him to Brandeis, where I got my mail, etc. -- I believe I already
reported that last week. I have now taken two exercise bike rides, including the one around Boon Lake, and
saw ONE of my dogs that I regularly give bones to. Max was not available.
Cassie seems to have left MacDowell, as we got an e-mail from her about getting to all her pictures on a
Kodak site online. They are impressive, especially the ones from the night of balloons (yo, I am WAY cuter
than Gina Lollobridgida). And -- the noive -- there was a dance party in Calderwood AFTER I LEFT. I'll
have to see someone about that.
So Beff took the binding machine with her to Maine, before I realized I needed to use it before I left for
Italy. So I got a new, more deluxe one this morning at Staples (it can hole-punch 20 sheets, not just 10), and
took the opportunity of being on Route 2A to pop into Quick Cuts for a quick haircut. I was tired of having
wings, and now I don't. I'm also tired of all the times the phone wings and the caller ID says "Unknown".
VCCA Hal has been sending "poems by others" as a regular e-mail feature, and now it seems he has begun
an epic poem called "35 etudes for piano" to be dedicated to me. Hal has a blog, and you can link to it in
blue over there to the left. Check it out, check it out.
So I repeat. No new updates until late May.
This week's pictures include the before-and-after of our painting day a month ago, a lovely pile of junk that
was left outside at the Wildlife Refuge, a baby radar thing we encountered in the refuge, the first green
coming on to the weeping willows by the river, John Aylward not learning how to relax in a hammock, Hell
and Kinnery trying out the Korean masks that Seung Ah gave us, them posing with a pair of chatter stones,
and me at MacDowell being way cuter than Gina Lollobridgida. If you got to this page by a Google search
for Gina Lollobridgida, I guess you're out of luck. But now you've got three hits on the same page. Gina
Lollobridgida. Four!

The Title Pool

By David Rakowski

Published: April 19, 2006

David Rakowski
What's in a title? A piece by any other
Photo by John Aylward
name would sound the same. Do they
relate to the music? Should they relate to
the music? Does there even have to be a relationship?

It's pretty hard answering all of those questions, because the answer is different for
every composerand indeed, even for different pieces by the same composer. Titles
are specific and nonspecific, poetic and concrete, generic and particular, clever and
stupid (between which there is a fine line). Titles can suggest how to listen to a piece,
or give no clues whatsoever; they can link a piece to a tradition or ostentatiously
renounce one; they can call attention to technical details in the piece, or they can refer
to extra-musical metaphors that may have informed its composition; they can even
suggest something of the personality, prejudices, training, or hobbies of a composer.
So trying to answer those questions with a yes or no is foolishsince the answer is yes
and no. Except to the very first question.
One thing's for surea piece's title is frequently the first contact between the
composer and the listener. It's through the title that the listener will form his or her
first impressions or set expectations (or preconceptions) about the piece and its
composer. A perfect example appeared on this website in a review of a CD of music by
this writer: "if I were going to infer anything from the titles bestowed upon his
compositions, my guess would be that this guy is a total goofball, or at least harbors
some strange affinity towards Babbitt's bon mot titles." Got it in one.
So what is a "good" title? What is a "bad" title? Are those even pertinent questions?
Even the "best" title in the history of humankind can't save or make up for clunky
writing and mishandled form, and by the same token, the "worst" title can't take away
from a sublime moment when, say, the English horn emerges from a busy texture and
takes over. Density 21.5 refers to the atomic weight of platinum, but is it a "good" title
for a solo flute piece? Daniel Felsenfeld's Smoking My Diploma reveals Danny's attitude
toward the physical manifestation of the conclusion of his education, but does the title
prepare me adequately to listen to a piece for amplified and distorted oboe, cello and
piano? Would I listen to the piece differently if it were called Composition for Amplified
and Distorted Oboe, Cello and Piano? Hey, supposing the answer to that question is
yes, would it actually be a different piece if it had a different title? Suppose Varse's
piece were called Starts Low, Gets High. Suppose The Pines of Rome were called My
Weekend in the Bahamas. Or Smoking My Diploma
We're inundated with titles every day, from newspaper articles to books to poems to
technical manuals to pop songs to pieces of visual art and a lot more. In most cases
it's the title that is our shorthand, or placeholder, for referring to those things when we
think about them or talk about them. So, by that token, it must be good for titles to be
unique, or at least distinctive. But, of course, titles are not subject to copyright. I can
call my bassoon duo Mahler's Symphony No. 2 in C minor if I want to, or Scrapple
from the Apple, or The Wizard of Oz. If titles were copyrightable, there would be no
more pieces called Symphony No. 1 or Invention or "Call Me"indeed, all the short
titles would already be taken, and titles of new pieces would be as long as this

paragraph.
Let's talk about popular music. I love the titles of Country and Western tunes because
so many of them indulge in clever punning and word playafter all, who could see the
single of "All My Ex's Live in Texas (That's Why I Live in Tennessee)" at Tower Records
and not be tempted to buy it? Or "Get Your Tongue Out of My Mouth Because I'm
Kissin' You Goodbye"? It's a great game making up C &W titles for songs that will
never be writtenmy personal favorite is "Even My Dung Beetle Can't Stand You
'Cause You Ain't S**t." These titles serve a commercial purpose: they are memorable
and unique, so that when you go to the CD store or look online you know what to ask
for. And when enough people ask for it, down payments are made on real estate by
artists, distributors, agents, and everyone else in the chow line.
The titles of commercial pop songs similarly are meant to be memorable and particular,
and in a pretty rigid way. Most often the title comes from the song's hook. Since the
hook usually comes in the chorus, you hear it several times during each play; so
naturally when you go get your own copy, it's the hook that you remember. Think "Let
It Be" or "Hollaback Girl" or "Little Red Corvette" or "I Want You Back" or "Signed,
Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours" or any one of hundreds of other songs you may know
admit it, when you read the titles it brought to mind a little bit of those songs. (Now
quick: Symphony No. 4! What piece came to mind? How about Intermezzo?) Still, pop
song titles are not uniquewizened ones may remember that "Hold On" by Wilson
Phillips was one of two songs on the Billboard Chart with that name at the time it was
making me lurch so frequently to change the channel. And a brief trip to iTunes reveals
no fewer than 129 tracks with that name available for download, of which more than
half are different songs.
Since mass market popular music is overwhelmingly vocal music (i.e. songs, with
text), the relationship between the song and the title is usually straightforward. And
titles of songs, and by extension, album titles are generally short. An album's title
should fit on the spine of a CD case, after all. Of course, there are exceptions to this
tendency. But I doubt Fiona Apple would get up in front of an audience and say, "I'm
going to sing a few tunes from my album, When the Pawn hits the conflicts he thinks
like a king what he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight and he'll win the
whole thing 'fore he enters the ring there's no body to batter when your mind is...
(That's just half of the title; I fell asleep typing it). The side of the CD reads "Fiona
AppleWhen the Pawn."
In the world of so-called art music, the impulse to sell is less of an issue, hence titles
are more abstract and more variedespecially as so much of it has no text from which
to draw a title. I imagine that in the early days of notated music, titles were hardly an
issue at all. The vast majority of notated music was vocal music, and it was easy to
refer to a piece by the beginning of the text (the closest thing the medievals had to a
hook). If a composer wrote a polyphonic setting of the Agnus Dei (called in the church
"the Agnus Dei"), it was pretty sure to be called "Agnus Dei," so as to distinguish it
from a "Requiem Aeternam," which has a different liturgical function. When Perotin set
a text that began with the phrase "Viderunt Omnes", I'm pretty sure it was called
"Perotin's 'Viderunt Omnes'" (and not what several generations of music appreciation
students have called it: "the 'Ee-hee Hee-hee Hee Hee' song"). I also imagine it
became a little harder when composers became suitably prolific to have multiple

settings of the same text, especially a Mass. Here's where the underlying chant
material might have been used to identify which mass setting a particular composer
dide.g. the Armed Man Mass.
I imagine that when instrumental music started to come into its own, then titles
became more important. No familiar text to quote? How do I think of this music and
what do I call it? Hey, how about a canzona per sonare? If you like that, you'll love
Canzona per Sonare No. 2! But those were both just practice for Canzona per Sonare
No. 3! So a whole new class of titles emerged having some reference to or derivation
from Latin and Greek words for sound and singing. Sonata? Sounding. Sinfonia?
Sounding Together. Concerto? Sounding Together. Cantata? Lots of singing. Oratorio?
Really, really serious singing. Also, when composers became more particular about
which instrument played which part, titles simply referencing the size and makeup of
the group emerged: three instruments? Trio. Four instruments? Quartet (or
sometimes, Trio Sonatablast that multiplayer continuo line!). Three string
instruments and a piano? Piano Quartet. Four wind instruments and one brass
instrument? Woodwind Quintet. Oops. These composers had it pretty easy. Though I
do imagine it must have been a little comical for audience members to argue the
merits of Haydn's 57th Symphony over those of the 69th, 72nd, 77th, 78th, and 82nd.
It still is.
Abstract musical titles must have emerged not long after it was decided that it was
okay for music to be about itself, without an underlying liturgical function, and with
some sort of perceived affect. There must have been debates at some point later as to
whether music could representor at least evokesomething other than itself. Hence
titles like Pastorale, and eventually nicknames for pieces originally given generic titles
by their composersSun, Pathetique, Appassionata, Jupiter, Clock, Military, Rhenish,
Resurrection. Once the Romantics took over and gave us titles like "Gray Clouds," "The
Poet Speaks," "A Frightful Experience," and "To A Wild Rose", all bets were offand
the range of possible titles exploded.
Nowadays, just about anything is possible. Composers still write settings of the Agnus
Dei and write symphonies and piano trios and number them. Titles don't necessarily
need to be brief for commercial reasons, and there is no length limit. They run the
range from the ever-popular Untitled (I wonder who would own the copyright on that
one if it were possible?) and its sequel, Untitled, to La Monte Young's The Empty Base
(1991-present), including The Symmetries in Prime Time When Centered above and
below The Lowest Term Primes in The Range 288 to 224 with The Addition of 279 and
261 in Which The Half of The Symmetric Division Mapped above and Including 288
Consists of The Powers of 2 Multiplied by The Primes within The Ranges of 144 to 128,
72 to 64 and 36 to 32 Which Are Symmetrical to Those Primes in Lowest Terms in The
Half of The Symmetric Division Mapped below and Including 224 within The Ranges
126 to 112, 63 to 56 and 31.5 to 28 with The Addition of 119 and with One of The
Inclusory Optional Bases: 7; 8; 14:8; 18:14:8; 18:16:14; 18:16:14:8; 9:7:4; or The
Empty Base (1991).
***
I have tried to come up with a brief classification scheme for the ways that composers
have used titles. The margin of error is roughly 75 points, and it's definitely a

beginner's list. The classifications below are not mutually exclusive and often overlap
indeed, the Venn diagram would look like a bubble bath. Nor do the classifications hold
for every title ever devised. Hey, this isn't a Ph.D. thesis.
1. Titles Taken from Pre-existing Texts
The most obvious examples of this kind of title are text settings that appropriate the
names of the original poems or prose works. But there are also instrumental pieces
that draw some portion of their inspiration from a literary work and are titled
accordingly. I have encountered at least a half dozen pieces called A Certain Slant of
Light (Emily Dickinson). Paul Moravec's Tempest Fantasy (inspired by the Shakespeare
play) is a well-known example, and Anthony Gatto has a violin and piano duo called
The Sheltering Sky (after the Paul Bowles novel).
2. Generic Titles
These titles reference a pre-existing name for a form or genre, most often used by
composers no longer living, and often let you know how many times a composer used
this form before this piece. Sonata No. 1 in C major, Symphony No. 3, Fugue in G,
Second Cantata, Fantasy March, Ballade, Intermezzo, Polonaise, Waltz, Song, Blues
No. 4, Stravinsky's Symphony in Three Movements. [Ed. Note: Generic titles are so,
well, generic, that standard usage also precludes them appearing in quotes or italics,
which ought to tell you something.]
In these titles, the composer doesn't mind making at least some casual reference to a
traditionwhether it be slavish, ironic, or somewhere in betweenand probably thinks
that the music stands on its own without any other sort of description. ("This is my
symphony, which is mine, and what it is, too.") The composer hasn't made a big effort
to suggest how to listen to the piece other than in reference to other pieces you know
seriously or ironically.
Generic titles have the potential to cause a little grief in this age of online downloads.
To wit, I was recently looking on iTunes for a recording of the Roy Harris Third
Symphony and was taken to a Bernstein collection of recordings of American music.
The album had three pieces called Symphony No. 3, none of them with the composer
identified. If I didn't already know how Roy Harris's symphony goes, I wouldn't have
had a clue from the 30 second previews which one I should download.
2a. Generic Titles: Ensemble Division
These titles simply name the ensemble involved: Second Piano Trio, String Quartet,
Composition for Viola and Piano, etc. Some composers use these titles as jokes
Bassoon Quintet for a solo flute piece, or Ezra Sims's String Quartet No. 2 (1962)
(written for a mixed quintet in 1975, titled so that a nonexistent piece attributed to
him in Baker's Biographical Dictionary would no longer be incorrect). Again, here the
composer gives no immediate clue as to how a listener might approach the piece
except in relation to previous piano trios, string quartets, etc.

2b. Generic Titles: It's Only Music Division

Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians, Bartk's Music for Strings, Percussion, and
Celesta, Adams's Nave and Sentimental Music, and Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
(which, ironically, I tend to listen to in the morning) range from the generic to the
adjectival clause. No assembly required.
3. Titles That Tell You About Technical or Note-Grinding Processes Used to Compose
the Pieces
Spectral Study, Arrays, Dodecafoniaa title I've seen several times (I hang out on the
East Coast)and Whole-Tone Etude are examples of such titles. La Monte Young's title
above is such a title. Donald Martino's Mosaics refers to a technique of generating
pitches. I've known composers so wrapped up in the particulars of the notes that they
come up with titles like Tri Tetra Hexa, for instance, to describe a piece that derives
12-tone sets first with trichords, then with tetrachords, and finally with hexachords.
(Babbitt did this in his woodwind quartet, which he called Woodwind Quartet.) I don't
have problems with these titles, though sometimes I wonder if what I'm supposed to
do when I listen is engage in advanced ear-training. I have yet to exclaim "Yes! The
climax comes exactly where it should: when the first discrete hexachord, so long
suggested but never revealed, is finally unfolded!" But, of course, I exaggerate; pieces
titled this way are often very expressive and not necessarily just about the notes,
despite the titles. I suppose Barber's Essays fit here, but just barely.
4. Titles That Reference Other Titles
These titles either exactly reproduce or allude to another title, whether it's a title of a
piece of music, a piece of visual art, or something in literature. Hence Milton Babbitt's
Il Penseroso references, well, Milton (John Milton). Kyle Gann's Bud Ran Back Out
references the be-bop standard In Walked Bud. The same composer's Nude Rolling
Down an Escalator references Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase. Jonathan
Kramer's Notta Sonata explains itself. I find these titles inviting and disarming, as they
usually show that the composer has a sense of humor. Though given a program
beginning with Nude Rolling Down an Escalator, I'm not sure I would know what to
expect, except maybe downward rushing scales. Which is probably a good thing. To
call a piece Concerto for Orchestra nowadays, as Lutoslawski, Jennifer Higdon, and
Steven Stucky have done, is to reference Bartk's.
5. Titles That Allude to the Other Senses, Especially Sight
We are chock full of titles that reference other sensations, which quite often are
described as providing the inspiration for a piece. Indeed, David Smooke's Taste
Sensation very specifically refers to such a thing, and it's also a pun. Ross Bauer's
Chimera refers to a kind of musical motive that appears and disappears, well,
chimerically. Messiaen's Chronochromie means time colors. A great many of these
titles reference a particular quality of lighta metaphor much used in music through
the ages (think nocturnes and Carter's Night Fantasies). Michael Torke's color pieces
are obvious examples. Jeffrey Mumford, who was trained as a painter, frequently titles
his pieces evocatively using visual sensations in combination with other sensations:

ringing fields of enveloping blue, in forests of evaporating dawns, amid the light of
quickening memory, distinct echoes of glimmering daylight, within a cloudburst of
echoing brightness. These titles are very engaging, as they invite a kind of
metaphorical listening that can be quite satisfying.
6. Titles That Allude to Something in Nature
Lee Hyla's Mythic Birds of Saugerties uses some bird calls from species common in
upstate New York as musical materials. Messiaen similarly lets us know his affinity for
bird calls in Merle Noir, Oiseaux Exotiques, and Reveil des Oiseaux, among others.
Crumb's Voice of the Whale famously imitates whale sounds. Composers have also
referenced rain forests, walks on the beach, fish jumping in a stream, the cotton is
high, etc. in any number of titles. Again, these titles invite a different sort of
metaphorical listening which can be very welcoming.
7. Punning Titles
These titles make puns on other titles, on popular expressions, on well-known lines
from poems, books, and TV shows, and are often outrageous. Milton Babbitt's punning
titles have become legendary, for instance: None But the Lonely Flute, The Joy of More
Sextets (a reference to the piece's six-part counterpoint), Around the Horn (yes, a solo
horn piece), andwhile we're doing baseball jokesWhirled Series (also a reference to
where the notes come from). Eric Chasalow's Suspicious Motives, Paul Lansky's Idle
Chatter, Scott Lindroth's Spin Cycle, Lee Hyla's Riff and Transfigurations are all pun
titles. As Daniel Felsenfeld posited in his NMBx article on humor in music, these are all
very serious pieces by very serious composers, and the funny titles seem to be meant
to be disarming, to put the listener at ease before encountering some pretty
challenging stuff.
8. Places and Times
Partch's Barstow: Eight Hitchhiker Inscriptions from a Highway Railing at Barstow,
California is an example of a title taken from a locationin this case, the location of
graffiti that is set to music. There are also composers for whom the place and/or dates
where/when a piece was written become the titlethink An American in Paris
(Gershwin), Grand Canyon Suite (Grof), The Dharma at Big Sur (Adams), Vermont
Counterpoint (Reich), New York Notes (Wuorinen). The titles of the piano pieces
recently written by Pascal Dusapin for Marilyn Nonken simply give the starting and
ending dates for the composition of each one. It seems like Feldman's Rothko Chapel,
Varse's Amriques and Ives's Central Park in the Dark would also fit here.
9. Other
Every list has its box for the pieces that don't fit, and this one is no exception. Some of
my favorite titles "fit" into this classificationDavid Lang's Eating Living Monkeys, the
aforementioned Smoking My Diploma, Eve Beglarian's Machaut in the Machine Age,
Lee Hyla's Amnesia Variance. Let's also put Untitled pieces in this box.
***

I don't intend to answer the questions posed at the beginning of this essay (you'll find
questions for discussion in the back of your textbooks), except perhaps to bring up my
own relationship to titles. I'm pretty sure I was asked to write this essay because the
titles I have used myself have run the gamut; I am also often in on the titling process
for the pieces my students write. In the latter case, there is a list of things I advise
against: avoid plural noun titles (I cut my compositional teeth in the time of
Concatenations and Gestures and Obfuscations and Ratios and, frankly, I am tired of
the dizziness from rolling my eyes that much) unless they are puns or references to
other titles; avoid ellipses, especially leading ellipses (it almost always comes off as
mannerist and pretentious); and avoid long phrases all in lowercase unless it is a
quote or pun (again, often mannerist and pretentious, and besides, they won't fit on
the spine of a CD). My best students are the ones who ignore those rules.
Like a lot of composers reading this, my titles range from serious to silly to
outrageously silly. I have written (as of the posting of this essay) 72 piano etudes,
almost all of which have punning titles, and several chamber pieces with similarly
funny titles. All of the music is quite serious and detailed, however, so the titles
hopefully have the effect of putting listeners at ease. Sometimes, though, the clever
title thing backfires. Recently at a concert where the composers were expected to
speak about their pieces before the performances, the moderator introduced the other
composers with "let's talk about your music." I was introduced with "let's talk about
your titles." I could make a down payment on a house if I had a nickel for every time
someone said something, paused, and said to me, "You could use that for a title."
Believe it or not, when I finish a piano etude, I hardly ever have a title ready. I often
take long walks with my wife Beth during which we shuffle through all the puns we can
think of for what the etude is "about" in order to come up with a short list (I give her
full credit for the "accent" etude title: Accents of Malice). Lately friends and colleagues
have been lining up to get in on the act. After I finished an etude for the left hand,
people called and e-mailed with their title suggestions as if the future of civilization
depended on it. There were advocates for "left" jokes: Left Bank, Left Out to Dry, Left
Alone (a finalist), Left Behind, Leftenant. There were advocates for "left" expressed in
another language: Sinister Motives (another finalist), Gauche Busters (got a huge
number of votes, but I hated it), Yes Sinister, Sinister Cathedral. And the jockeying for
titling privileges got strangely intense. Finally, more than a week after I had finished
composing it (which took only four days), I got the title on my own: Ain't Got No Right.
And the Symphony No. 4 that came to my mind was the one by Brahms.
***
David Rakowski was born on a Friday the 13th, and, unrelatedly, grew up in St.
Albans, Vermont. He played trombone until he stopped. He has lived in a redwood
forest and on the eastern shore of Maryland, and now lives in western central eastern
Massachusetts, so that the commute to his job at Brandeis is 25 minutes. He and his
wife Beth share a red canoe.

MAY 24. Breakfast this morning was meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner last night was a clam roll at the Quarterdeck restaurant. Lunch was 97% fat free Hebrew
National hot dogs. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS: 30.2 and 81.1. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Owner of a Lonely Heart" by Yes. LARGE
EXPENSES this last five weeks include a necklace for Beff, 150 Euro, airport transportation, $222, and
that's about it. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: As a kid of 9, I coveted the Monkees second
album, which sold for $2.87 at the local W.T. Grant -- before there was a state sales tax. I did voluminous
chores around the house in order to earn the $2.87 to buy it, and I practically wore out the grooves on the
record. By playing it a lot. What did I learn about responsibility and the cost of things? Probably nothing.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Air France
and especially Charles deGaulle Airport, Terminal 2. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY is the Bogliasco Foundation, and then some. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: Who the heck voted for me for Faculty Senate? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sklurge.
THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include breakfast focaccia and changing planes. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hot sauce, hot sauce, hot sauce, ripe tomatoes, hot sauce, pepperoncinis,
hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Portofino coast. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1
AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Reviews 4 added, Compositions, Performances. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST FIVE
WEEKS is unknown. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
WEEK: 5. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 33 out of 100. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: competent French airport management.
THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Hieronymus Meaux. SUBJECT OF
THAT SPAM: conflu 238. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,485. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE
THIS WEEK: I didn't buy any gas the last five weeks, but the lowest area price is $2.929. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the
Italian government, a stone in your shoe, the vomit the maids didn't clean up, a Mexican jumping bean.
I am back from a lovely stay in Italy at the Bogliasco Foundation, and I brought with me the Italian cold.
So while I am quite happy about the time I had there and the work I got done, Beff will report that I have
been sniffing and coughing -- especially at night -- and it bums me out because this is only the second cold
I have had since the millennium break. So pardon my whining.
So I made it to the airport just fine, while Geoff was staying at the house for a Musica Viva gig, and the
flights to Paris and then to Genoa went without much of a hitch. Though there's this asinine thing at
DeGaulle Airport when you change planes -- you have to go through security again, and there are few signs
directing you to the terminal you need to find. "Check-In required" was on my ticket stubs, so when I found
the sub-terminal where the Genoa flight was leaving from, I put my ticket through the "express check-in"
machine, and got a "cannot read ticket. You are not checked in" message. Finally I figured out where to go
(I was actually already checked in), to an express security area (I was the only one in line), and got to an
extremely featureless waiting area to get on the People Mover that would take us to our plane, a CanAir
700 waiting out on the Tarmac in a different time zone. The flight to Genoa was hitchless, though I was
surprised to be flying over snow-capped mountains -- I guess the Alps go farther east than I thought. The
plane did a big spiral into Genoa, which is a pretty small airport with two pretty short runways, and I can
report that a CanAir 700 can go from 300 mph to 0 in about 5 seconds (the passengers were able to do so in
about 7). After going through the customs line (I was 2nd in line, but the agent started with the person 5th
in line -- those Europeans), I encountered a man holding a sign saying "Liguria Study Center. David
Rakowsy", and even though it wasn't strictly true, I uttered my first Italian in Italy to that man: "Eccomi".
For comparison's sake, my first Italian in Rome was "Non sono in coda", though I think I should have said
"fila" in place of "coda".
So I got a lovely ride in a tiny hatchback from the airport to the Bogliasco Foundation -- just barely east of
Genoa and on the coast -- which involved going through exactly nine tunnels, some of them two miles long
or more. Fighting through the haze of jet lag, I tried to have a basic Italian conversation with the driver
(Danilo, who was to serve us at dinner more than two dozen times), and I remember that gas (benzina) is
expensive, cars are small, and people are easygoing. The haze of jet lag prevented more from seeping in.

Meanwhile, I got driven in Bogliasco through what seemed like little mazes just barely wide enough for
cars, my luggage was carried into a spacious villa, and there were people having lunch that said Hi. In
English. I was shown my room (actually, roomS), came downstairs to have lunch, did my best to stay
awake, ate, talked, and went back to my bedroom. At which point I discovered my suitcase was ticking.
The last jolt of my suitcase being put down in my room caused my electronic metronome to turn on, and I
was pretty glad that didn't happen in the airport. 'Cause, like, Italy isn't the best place to buy new clothes,
metronome, score paper, valigia, etc. I napped until 6:30, showered, got all fancily dressed up, and walked
down to the main building of the foundation with the other Fellow in my villa, Daniele, who spoke nearly
no English.
So here is the poop. The Bogliasco Foundation is on the Ligurian coastline, which is a very hilly area, and
those hills are steep. There are two large buildings at "street" level that contain offices and housing and
studios for four fellows/couples. A second parcel is 200 or 300 feet up one of those steep hills straddling a
long staircase, and there are two sizable villas in that parcel, each of which houses two Fellows. Fellows
learn a password to open the electronic gates to get into any of the parcels. It seemed that those of us in the
upper villas each got three rooms: a bedroom, a study, and a veranda. My veranda was particularly large
and scenic. In addition, the visual artist gets one level of a small villa where there is a studio, and the
musician (that would be me) gets a separate structure even farther up the hill with a piano and (unlike
Bellagio) a bathroom. Every villa and studio has wireless internet access, and since my studio was the
farthest up, I got the biggest view. Dude, of the Mediterranean. I was also right next to a tennis court which
the Fellows don't get to use -- unless, like Robert Frost, you like playing tennis without a net.
The structure of the day is as follows: breakfast runs from 7:45 to 9, and stuff is left out for you in
whichever villa you stay. Lunch is 12:45 to 1:30 -- in the street-level villa if your room is there or in the
Orbiana villa if your room is up the hill. Drinks before dinner are at the street-level building at 7:15 and
dinner is at 7:45, which is served in a formal manner. So you must dress for dinner (my poor jacket
survived 26 wearings and is none the worse for wear). Afterwards there are teas and apperetifs and a drink
closet available. And sometimes some of the assembled would venture to a bar for some birra alla spina.
There were, in all, nine there as Fellows -- one more than the eight you would expect because two of them
are a married couple and both Fellows. There was me; Paul, a filmmaker from Ireland and living in
Brooklyn whose studio was in the upper area; Cristina, an art critic and curator and translator from Milan
also living in the upper area; Daniele, a sculptor from Italy living in the same villa as me; Gennady, a
dictionary-maker from Moscow; William, a wearer of many hats including philosopher from Vanderbilt
University; Michael, a well-known mystery novelist and TV writer; Maureen, an historian and wearer of
many hats from Duke University; and Gurchuran, a writer and columnist from Delhi. Italian and English
and snippets of French and Spanish were spoken at the formal meals, and occasionally (due to my
influence, no doubt) we got silly.
For four and a half weeks, the food was unfailingly excellent, and at least one local dish is worth noting:
pansotti, a ravioli in a nut cream sauce (I have pictures...). Though by three weeks into the residency some
of us (especially me) were getting stir crazy over the lack of strong-tasting food -- so when Paul's S.E.
Quoc came from New York, he was implored to bring hot sauces. I managed to consume all of the small
vial of Frank's Hot Sauce he brought within 24 hours. The Sciracca hot sauce, meanwhile, sated us for days
and days. Gurchuran's wife Bunu was able to visit for a week also, but those are all the spouses etc. that
were able to make it. Though on the second day when I realized just how gorgeous the whole area and
experience were, I tried to convince Beff to carve out a time for a visit. But the time was short and
transportation too expensive to justify doing it.
There was plenty of exercise to be had -- we just had to get onto the staircase that separated the two upper
villas and go up, up, up, and up, and we got to see many interesting things from hill culture. The San Ilario
Church was a nice strenuous hike that Paul and Cristina and I did on occasion, and once Paul and I tried to
see how high we could get. We encountered a virtual forest of rosemary bushes and stone terrace fences
where the trail petered out that kept us from going any higher, but the view from that high up was pretty
spectacular. And did I mention -- the view from just about anywhere was of the Mediterranean sea. Also
discovered eventually was the Grimaldi Park in Nervi close by, and the sea walk connecting our "Irish Pub"
(the Pub Duca) to the village of Nervi, about 3 miles in length and threading over several rocky beach

areas. The town of Bogliasco itself was small and dominated by a gigantic railroad bridge, which also had
beaches. And a supermarket called "Basko". And a few nice shops that cater to tourists. Apparently the
tourist season is big there, and it was just getting under way as our time there was ending. What did I buy in
Bogliasco? Some fruits and amaro at Basko, and a necklace for Beff at Longines Gioelleria. No, really.
So I worked very, very hard to finish my piece, and did just that. Thanks to our lunch conversations -- Paul,
who had an annoyingly good command of Italian, Cristina, who IS Italian, and Daniele -- I got to invent a
new musical term, "Va scimiamerda", or go apeshit. Cristina approved. I never asked about "anziani
scoreggi", or old farts. The va scimiamerda section is for a little Rick Wakeman moment when the soloist
plays both the piano and a toy piano. I also extracted one buttstick in the fourth movement: there is a
passage with BOXES in which the strings improvise around a few pitches. There goes all my uptown cred.
And I wrote a 3-minute cadenza while at the same time encouraging the soloist to do his/her own. So the
piece times out at 33 minutes, approximately, probably more like 35. And it's tight.
In the time after finishing the piece, I started work on a piano quintet, which oddly started doing bird-inflight gestures. That got me to listening more closely to the birds at Bogliasco, and since I also have to
write a piece for flute/piccolo and two pianos, I took time to transcribe the birdsongs I was hearing. Click
on the green "Birdsongs" link on the left to see what I got. At this point I have to go back to the piano
quintet and rewrite what I have to make it, um, easier. A little easier, anyway.
On my last full weekend Klaus came to visit, and it was a welcome interruption, though I got a little
blistery from all the walking we had to do. Klaus being around gave us a good excuse to frequent the tourist
dives on the sea walk, and I got to have a real Italian pizza (or what seemed like one) as well as some
crappy beer. Both nights he was there, we ended at the Duca Pub with the mostly Belgian beers they had,
and it was quite welcome. Klaus's hotel was on the Viale delle Palme, and it was just like being back on
Palm Drive at Stanford -- except that there was culture nearby. Klaus brought an Australian hot sauce,
which certainly made my last week there.
Since most of the fellows arrived within a day or two of each other, there was plenty of opportunity for
conversation, and strong bonds were formed -- especially those of us who lunched in the upper villa. We
tossed breadsticks into each other's mouths (actually never succeeding) and invented silly cross-lingual
expressions (for instance, "rompere vento", or break wind, has no meaning in Italian). And there were also
the hikes up the staircase into the hills, trips into town, etc. Since Beff is thinking about doing a video piece
on trains, I took quite a few train movies with my digital camera, and you, dear reader, can see one of them
by clicking on the "Trainbridge" link in yellow above and on the left -- we both remarked that the landscape
reminds one of the Triplets of Belleville.
On one day in our first week, Alessandra, the Assistant Director of the Foundation, organized a trip for us
into Genoa proper, where we saw the site of Columbus's house, the old gate to the city, old churches, old
ducal palaces, relics, and the port, and it was a fabulous trip all around. This was the only time I was to go
this far away from Bogliasco, as I was satisfied to be doing my work and to take lots and lots of walks.
There was a big overcrowded flower show to shun and also a big and vastly overcrowded mass fish fry in a
neighboring town to shun, and shun I did. In 32 days, I never tired of the view from my bedroom window,
of the view from my studio, or the sea walk. I probably would have eventually.
Paul and Cristina left the day before I did, which was a little sad, especially as our numbers were
diminished at dinner that night. On the morning of my last day, I started coming down with the cold which
I now hold. As usual, I got up early, and took the opportunity to walk into town one last time, and stand by
the train bridge that goes UNDER the Foundation to try and take a movie of a train emerging -- and was
successful. But you can't see it, so there. I got a cab to the airport, and it was uneventful. The flight to Paris
was uneventful, though it was windy and bumpy on the way down, and I had a mere 55 minutes to make
my connection. Here is where the fun begins. As the clock to my 3:55 connection ticked, the plane landed
at 3:05. We got into the people mover by 3:25. We got let into the terminal at 3:35, where there were NO
signs pointing to the E terminal where my connection was (the "transfer desk" and "shuttle" mentioned
while we were on the plane were both nonexistent). Meanwhile, my throat was getting dry from the cold.

Finally I found a sign pointing to Terminal E, which was a VAST distance, and when I entered it, there was
a vast array of check-in desks with nothing pointing to departure gates. By 3:50 I found the door to the
departure gates and it was preceded by -- about 75 people in line for passport control. After which there
were a grand total of TWO security stations we had to pass through. About 50 people said "my flight leaves
in 5 minutes!" to no reaction from security (as they were French). Throat getting dryer. People started
cutting in line, so I did, too. And made it to my gate at 4:10. There was still a people mover waiting there,
so I did not miss the flight. Meanwhile, I stood on the mover for a good 35 minutes, all the while watching
people scurry back in the terminal for other flights. So luckily my flight was an hour late. Otherwise I
would have been a day late. And a dollar short.
And on this flight, I was seated close to a lavatory and next to a Russian. Who changed seats, saying in
broken English "I'm not too interested in toilet sound". Excellent, I thought, more leg room for a 7-hour
flight! So about an hour into the flight an old man with many age spots and a Brooklynite-moved-to-Florida
accent declared "I'm comin' in", sat in the Russian's seat, asked if I wanted his wife's seat because the video
thing didn't work, asked the flight attendants to tell his wife that they were changing seats (the flight
attendants smiled and did nothing). And during the dinner, he nudged me several times and pointed to food
on his plate to ask me if I wanted it. You know, if I ever write a book on airline passenger etiquette, I think
there will be a large section in the very first chapter with advice such as "Don't Nudge the Person in the
Seat Next To You", "Don't Offer Food You Don't Want to Other Passengers" and "Ask Before Taking An
Empty Seat". After the detritus from the meals got collected, the guy's wife came down, he announced that
they were changing seats, and I was glad to see that his wife had a suppressed British accent. And said,
"Don't shout. Take your headphones off." She then went back to her proper seat. Half an hour later, so did
age spot guy. And I got my leg room back.
So the flight was an hour late, but the landing in Boston was smooth, the customs was fast, and my bag was
right there after I did the passport control. I got my limo, and Christy was still in the house, where we
shared some beers and spoke of the big rains here that I missed and the Mediterranean climate that she
missed. And I methodically had small portions of all the food I missed: hot sauce (by the spoonful), dill
pickles, Cajun olives, pepperoncinis. Meanwhile, I have this cold, and have coughed the night away a few
times. Hate it when that happens.
The day after I got back, Beff got back from Maine with the cats, where they had been for about six or
seven weeks. The cats are VERY happy to be back, and VERY needy. We took Christy out to dinner the
other night, and for once the cats were not so skittish about a stranger. And now they are learning about the
outdoors again.
So THIS weekend Beff and I drive a rental car to her 25th Oberlin reunion. If that's not fun, what is?
Geoffy is here for a BMOP thing, and Christy will be back in her accustomed hammock. And finally it is
forecast to warm up. 'cause this Typing With Really Cold Fingers is just weird. And then ... two pieces to
write this summer.
For the benefit of the other Bogliasco fellows, I put hundreds of pictures online, which I invite you, dear
reader, to view. Click on the "Pix" link up to the left for many of those, and the "Genoa Pix" for file lists.
You may also see three QuickTime movies: Bastabasta is a silliness at lunch movie, while Cimaview is a
panorama from our very high climb, and Trainbridge that movie of a train on the bridge in the town of
Bogliasco. The green links are to PDFs of the four movements of my concerto, in case you are interested.
The first two pictures below were taken from my room: the town of Bogliasco and Portofino coast very
early in the morning; and the full moon over the Mediterranean. The small pics are of most of the group at
dinner (L to R William's hands, Gurchuran, Paul, Maureen, Michael, Daniele, Cristina), and then of the
tired stone lions in front of the main building set in relief to one of the dogs that lives on the grounds.

MAY 31. Breakfast this morning was meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner last night was grilled chicken and steamed asparagus. Lunch was pizza at Village Pizzeria

with an onion rings chaser. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 41.2 and 86.4. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS C'est la Vie"by Robbie Nevil. LARGE EXPENSES this
last week include rental car (Mitsubishi Galant: in the future, just say no), amount unknown, and toner
cartridge/Norton AntiVirus 10/DiskWarrior from J&R, $274. Ant traps at CVS, $15. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The first piece I ever wrote -- February, 1974 during vacation, a 7-minute
monstrosity for concert band -- quite obviously copped all the groovy licks in the band music I played at
All-State and All-New England. My particular favorite was a trumpet melody accompanied by parallel
sharp-9 chords. Terry Colburn was the lone person to identify from what piece I had stolen. There was also
a big tutti near the end that had a pair of parallel 12-note chords in the middle of it. And "pair of parallel" is
a fun turn of phrase. Unless you're stupid. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES
IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Mitsubishi/Avis (boy, we could have used cruise control) and the Feve
(atrocious service). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is J&R Music
(incredibly fast service). THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Who invented the word "tendentious"?
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: climp. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include reading about
the Democrats' "lack of ideas" and various televised renditions of Taps. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Santa Barbara pepperoncinis, olives of various kinds, hamburger dills. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK Oberlin has a Frank Lloyd Wright house. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10:
1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Lexicon, this page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0.
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 9, dagnabbit. DAVY'S BAROMETER
FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 56 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD
BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: elephants that fit in the palm of your hand. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED
FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Peso I. Fainthearted. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,486. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.98,
$2.98, $2.73, $2.67, $2.98 and $2.94. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE pipistrello in uscita dal inferno, the magnetic stripe on the
inside of a DVD package, tweezers, any ant caught in an ant trap.
The preceding week was dominated in no small part by pretty nasty summer colds we both got. Mine
started my last day in Italy, and as I type this, it hangs on tenaciously. Beff's is about four days behind mine,
and she has asked about the progress of mine because of that. this cold is characterized by consistent
coughing, occasional sneezing and running nose, and especially lengthy coughing jags at night that just
won't quit. Mine is substantially better than it was four days ago, but the coughing won't quit -- though it is
considerably less frequent. Menthol throat drops and the requisite smelliness have become de rigeur.
But around all the coldiness (thank you Stephen Colbert) was a big trip over the big Memorial Day
weekend, and preceding all of that was a guest turn by our favorite guest, His Geoffiness. His Geoffiness
was here for an Antheil-Gershwin turn with BMOP, and he copped a little hammock time in his down time.
Infatto, he was here when we left for Oberlin on Friday. Meanwhile, Christy was back for another star turn
as catsitter, and she did an enormously good deed: she shortened the outtake pipe for the washing machine.
I had tried to do that months ago -- the washing machine tells you, only once you get it home, that the
outtake pipe should be no more than 3 feet off the ground, and ours was about 6, and we can't control that -but my hacksaw skills leave much to be desired. Leave it to a specialist in kinetic sculpture to save the day
(it's now about 5-1/4 feet). The washing machine also has tended to move around the palette when spinning
a large load, occasionally moving far enough to unplug itself -- and Christy found a sweet spot (her word,
and ours, too) wherein it no longer migrates. Now that is awesome.
So besides a little lawnmowing and hammock time, and MANY, MANY letters written for composers
applying for Fromm Foundation commissions (sigh), my activities consisted of more teeny revisions to my
piece, fretting about having to restart my piano quintet, playing with tunes in iTunes, and getting to know
"Mr. Trampoline Man". The last of that is the title of the second of my solo hand drum pieces. Michael
Lipsey, who commissioned them, e-mailed an mp3 and sent a CD of a home recording of that piece. Dear
reader, you yourself may hear the live performance by clicking on the yellow "Trampoline Man" link
below. It is a passacaglia, whose theme is carried by the talking drum, with variants provided by the tabla.
No, really. And since my webspace ran out of room, I deleted all my Bogliasco pictures. So now you'll have
to rely on your memory.

So on Friday very early in the morning we set off for Oberlin for Beff's 25th reunion. The drive there was
about 660 miles, and it was mostly uneventful -- despite being at the beginning of Memorial Day weekend.
Leave it up to Oberlin to start a reunion on what we heard on the radio was the "third heaviest travel day of
the year". The drive there was mostly uneventful, save about four hours through various heaviness of rain -from hardly to really, really -- and an infuriating 40-minute delay southeast of Cleveland due to two lanes
being blocked by a traffic accident. How dare they demolish their car on the day I'm driving through! The
scenery for the first hour and a half past Albany was pretty nice, as it follows the old Erie Canal, and the
somewhat depressed industrial cities were actually cool to look at -- even the large Beech Nut factory
seemed quaintly nostalgic (I used to chew Beech Nut gum that was striped). Oh, and gas is way cheaper in
Ohio than it is here.
Oberlin itself is a college town, flat, pretty, and full of things to do that seem interesting as long as you
know you don't have to live there. We searched a long time for a parking spot before going to Reunion
Central, where we found out that we were assigned a room in a dorm that Beff always wanted to live in, but
didn't get the luck of the draw. For you see, this dorm has a turret room. We didn't get the turret, but we did
get to relive dorm chic -- single beds on opposite sides of the room, a walk-in closet half the size of the
room, and modular desks and dressers. Not to mention, undressing in front of naked men in the bathroom in
the morning. It was at the end of a hallway, which made it seemingly fairly quiet. A buffet of usual buffet
suspects was available to us in the common room, so we did what we could with it -- why, some of it was
almost food-like. Beff reconnected with several people from her dorm and external apartment days, and it
became somewhat of a clique. Indeed, if there is anything to describe our corner of the reunion, it is
Chickfest. Plenty of graduates from the college came to the reunion, but Beff was one of a very few
graduates of the Con (conservatory) to come. One of the few non-chicks encountered was the husband of
Teresa McCollough, a noted Davy interpreter, but Teresa herself was not there. In fact, this thing about the
spouse coming along with the reunioner was not too common. The men's room was on our floor, and ladies
rooms on other floors. Ah, the long walk to the bathroom sure brought back memories -- very, very dim
ones.
After the quasi-food dinner, I spent some time napping and coughing, while Beff discovered the wireless
and did some e-mail. Later I did e-mail, too, and we retired to bed and coughed a lot. On Saturday there
was a bit of coffee and not-quite-edible pastry products available, so we drank and not-quite-ate. There
were plenty of walks around exactly the same parts of Oberlin, as well as nostalgia trips to various
buildings where classes were given, now-retired or dead professors had offices, and long-gone hangouts.
For lunch, the 25th reunion class was given what amounted to an appetizer lunch at the President's house
along with white wine that made your nose crinkle, your eyebrows arch, and your eyes water. What had
become The Group sat at one circular table, and sat through an "umm" and "uhh" filled narrative from the
President about how Oberlin has grown since 1981, including the largest PV array in Ohio (nobody knew
what that was, but from context we surmised it had something to do with solar power -- yes, it means Photo
Voltaic). After lunch, Beff went with her friend Joan (who married us) to see the Frank Lloyd Wright house
in Oberlin while I napped and coughed. After more walking around, there was the "picnic" at a
superstructure also known as the skating rink. Here the group sat together again, there were Mexican,
American, and Italian buffets along with Labatts Blue (the closest thing any of us had to a real beer all
weekend), and there I accumulated one more superfluous apostrophe. At night there was a talent show and
karaoke thing that Beff went to while I went to bed. At 2 that morning I was forced to yell at people having
a loud conversation just below our window, and given that I had nearly no voice, it was something to
behold.
In the afternoon The Group had also spent a long time at the closest thing to a hangout that Oberlin has,
called The Feve. The fries I ordered arrived an hour later, lukewarm, but at least the weather itself was quite
warm. And I delighted at being The Spouse. Since I never had to participate or react to anything in the
conversation.
On Sunday we repeated our walks of earlier, got coffee, went to the champagne lunch (two gulps of it was
all you got), which was another mondo affair, under a tent, which also was an official meeting of the
Alumni Society (as in, you others better join the group or we will speechify mercilessly). We exited before

what was certain to be The Big Fundraising Pitch, and got back on the road. Again, it was a fairly
uneventful drive, and sunny all the way. We made it as far as Batavia, where we stayed at a Quality Inn
with wi-fi and ate at an Applebees -- what a combo, since our room keys included a 10% discount voucher
at Applebees. I got the buffalo wings, duh.
Monday we left early, but late enough not to encounter severe thunderstorms happening about an hour and
a half into our drive at the time we embarked (parse THAT one), and arrived home at about 2. I marveled at
how high the grass was already (when you go on a trip you apparently presume that time stands still at your
place of residence), and continued to marvel that Shaw's was open -- where I got some staples, and
hamburger for grilling. HEY, it was Memorial Day, and it's THE RULE that you grill burgers on Memorial
Day. It's also THE RULE that as the Fromm deadline approaches, more and more plaintive e-mails
accumulate asking for letters. Which is what I did.
Yesterday, John Aylward and his sister Claire visited for exercise, and we got them out onto the Assabet in a
canoe. I could tell by both of their forms that they had never done this before -- it was more like they were
stirring the water so that sugar cubes would dissolve than trying to get the canoe to move. Indeed, I was
able to saunter on the bike path at a greater clip than that of the canoe. But they eventually figured it out,
John did excellent steering, and the canoe made a nice zigzag a ways down the Assabet and back. Lunch
downtown was followed by Beff and I returning the rental car and walking home. And me checking my email and getting more plaintive Fromm requests.
Today Beff has embarked toward Burlington for a day spent with her father. She back tomorrow. I also
finished reading Dewek's dissertation, and he is just about ready to become Doctow Dewek. Meanwhile, I
have to return to the piano quintet and make the sucker work. And (sigh) mow all of the lawns, as soon as
the cloud cover burns off. And cough a bit. In the coming week, Mary Fukushima and Michael Kirkendoll
(who call themselves, modestly, the Fukushima-Kirkendoll Duo) give a recital in Weill Hall at Carnegie
Hall, including my own travesty FIRECAT. This is on June 4. I know it's going to be good because both of
them contacted me and said they were having "fun" -- in stark contrast to the "torment" that usually comes
with people doing this piece. And since you're in town (I can't be), stay another day and hear Ross's cello
concerto with Sequitur on the 5th, at Merkin Hall. It's going to blow all the other pieces away.
All the pictures today come from the Oberlin trip. Starting with Joan and each of us, at various times. Then
there is part of The Group readying for the group photo, the context of the picnic, a tethered horse in the
town green, my superfluous apostrophe, a blossom in the park, and the sign for the Men's Room that
displays just how lefty Oberlin is.

JUNE 12. Breakfast this morning was rice sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
Dinner last night was extremely thin-crusted pizza and salad. Lunch was Hebrew National 97% fat free hot
dogs. Hebrew National has not paid a promotional fee to be mentioned in this update. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 49.6 and 88.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I
TYPE THIS "We'll Be Together Tonight" by Sting -- occasioned by a truck horn that was the same pitches
as one of the thirds of the opening lick.. LARGE EXPENSES this last two weeks include parking in NYC
$101 including tip, various dinners and lunches in NYC costing between $45 and $60, various stationery
items at a hip store on 20th Street $33 (including two pocket-size music manuscript notebooks), Garmin
320c GPS thingie, $333 at amazon, 1 GB memory card for same at Staples $51, new cassette player for
Beff's car $135 including installation, gas in Connecticut $41, books and videos at amazon $72, and various
other stuff not precisely recalled. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My long-awaited
dissertation defense at Princeton came in the middle of my Rome Prize year. After so many years of hitting
brick walls with that thing, and all the time it took for the readers to get to it, the event itself was
completely anticlimactic. A two-hour block was saved for the defense, which started at 5. Lee Blasius sat
in, as Princeton defenses are public, and Paul Lansky (first reader), Scott Burnham (second reader), Steve
Mackey, Peter Westergaaaaaaaaard, and Paul Koonce represented the faculty. The defense began with Peter
W. huffing and puffing as he entered, announcing "this has to be done with by 6:15 because I have to leave

then." Sweeeeeeet. I played the recording of my dissertation piece (Cerberus) and Paul Koonce went on and
on and on and on and on and on and on and on about how things that occasionally sounded like jazz chords
in the piece were "ironic perturbations". Later, I was asked to summarize the paper because no one besides
the readers (hence the name) had read it. Later that night, I went out for beer with Cindy Gessele, since
Beff couldn't spare the time to come to Princeton. And then I was a doctor. COMPANIES WHO HAVE
NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are the online part of Garmin (whose "web
update" software sits there 45 minutes saying "connecting to server" and hitting "Abort" is the only way,
apparently, actually to connect to it) and SanDisk (card reader went verplunkt). COMPANIES WHO HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are amazon (got the Garmin unit to us in record time) and Inko's
Tea (found it at the Framingham Trader Joe's for $1.29, though BJ's and Shaw's don't have it any more).
THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: how much wood could a groundhog grind if a woodchuck could
grind ground? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: shulky. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF
include pieces that repeat their opening gestures immediately and exactly, anything involving Ann Coulter
or Dick Cheney, and Kathy Griffin's little dance on the promos for Queer Eye and My Life on the D List.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Santa Barbara pepperoncinis, Santa Barbara pitted cajun
olives, red tomatoes, red seedless grapes, sugar free popsicles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the fun of
Global Positioning Systems -- and how freakin' expensive the consumer units still are. THIS WEEK'S
NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is
none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0.
DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 19 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT
BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: festive hats for your cat. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED
FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Bartomeu Mcchesney. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Test dis.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,504. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.96 and
$3.15. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE a distant drum, fourteen things in a puddle, a fingerprint, intransigence.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Deal with it. According to my giftology this is the intersection of the year of the
trampoline and the year of the pony.
Today marks, as far as I can tell, Day 23 of my just-can't-shake it summer cold. While I am, in general, far
better, I still get the nighttime coughing fit, as I did this morning. Which leads, in the morning, to a voice
that makes me seem like I should audition for the voiceover part on the Men's Wearhouse commercials. As
I said today to Beff -- "everyone in the room is looking at the bride. And the bride is looking at you. Tux
rentals from $50." Three coughs and an orange juice later, I was back to my usual sexy voice, saying things
like "the coffee is ready to plunge" and "Cammy's outside."
We are just back from a weekend trip to New York City for Beff's performance on the ACA (American
Composers Alliance, NOT Atlantic Center for the Arts) American Composers Festival, where we stayed
with Hayes and did plenty of New York things during out down time -- and the most New Yorky thing of all
is to spend too much money. Which we did with great glee. But let me step back in time just a bit.
Last week on an early morning day, we went to the Toyota dealership in Acton for a 7 am appointment,
where we left it for an oil change and a "the cassette is stuck in the car player" diagnostic. While that was
happening, we went to the usual breakfast and sandwich place nearby. The oil change happened, and the
cassette was ejected, but no cassette of any kind would go back in. The dealer said that Toyota parts to
replace it might run as high as $800 (of which I presume $750 is pure profit), so we made a trip of it. We
drove to Best Buy in the Shopper's World area and got the ONLY car cassette player they carried. And
while it was being installed, we drove to BJ's for some staples, and also to Trader Joe's, nearby -- the one
that has beer and wine, unlike our local iteration. While near the car stuff, I strangely started lusting after a
little handheld GPS thing. Not that I have any real need for it -- I was sucked in by the cool coefficient of
having such a thing. So we examined what Best Buy had, which was deemed either too small ($150) or too
expensive ($600). After going to Trader Joe's, we looked into the adacent Staples to see what GPS they had,
and it was both too small and too expensive. Meanwhile, using my Red Skelton voice, I put an end to Beff's
constant queries about what I wanted for my birthday by saying "I want a GPS thing. Good night, and God
bless."

When we got home and installed the groceries in the correct places, I researched GPS stuff on the internet,
and found that Magellan and Garmin were the two Big Players in that arena, and after lots of hemming and
hawing, settled on the Garmin 320. I read that it took an SD card for the map data, so I also got a gig SD
card from Staples (delivered for free!), and the unit itself arrived the day before we took off for New York.
Warning, though, the software for loading maps only works in Windows, and we do have the Windows
computer specifically for emergencies like this -- that, and for making CDs and DVDs, that is.
So the software was loaded, the Garmin unit connected to the USB port, and I was able to select, state-bystate, all of the east coast and Quebec and all of the midwest and south as far west as the Mississippi River
and just beyond. Any more would not have fit on the card. Loading the maps was a 45-minute affair
(preceded by a 20-minute configure-fest), and immediately -- in some rain -- I tested the unit. I had it direct
me to the Air Field Cafe at the Minuteman Airport, which it did flawlessly, after taking a little while to lock
onto the satellites. It also talked to me: in point three miles turn right. In four hun-dred feet turn right. Turn
right. And I discovered that if you took your own route, it recalculated and said "recalculating" to you. For
our drive to New York we punched in Hayes's address, and watched the fun ensue. Beff reconfigured the
unit with the "British" voice, so we felt very sophistiphistiphistphistphisticatedcatedcated.
Meantime, we discovered that the Garmin wanted us to take 95 all the way to New York, and I preferred the
Wilbur Cross to Merritt to Hutch, etc. And it kept trying to get us to exit the Parkways to get on 95. And
finally it gave up and let us do what we wanted. The next day, when we had to drive to Nyack for Beff's
rehearsal with Soooooooooooooooooooozie and Chris, it wanted us to take the GW Bridge and get on the
Palisades Parkway, but we did 87 instead, just to spite it. On the way back, I decided to yield to its whim,
and it gave us a very scenic route south of Nyack and got us on -- yes, the Palisades Parkway. Gotta admit,
it was actually faster than the route I would have taken.
And meanwhile, in New York, Hayes was a very gracious host. For our first afternoon, Beff decided that
we would do the Pierpont Morgan Library ($12 per adult), and we looked at a lot of nice stuff there -including fair first copies of pieces by Brahms, Verdi, Puccini, etc., and old illuminated manuscript pages.
Beff got me a real cool tie, and we walked back home, ate at a Mediterranean type restaurant, and went to
bed. I was tired early, alas. On Nyack day we ate at a diner in town before Beff's rehearsal, and then got to
see Chris (Oldfather)'s house -- very close to the Hudson, in fact. I knew my old friend from VCCA, Don
Iannucci, had a place close by, but I could not get permission to leave the rehearsal to try and find him.
Which is fine, since his house was a lot farther away than I thought it was. And uphill. That night Hayes
and Beff and I did Chinese at this really good place around 24th and 9th.
The day of the gig was fairly eventless, save my having to bring the camcorder and tripod to the dress
rehearsal, as we now have gotten into the habit of getting movies of our performances. Especially important
in Beff's case, since the piece is for piano, voice, and projected video with sound. This was the one where I
had to roll an orange down the dining room table, and Cammy came after it at one point, and that made it
into the piece. After the dress, the four of us (Soooooooooooooozie, Chris, Beff, me) went to a diner nearby
(the gig was at the Thalia Theater in Symphony Space). The gig itself was fine, though there was some
music that I probably could have had a full life without ever having heard -- and one piece promised some
nice tricky formal devices that had no payoff (for instance, a double fugue that simply stopped halfway
through the first entrance of the second subject). Soooooooooooooozie wanted to go out during
intermission, since Beff's piece was on the first half, and this performance marked the end of a particularly
busy performing time for her. So Chris, Soooooooooooooooooozie, Chris's sister and I meandered into a
French restaurant called Alouette and had beer called 1664. After the gig, Hayes and Geoffy and Beff
joined us, and French desserts were the order of the day. And Geoffy got a, um, watermelon martini or
something like that. Pink martinis just look funny.
Yesterday we drove back and it was amazing how deserted New York is at 8 am on a Sunday morning. It
was a nice clear drive, and there was even sun! -- for apparently the first time in about 10 days in the
Boston area. It was good to get back with our stuff and with the cats -- returning from a trip is always nice
that way. And it even warmed up a bit for the first time in a while -- which is where I start to complain
about the weather here. According to the Boston Globe, the jet stream has been stuck in a winterlike pattern

here since early May, and the 18 inches of rain or so that's fallen in that time would have been 15 feet of
snow in cold weather (a likely story -- in the winter the Gulf of Mexico wouldn't yield anywhere near as
much moisture as it does in the spring -- I mean, totally duh). The pattern breaks late this week, they say,
but meanwhile it's not been above 90 yet this year (the latest in recent memory). And right now it is 79 and
it seems very balmy.
Beff did a mini-trip to Vermont in this last few weeks, where she picked up a used Peugot bike for her to
use in Maine. We tried it out, and brought it to the bike shop in town just to be sure it was okay. And two
really funny guys run the shop, gave us the bizness, and even adjusted my bike while it was there. And that
inaugurated a few exercise bike rides -- to West Concord, Boon Lake, and West Acton for starters. Later
today I take a bike ride, but not until Maynard Door and Window gets here to (finally) vent the bathroom
fan.
Meanwhile -- Michael Lipsey sent more recordings of Snaggle movements (my hand drums piece), and I
spent some time in iMovie getting more of my Bogliasco little movies online and into my webspace for the
gentle reader's pleasure. So in that list of stuff above and to the left -- yellow is a movie, red is an mp3,
green is a PDF, and sky blue is a web address. Framer's Intent is piece for frame drum, played, I believe, on
the djembe, whereas Trampoline Man is a passacaglia for talking drum and tabla. As to the movies -- you
probably need QuickTime 7 to view them. I don't make the rules. I merely enforce them. So the grounds of
Villa Orbiana -- in which I had a bedroom, study, and veranda -- are represented, as is the inside of the
villa. Glasses and bottles is the fellows getting silly with wine glasses and bottles. Villa Pini is the main
building, where writers and scholars stay, and there are movies of the front of it, and walking into it from
the street.
The only immediate things to note coming up are The Maids coming to clean tomorrow, Beff coming back
from Maine (she went there today for a lesson, to fix the lawnmower, and who knows why else), and dinner
with the Hylas for my birthday. It is not known how soon there will be enough stuff to report for the next
update. So be patient, be patient.
Not many pictures this week. First there is the Garmin, suction-cupped to the windshield, as I departed for
Trader Joe's this morning, Soooooooozie at dinner with her cell phone, Hayes and Geoff at the French
restaurant, and Beff and Chris at dinner. So there. Chris got a mondo haircut!!!!!

JUNE 20. Breakfast this morning was Egg Beaters eggs with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner
last night was two Boca Burgers with cheese and a plate of Roma tomatoes. Lunch was a small salad and
Buffalo wings. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 52.2 and 92.3. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "The Pleasure Seekers" by The System. LARGE EXPENSES
this last two weeks include stuff at amazon, $33, stuff at CompUSA $52, stuff at BJ's, $43, and the 60,000
mile tuneup for the Corolla, $473. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When it became evident
that we'd be staying at our place in Spencer -- on Thompson Pond -- for a number of years, we bit the bullet
and bought ourselves the red canoe, which was on special at The Fair (a K-Mart type place that no longer
exists). Our first try at canoeing was on Easter Sunday, we were completely clueless how to go about it, and
on our first try -- stepping into it from a dock -- we fell in. Subsequent tries were quite successful.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are the online Apple Computer, who
sent no fewer than four e-mails detailing every step of the process of sending me a simple video cable, and
Whole Foods Market, which is next to the Framingham Trader Joe's, which I never went into before this
week, and which has great sauce for dumplings AND Bubbies pickles. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: when did product names beginning with lowercase "i" supplant product names ending with
an "x" as cool and hip? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sleen. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF
are the phrase "cut and run", little bugs that get in my face when I'm on the hammock, and ham. I made up
the last one. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: cherries, no-cook gazpacho, Cajun pitted olives,
Unsweet tea (on special at Shaw's), dumplings with special dumpling sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK

every salad dressing company now makes an "Asian ginger sesame" dressing. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT
TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a mouse and a
chipmunk. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1.
DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 39 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT
BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: massive demonstrations against the olambic. THIS
WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Davy Barrera. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM:
succinct. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,508. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$2.94. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE snake oil, garlic powder, a senior moment, seventeen bottles of hot sauce.
Came and went the birthday. Three separate, but equal, celebrations happened. There was dinner at the
Quarterdeck with Lee and Kate on the date of the birthday itself, bowling plus wings plus beer with Ken
and Hillary and Max, and lunch at the Stein with Carolyn (ka-ching!) and Big Mike (ka-ching!). Lee and
Kate came bearing gifts, including the new Stravinsky gossipfest, and a framed print of Kate's. Already
hanging in the hallway is Kate's print, but not yet read is the Stravinsky book (I'm trying out Yodaspeak
today). It was a nice meal (I did the poached salmon) though the service was inexplicably slow, and there
were discussions of Lee's impending move to Chicago. Wow.
On Saturday, while Beff was in Maine, the Trio Coolness came with their own gifts -- a little bowling
figure that made its way into the kitchen window, and a little ducky that gets way bigger over the course of
72 hours when it is submerged in what I like to call "water". There was candlepin bowling preceded by
trash talking, the bowling itself, which featured an inordinate number of gutterballs, and a strange
occurrence near the end of our first string: Saturday night glow bowling started. A smoke machine (I'm
guessing dry ice) spewed, the lights turned off in favor of neon colors on the pins, blacklights galore and
disco balls started, and unusually bad pop music spewed. We were given yellow markers for keeping score,
since they are viewable in blacklights, and we had to start writing a lot bigger. Strangely, our bowling got
better with glow bowling, and, to the best of my knowledge, I cracked 100 in candlepins for the first time in
years. It is also true that this was the first time I'd bowled in years. All of us had at least one spare, and
Hillary saved hers for the very last frame. Bowlage was followed by the Neighborhood Pizzeria in town for
wings, where the parking was strangely hard to find. While we did wings and pizza, we noted with glee that
Neighborhood Pizzeria now serves beer in bottles, so the experience was close to complete. After our
experience with near completeness, we came back to the house and did beer -- mostly Liberty Ale and Sea
Dog blueberry wheat. And Ken and Hillary finally took the olives I gave them last April. And Max got
some expensive paper.
Yesterday, the long-delayed birthday lunch with the Ka-Ching Twins happened, and of course I had wings.
I got some Curious George hats and party favors at the Dollar Store and we brought them with us. The
close to completely clueless person at the Stein greeted us with, "so, a table for dunces?" A cosmic question
here could be -- are birthday hats really dunce hats? And does growing a year older necessarily make you
stupid? And could there be a confederacy? But that's all light in the piazza. The Ka-Chings actually paid!
Meanwhile, the weather finally got summerlike, and in a big hurry. After yet another all-day rain -- the edge
of Tropical Storm Alberto -- the pattern shifted and we got a Bermuda High in charge. Finally. Air
conditioners have been essential, and my biking times have been quite early in the morning -- 7 on
Monday, for instance, 7:15 on Sunday. The grass has been growing quite fast -- the mowing I did on my
birthday already looks -- old. And there was a severe thunderstorm watch last night, but we got nothing.
When the hot began, I trotted out the old gazpacho recipe and made some. Which is good, very good.
'ceptin' Shaw's didn't have any green onions, so I had to substitute some chives. 'sokay.
Meanwhile, CF Peters informed me that they were taking a whole bunch of pieces that had been
languishing, awaiting a meeting of the editorial committee, and that meant a whole day of producing scores
and parts. Which became a crappy time for our 12-year-old printer to start screwing up. 11x17 printing was
fine for the first 100 pages or so, but the last 10 or so pages involved no fewer than 70 pages getting stuck
in accordion shapes inside, and I'm sure my neighbors could hear me uttering the upper-case letters on the

keyboard, plus a few spirals and other abstract shapes. It got bad enough that I started looking for the next
printer -- hey, the HP 4MV has lasted 12 years, and that's amazing -- but the next generation is going to cost
us $2139. No matter who sells this printer, it goes for $2139. So perhaps before the end of the summer,
when I am back on full pay...
I made several trips to Trader Joes in Framingham, and I've usually noticed that there is a Whole Foods
across the little street from it. After viewing a story on 60 Minutes about Whole Foods, I decided to give it
a look, and it's kind of neat. They have a few varieties of things that it's hard to find at the more plebian
places -- for instance Bubbies Pickles -- and some nice Asian stuff that I haven't seen anywhere else
(probably because I haven't looked). So it looks like TJ's and Whole Foods may become something of a 1-2
punch in the future. Whatever that means. Whole Foods had a special on hothouse tomatoes, but they didn't
look so hot. Or so house, for that matter.
Another highlight of my birthday is that Maynard Door and Window finally came over to vent the fan that
is in the bathroom. The electricians installed the fan and a long generic piece of venting tube (not unlike the
tube coming out of the clothes dryer) emptying into the vastness of the attic, and we contracted MD&W
actually to vent it, as in, to the outdoors. So they sent French Accent Guy and an assistant to do it, and they
made a bunch of noise, drilled through the south-facing attic window, and left a vent on the outdoors that
looks like a drive-in movie speaker. See photo below. So now our long national nightmare is over.
This morning quite early, Beff and I did the Boon Lake ride, which was as eventless as possible and the
weather for it gorgeous. Until the turnaround point, where I made my usual sharp turn, got tricked by a
bunch of gravel, and didn't quite make it around the turn. As in, my bike went sideways, and I caught
myself on the pavement. To only a small scratch on my right shin and a slight bit of roughness on my right
hand. Beff said she saw it all in a super-slo-mo, and I wondered how you make that happen in real life. The
bike shifted from gear 35 (mod 7) to gear 25 (mod 7) during this process, and getting it back to my
preferred gear was no small task.
Very little picture-taking happened this week, despite its eventfulness. My Lee & Kate pictures somehow
didn't get copied to my computer, and no camera came with me to any of the other birthday events. So,
lemme splain what we got here. The fatigue-color links to the left are little cat movies. The yellow ones are
movies from Bogliasco, making their encore. The red links are mp3s of two of my solo hand drum pieces.
And the blue links are links to web pages.
Meanwhile, the pictures. First is our scoresheet from bowling. See if you can tell where we were when the
glow bowling started. Next is the iced coffee we had after the bike ride this morning, and the new vent for
the bathroom fan (it's the little white thing on the window). And finally, the little chick as viewed on
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday mornings.

JUNE 28. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% cheese. Dinner last night was two chicken
sandwiches that I grilled myself, and salad. Lunch was a spiced Julius Chicken sandwich from the South
Street Market, eaten on a bench in front of Brandeis Admissions, with Carolyn "Ka-Ching" Davies and
Beff. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 59.2 and 88.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Scatter" by me (#2 of Three Encores, about which BMI inquired...) LARGE
EXPENSES this last two weeks include Finale upgrade $107 including shipping, percussion instruments
from Musician's Friend $107 including shipping, various at K-Mart $117, bindings $14, "staples" at Shaws
$117 after the 5% discount, gourmet stuff at Duck Soup, $52. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: When it became evident that we'd be staying at our place in Spencer -- on Thompson
Pond -- for a number of years, we bit the bullet and bought ourselves the red canoe, which was on special at
The Fair (a K-Mart type place that no longer exists). Our first try at canoeing was on Easter Sunday, we
were completely clueless how to go about it, and on our first try -- stepping into it from a dock -- we fell in.
Subsequent tries were quite successful. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are

Whole Foods Market (love that dumpling dipping sauce). THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: how
soon before students submit their homework with "signing statements", grudgingly agreeing to do the work
but complaining that the method is wrong? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: guliscia. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF are quotes from "the blogosphere" -- both the left and the right -- and humidity.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: pitted Cajun olives, pepperoncinis, cherries. DISCOVERY
OF THE WEEK the hammock -- well, a rediscovery, actually. I hadn't been on it for quite some time. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7.5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Compositions, Lexicon,
Recordings, This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED
BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are at least one chipmunk and at least one mouse.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 23 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: massive demonstrations against the olambic. THIS
WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Davy Barrera. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM:
succinct. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,517. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$2.99. Beff reports $2.76 in Vermont and $2.74 in Maine. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a festering piece of dung, a red rose
for a blue lady, a fallen branch, sixteen eroded pebbles from the bottom of a stream.
Many clusters of events this last week, keeping us busy, off balance, and, frankly, beautiful. I made that last
one up. Beff spent the weekend in Vermont and is on her way to Maine as I type this -- apparently for the
sole purpose of picking up a repaired lawnmower (bent crankshaft, $120) -- and I spent plenty of time on
the road just trying to find a printer that can bind an 11x17 score. But let me time travel a little bit here
(which I now know is possible, though my salary is not high enough to purchase fuel for the trip).
Beff and I had decided to try and get together with friends we don't get to see that often before I make my
pilgrimage to Yaddo. But only one of the three was available before then. David Sanford is out of town for
a relative's wedding, and the Droolie family are entertaining the in-laws. The one possible meal was had
with my colleague Palle Yourgrau, at Chang Sho in Cambridge. Chang Sho is one of our preferred places to
go, especially since there is no good Chinese around here (Thai, Indian, Korean, definitely yes), and as
usual the cold sesame noodles and hot and sour soup went down easily. The other things we got were nice,
too. And Palle grew up listening intensely to classical music, and his knowledge of the music -- and which
recordings are preferred -- is quite impressive. He teaches philosophy at Brandeis, and we exchanged
"research" -- we gave him commercial CDs, he gave us a copy of his "general audience" book about
Goedel and Einstein. So far, no indication that he has listened to the CDs, but I spent almost all of a rainy
Friday reading the book and writing to him about it (my comment that "I have spent reading your book the
amount of time it would take for you to listen to the CDs we gave you three and a half times" went
unresponded). It was a little dense because the philosophy and physics are pretty complicated, but I think I
got it. It turns out time doesn't exist.
There had been an ulterior motive to having dinner with Palle. He was recently given a named Chair at
Brandeis, and on a rainy day when I was in Bogliasco, he gave the "xxxx Chair" lecture to celebrate his
new position. What he didn't know, and what I just found out by virtue of him telling me, was that
professors who get named or endowed chairs at Brandeis never gave public lectures before -- this was the
first. I wanted to find out from him what it was customary to say at such an occasion, since I have to give
that talk for the Naumburg Chair on September 24 (if memory serves...). As it turns out, what is customary
is 100% exactly what he did (an intellectual autobiography). And I have to do it, too, and will probably start
with how I like the awards that don't come with public speeches to give. I also found out that all the
important mucky-mucks were there, and the event was catered, and the food was expensive. So I have
something to which to look forward. Mine is in the Faculty Lounge, and will involve playing the
performance movie of MARTLER. So there.
An interesting surprise at the restaurant was that one of this space's most loyal readers (Rebecca -- who
usually retains her anonymity, but not this time) was at dinner at Chang Sho at the same time, along with
Charlotte -- the "This Be The Song" duo from Theory 2 -- who had graduated from Brandeis last year, and
took composition lessons with me during the nadir of the Chairman experience. So it was old home week.
Rebecca now has a job that has "administrator" in the title, and I told her to make sure not to live up to

WAFA in Davy's Lexicon. And, by the way, she sang a bunch o' Beffsongs in recital last month, and more
than once. So there. Charlotte, meanwhile, lives in Minnesota.
Thursday's big event was Derek's dissertation defense, scheduled perfectly so that it could be followed
immediately by Dinner Paid For By Someone Else. The entire composition faculty -- until July 1 when YuHui is officially our colleague -- was there, and the outside reader was John Melby. Which made me the
only unbearded one in the room. But I didn't complain. Or notice, for that matter. Derek's paper was a good
one, and the composition rather good, too, so there wasn't much about which to argue. I asked a cosmic
question about how Tigers talked about 12-tone pieces being "about the properties of the set, but the
question didn't have legs. Nor did it know how to use them. As usual, the defense was a mere upbeat to the
main event: dinner at a new place on Moody Street -- yet another Asian restaurant, this one MalaysianJapanese, called Ponzu. Most of the dishes are fish dishes (say that five times fast), so I got chicken. Which
was marvelous. Kung Pao Chicken always tastes better when someone else pays.
One night last week, Beff and I went onto the sun porch to relax and to watch the shadows from the candle
make, um, shadows. I stretched out on the futon couch -- formerly in the sun porch in Bangor -- and noted a
little bit of a smell of putridness. Which increased toward where my head went. We could find no specific
thing causing the smell, so the next morning Beff got out the cleaning fluid and the paper towels and started
scrubbing the walls and windows, presuming that the record rainfall (more about that later) was causing
some mold to form on this part of the house that's been exposed to the elements. After 10 minutes or so of
scrubbage, she noticed that a cat toy in with the cat toys wasn't actually a cat toy -- it was an actual dead
mouse. Hence the increase in odor on the head end of the couch. I was charged with disposing of the mouse
in the woods (such as they are), and we remarked that perhaps we should think about NOT leaving the
screen in the living room open so that the cats could go in and out at will. A resolution whose inaction
would eventually bite us in the butt. Nonetheless, the porch is now pretty clean, or at least the walls are.
And the cow that Sooooozie gave us is still there, if rusted.
My stamina for our programmed bike rides has been increasing, and I have made it up to the secondlongest one -- what we call the Other Gropius House ride. Soon I would hope we would do The Airport
Ride, which is nearly 15 miles. That one has strenuity written all over it by virtue of the 2 big uphill
stretches. But on the one non-juicy day of the last week, we did an even longer ride, which we have only
done twice, ever. We strapped the bikes onto the back of the Camry, drove to downtown Ayer, used the
port-a-potty at the head of the bike trail, and did an actual rail trail -- the Nashua River Rail Trail. Since it
IS a rail trail, there are nearly no hills or significant curves, though there are a few nice views (Beff kept
remarking "The Minuteman Trail has BETTER views"). We rode as far as downtown Pepperell, which is
about 9 miles -- making the round trip 18 miles, and our butts felt it. Any new buttstix I may have gotten
last week are apparently in for the long haul. Our reward for that long bike ride was a delicious dinner
cooked by me. My Monday bikeride happened in the morning just as the rain had safely pulled to the west,
but a downpour started just as I passed the post office on my way back. So I surprisingly showed up at
Maynard Door and Window, gave Zoe the dog my usual bikeride Meaty Bone stash, and finished the trip.
And was wet.
As to dinner -- for one of them last week I decided to do Polish fries with actual potatoes (not frozen
already-diced ones), and cut myself in the left thumb -- enough to say "ow" fairly loudly and commence
bleeding in lots of places where blood doesn't belong. And since the cut is at the tip of the thumb, there was
no graceful way to band-aid it. Subsequent uses of my thumb have caused little bits of pain and more
bleeding, most noticeably in the car while I was driving on Monday -- by the time I got home my left hand
looked like a special effect.
During the weekend I decided to choose my annual addition to my little percussion instruments, and after
e-mailing with Mindy Wagner, I settled on a caxixi, a talking drum, a pair of tunable bongos, and mounted
castanets. With free shipping. It amuses me that to pronounce the first instrument you have to sound like
you're singing the beginning of "Viderunt Omnes". I always love obscure references like that. And speaking
of percussion, I have news from "Little" Mike Lipsey that he's in Asheville (I presume the one in North
Carolina) recording the first CD (of two) of hand drum pieces, including the two in red on the left. I'll let
you know when I know what he knows, which would not be a no-no. No noose is good noose is sauce for

the nander. Stop me, somebody.

As beforementioned, Beff is on her way to Maine, and at her request I bopped over to Shaw's for a
"sandwich and a refrigerated coffee-based drink" for the road (per la via, pour la rue -- this educational
interlude was brought to you by the parentheses that enclose it). The sandwich part was easy. Refrigerated
coffee drinks -- well, there are plenty of energy drinks available -- JOLT this and POW! that -- but none of
them are coffee-based. What a weird window into our culture that is. She had to settle for a Starbucks
frappuccino that had resided five minutes in the freezer.
Another bout of serious rain has been around the east coast, and for once New England didn't get the brunt
of it. DC got socked pretty bad by a stalled weather front with tropical flow, shutting down even the IRS
due to flooding. Up here we got consistent rain interrupted by occasional amazing wind-less downpours,
and I took the opportunity to go to K-Mart to renew the stash of kitty treats -- which they sell for half of
what Shaw's charges. While there I picked up the #1's of Destiny's Child (boy are you not ready for this
jelly) and the Beach Boys 30 tracks called Endless Summer (boy do I feel old) and a whole MESS of DVD
cases -- the skinny types that Beff prefers. I also got orange juice glasses, because I am that guy. The guy
that gets orange juice glasses. I particularly enjoyed how, at checkout, the checker robotically gave me his
required and ungrammatic programmed spiel: "will you put that on your Sears credit card today and save
30 dollars if you enroll now?" Meanwhile, the local tv stations have been letting us know that, "since record
keeping began in 1872", this May and June have been the rainiest consecutive months ever. "The previous
record was 1955, and that was with two hurricanes passing through". Take that and the IRS closing due to
flooding and W's remark this week that global warming might not be real. Hee hee, funny.
Another big event of the weekend was cajoling my sick printer to print my piano concerto onto 11x17
pages, and on Friday it actually did 79 pages before it started making every page into an accordion-fold fan.
So I turned it off. On Saturday I returned to the problem, and with much cajoling (Like Sylvia Cajoli on
PBS, only not really), out came another 30 pages without significant problems. Given that I had to print
128, that made the last 10 pages into pretty much hit or miss -- mostly miss. I mused in an e-mail that when
the new printer comes at the end of the summer, how will I make those fans? So on Saturday morning I
braved the rain, put the originals in a garbage bag, brought a whole bunch of expensive 60-weight paper
that I copped from Yehudi, and made two beautiful double-sided copies. Leaving the binding part of the
operation to the business week.
Beff's big thing this week is making a demo recording of parts of her opera, using hired guns. I mean,
performers. She's using Slosberg Hall, and last night was the rehearsal, tomorrow night the actual
recording. We went into Brandeis to scope out the place and make sure she knew what was what, and what
key opened what, and we timed it so that we could do lunch with Ms. Ka-Ching herself, Carolyn. And we
did, Oscar, we did. Meanwhile, as Beff was on her way back, Mr. Ka-Ching, Big Mike, called to ask if we
wanted to stargaze with his bigass telescope (I have ornamented the conversation). So around 10:15 he
pulled into the driveway, and it was --- overcast. We hung out a bit on the now smell-free porch, and
suddenly I spied stars. So Big Mike brought out the 'scope which turns out to be even larger than a bazooka
-- I thought he was aiming to take out some houses or something -- and he talked about programming the
computer on the inside, and ... overcast again. So we have, literally, taken a rain check. Boy, the last time
we had guests later than 11:00 who weren't also staying overnight was -- um, never?
Much of Monday was also spent on binding. A printing press close by in West Concord seemed to advertise
that they could do hard jobs -- like 11x17 score binding -- but when I entered and presented the problem, I
got what I usually get. "What? 11x17? Oh, our machine is only 11 inches. I've never done that before. I
don't know if we can." And only at Alpha Graphics -- just outside of the center of Concord -- does that
continue with "...well, wait. Let me check the machine. (4-minute pause as he leaves the room and returns)
I figured out how to do it. I'll use two bindings and turn the pages over." Ah, yes. I know that routine so
well I can spout it in my sleep.
And this morning before our bike ride, we were standing in the master bedroom when Sunny came in
carrying a big cat toy in his mouth. Which turned out to be a chipmunk. That was still alive. And (duh)
bleeding. After some real excitement -- following the chipmunk under the fax machine, the stereo, onto the

porch, and trying to let it know that the opened door was its freedom -- we finally got it outside. And the
cats officially LOST their open-window privileges. What confused me was that when Sunny drops the
chipmunk, instead of running straight away, it always jumps around in a circle, THEN tries to run away. Is
this how the tango originated?
Beff is really, really, really ready to see The Devil Wears Prada. Hey, we were even excited that Maureen
Dowd writes about it, albeit lukewarmly, in the NY Times today. We have the movie trailer on both our
main computers and Beff has watched it several times (I got points for knowing that the assistant character
had been The Princess Diaries person). We are resolved to see the Friday matinee, on the day it is released.
What do I get out of it? Buffalo wings, of course. Big Ka-Ching Mike says he will go with us, once we
know where it is playing. And meanwhile, on Saturday, which looks like the first non-juicy day in a while,
we have plans for recreation (bikey and canoey stuff with both Ka-Ching Twins), and to that end, I got
some cookout type food for that day. Nummies.
Actually, now that I think of it, Thursday was a pretty non-juicy day -- or I think it was Thursday. Beff had
read in the Globe about a small family operation in Wellesley that makes small batches of pickles and
relishes by hand, and local gourmet stores that sell their products, etcetera. So I accessed their webpage and
found that "Duck Soup" on Boston Post Road in Wayland sold the garlic pickles, among other products. So
we let the Garmin navigate us there, and we encountered a colonial styl little mallette with coffee shop,
dress shop, sushi bar, etc., and we tried to calculate just how many times more than what we are making
now we would have to make to live in that neighborhood, which is, by the way, gorgeous. Answer: slightly
more than two. Meanwhile, I got the special pickles, which went for more than $9 per jar, as well as some
grilling utensils, some other sauces, and a magnetized rubber pen. It turns out the pickles are pretty
spectacular, the closest thing I've had to Smaks. Smaks are $1.79 for twice as many pickles, but that point is
moot when the only place that sells them in the area goes out of bidness. I am thinking I will go back to
Duck Soup for more of the pickles. So there.
And a Vanity Google giving unusual parameters turned up an interesting citation: in a psychology journal, a
writer notes that he has a painting in his living room entitled "Self-Portrait As David Rakowski" by the
painter Max Gimblett, and he wondered about what notion of self would allow this kind of painting, or
something far more eloquent. I had been at Bellagio with Max Gimblett and hadn't known he had taken my
name in vain on a painting, so I was surprised. It turns out the author was at Bellagio with me 'n' Beff for a
few days before we left, so our memory was faulty. So now I have a really weird "citation" to report on my
next Activities Report. Zonky.
The roster of movies and mp3s in the left column is as it was last week. I'm surprised not to have gotten
any "that was really weird" e-mails about the Bastabasta movie, but you do need QuickTime 7 to watch it.
Cammy has taken to a cute sleeping position just outside the computer room, which I captured from three
angles. Then we see the cats' heads sticking out the window in the nostalgic times before they lost their
window privileges. Then we see a cute night shot from last night of Ka-Ching Mike's telescope set up in the
back yard and pointing at massed clouds (in this light it looks like the evil spawn of Darth Vader and
C3PO). The last two pictures I discovered in the attic while trying (unsuccessfully) to find our Bellagio
pictures -- they were both on our fridge in Spencer. First it's me in 1988 in Romsey, England (the people on
the street have not assembled to see me hold a balloon -- they were watching a parade (not seen in
photograph)), and then it's Beff and her mom (as Drip looks on) near Beff's apartment in Cambridge, circa
1986.

JULY 3. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% cheese and Trader Joe's potato pancakes.
Lunch today was Trader Joe's shrimp tempura. Dinner last night was stir fry chicken with spicy Szechuan
sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 68.2 and 87.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Angels from the Realms of Glory", but I have no idea why. LARGE
EXPENSES this last week include a new lawnmower, $199 including tax. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: I am thinking I was 8, or 9, or 10, or 11 when the family took a train from St. Albans to
Springfield, Mass., where my father grew up and where his father still lived. We stayed at my grandfather's
house -- which of course had that OLD PEOPLE smell -- and my sister and I had the bedroom in the attic.

My grandfather had emigrated from Warsaw in 1918 after (I was told) killing someone in an argument in a
poker game (I usually bring this story out when I am asked to play poker and don't want to). His English
was rudimentary at best. I remember looking all around the BIG CITY of Springfield for esoteric cool Hot
Wheels accessories that we couldn't find in St. A or Burlington, especially some sort of revving thing that
had two rubber wheels spinning inside that accelerated your car out the other side. Very high tech. I wanted
to send some postcards to friends, and explained to my grandfather what it was I wanted. Later in the day
he gave me -- a birthday card. We had to say thanks politely, but we cracked up over what it said on the
inside: "Hip hip hooray/Oh happy day/It's time for celebrations./A special rhyme/That says it's time/To say
CONGRATULATIONS". ANOTHER POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE I used to make ends
meet when I was an undergrad by doing work-study security. Basically I sat at a chair in front of the
elevators of the dorm and kept strangers from coming into it. One evening, the PR types decided to install a
Coming Events little bulletin board right in back of where I sat. Bad, bad idea. Occasionally we would pry
it open and rearrange all of the letters. I remember one coming events that eventually read: MONDAY
FEATS OF LUNATICS NO WALLS. WEDNESDAY ARFO LIMERICK EAR BLIMPS. --- you do what
you can with the available letters. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY THIS WEEK is Briggs and Stratton. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY is Musician's Friend. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: if it's only the female mosquito that
bites for blood, what do male mosquitoes eat? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flieskia. THINGS I
HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the smell of freshly cut grass and insincere people who take themselves
too seriously. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: shishkebab items, the usual complement of
olives, Root Cellar pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK lots of ailunthuses for the pullin'. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Compositions, This page.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS
LAST WEEK is nothing, except maybe a little strees on a screen by Cammy. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE
FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 33 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: orchestra pieces that don't go BOOM. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER
NAME IN A SPAM: severally asubject. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Gospel namedlest curious. PHOTOS
IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,521. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.97. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE
cotton briefs, a textured argument, heated tweezers, a pile of glacial rocks rearranged to spell "SPURMF".
Last week's update was such a hit that part of it is being replayed, in a different color, below this week's
update. At least one of the Ka-Chings noticed that I had failed to update my pointless nostalgic
reminiscence, and to that end, I have related two of them this week.
This has also been a shortened week not exactly devoid of activity, but certainly devoid of a lot of
meaningful activity worth reading about, so there is not much to report. And there certainly are not a lot of
new and interesting pictures (as you will see, dear reader). The main reason for posting today is that I want
to enjoy the 4th devoid of posting activity, and that I go to Yaddo on the 5th, early in the morning. So here
is the customary caveat:
Don't expect another update until after my seventeenth wedding anniversary. Which is August 11, and we
are expecting a LOT of gifts. I mean, you know, truckloads. That is the day I return. For those of you
playing along at home, Beff will be getting back from Vermont, where she does the Vermont Youth
Orchestra Camp, shortly thereafter, and on the 14th she does jury duty.
So it has been another lazy week (I am calling the five days a "week" because it has fewer letters AND
syllables than "five days", not to mention, no spaces) devoid of useful activity, but certainly not devoid of
fun activity. The funnest of all was half a day with the Ka-Ching twins here in Maynard, and also in Stow,
on a day with much to report. And that day was Saturday.
So on Saturday Beff and I decided to do the "Firefighters Academy" bike ride, which essentially becomes a
big circle around the wildlife preserve, brushes by Boon Lake, passes us by a Maynard water supply, and
brings us on a long stretch of the Assabet railroad. Almost exactly halfway through the trip --- meaning at
the point most distant from home --- we apparently went over some glass, and I got a flat on my rear tire.

This was exciting for us, because it meant Beff had to truck on home, get the car and the bike rack, and
figure out how to get to where I was going to be by the time she got to where I was going to be. So I
watched Beff ride professionally into the distance while I walked my bike maybe a mile and a half -- all the
while hearing the subtle scree-ock scree-ock scree-ock of the flat tire rubbing against the frame. When I got
to the Assabet Bridge on what we now know to be Boon Road, I kickstanded the bike, watered some
weeds, and sat for maybe 15 or 20 minutes. And Beff saved the day -- the most important part being saving
me from making more small talk with the recreational crowd already in the area. We brought the bike to
Ray & Son's for a repair, and they directed us to pick it up at 4.
So the Ka-Chings were slated to arrive at "2ish", meaning in Big Mike's case 2:25 and Carolyn's case 2:50.
And after Carolyn moved the hammock into a more fetal position with respect to the position of the
Adirondack chairs, we up and packed the canoe onto the Corolla, drove to the river, and got Carolyn and
Big Mike off into the water. Big Mike was in front, Carolyn was in back, steering. Beff and I followed them
along the river snapping photos until the river veered away from the path (and we got tired of slapping at
mosquitoes), and we walked back and waited for them to return. And waited. And waited. Turns out they
went a long way (Carolyn said they went far because of the motoring power of "Hercules" in the front), and
I had to get to Ray's to get my bike back. So through a complicated set of exchanges, etc., I got to Ray's,
Beff drove back, I came back in the CAMRY, and we took two cars back. And that was just the beginning
of all the fun.
For you see, we had all this food. I started off barbecuing some marinated eggplant and invited them to
come out in 8 minutes to view the big fire of dripping olive oil on the grill. When they did come out, they
witnessed me unscrewing the propane tank from the assembly -- as it had run out. So I was very lucky that
Carolyn agreed to come along for the ride to refill the propane. BECAUSE Ace Hardware was closed, and
that's where I always refill ($12). On the way back, I started formulating Plan B, which included using
other small grills around the house never used, and as we passed Cumberland Farms, Carolyn mentioned
that there was a cage marked "Blue Rhino" that sure reminded her of propane tank cages from her
experience. I said, pshaw, that's spring water, and in Massachusetts I've never seen propane tank cages. As I
turned the corner after the store, something clicked. I made the full circle, pulled into Cumberland farms,
and Carolyn was right. I traded the tank for a full one ($19.99), and we were -- literally -- cooking with gas.
In the sense that propane is a gas. So I finished the eggplants, made some shishkebabs of lots of vegetables
and a little meat, and finally did hot dogs and hamburgers. All the while while we were eating antipasto this
and antipasto that (we felt very negative) and drinking lemonade this and beer that. When all was said and
done, all had been said and done.
On Friday, however, the day BEFORE this masterpiece of a day, Beff and I went with Big Mike first for the
Buffalo wings at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson (it was a preprogrammed event, but they had other things -something with a pun on "Havarti", maybe the "Havarti Told You" sandwich) and then we went in Big
Mike's Big Mikemobile to the Solomon Pond Mall for the 1:50 showing of The Devil Wears Prada. All in
all, a very conventional movie (typical who are your real friends/backstabbing/redemption fare) with a few
memorable things in it. There was a song played during the opening montage that Beff liked, but we forgot
what it might be called, and nothing on the soundtrack as available on iTunes seemed to be what she
wanted. And we were the very last people out of the theater, since we actually waited for the song credits.
The only other tremondous activity worth reporting is that we returned yesterday to the Minuteman Trail.
Actually, I think the official name would be the Battle Road Trail of Minuteman National Park, which is a
sometimes crushed gravel, sometimes sandy thing that goes through an immense number of different
scenery scenarios, and which was longer than I had remembered. I would guess about 8 miles in each
direction, and given the number of hills and the humidity, we lost a lot of liquid that day. Which was
replenished later very nicely, thank you.
I have not supplied pictures (for something must be left to the reader's imagination), but I am happy to
report that the little percussion instruments that I ordered from Musician's Friend arrived, and they were fun
to play, and play on. Most will occupy my office, when I next actually have one. Talking drum is harder
than it looks, and bongos are both easier and harder than they seem. They came with a tuning key!

This morning Christy came to pick up her stuff because she got a studio! (See her website, lower left) But it
turned out she was short by one key in order to take the whole bunch o' hardware. So she got out what she
could into her vehicle and will come back for it later. Meanwhile, the air got drier today so I started
mowing the sticky (full of sticks) yards, and 4 minutes into my mowing, the lawnmower up and quit. The
sound it makes is of a piece of engine broken off in the engine. So Beff and I hopped right into the car,
drove to Ace Hardware, and got a new one, just like that. I don't know if you're supposed to be impressed
by the progress of lawnmower technology, but this one is much like the old one, and feels significantly
lighter, meaning an easier mow. One sacrifice: you can't adjust the height of the cut. One height fits all. So
after I got all that mowing done, we walked downtown and got very hot. Thermally hot, silly.
What's on the left is mostly old. What IS new is a movie made by Beff of the Ka-Ching Twins landing their
canoe. Everything else is as it was before. Pictures are the Ka-Chings setting off with me trying to appear
thin, Big Mike helping get the canoe onto the car, the Ka-Chings in full swing, and the pictures I took as
filler on our walk today: the same stupid sign we've seen for 5 years on our walks into town, a sign with
redundancy, the Sit'N'Bull's sign, a wrapper on the sidewalk, and our house hidden amongst the maples. See
below pictures for greatest hits of last week's update.

AUGUST 11. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% cheese and coffee. Lunch was Trader
Joe's hot and sour soup with Mongolian Fire Oil and white pepper added. Dinner last night was chicken
sandwiches and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 54.7 and 96.6. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Little Pony" by the Pointer Sisters. LARGE
EXPENSES this last six week include a coffee maker (given to Yaddo), $33, an AC-powered FM antenna
from Radio Shack $25, poetry by Chris Forhan and Sarah Manguso on amazon, $38, and cigarettes for
Julian, $31 (reimbursed). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first time at Yaddo I turned
33, and Beff came to visit (we have photographic evidence) and Alvin Singleton and Tania Leon were
among the partiers. Our little party was in the screened-in porch in the second floor of the mansion. I had
gone there with the purpose of writing an orchestra piece in 30 days for Marty Boykan's 60th birthday -the gags behind this being that it would be precisely 60 pages, and that it would be something of a
quodlibet on passages from his music. Before I got to work on that, Tom Chandler said he had a text for a
(fake) state song for Rhode Island, and that we should write it together. I wrote and copied it in about an
hour, and it became the theme of our residency. In any case, just as I finished page 60 of the score, I got a
call from Bellagio saying I'd been accepted off the waiting list, and Beff schemed to get us tickets -including fake student IDs so we could get a discount. It was at Yaddo in this residency that I started
writing fast and getting the "he's so productive and doesn't miss a deadline" reputation that I like to
cultivate. Because, you see, I am cultivated. By the way, that orchestra piece's premiere is this coming
January 20 -- about 4 months before Marty's 76th birthday. And it is being recorded. Cool. COMPANIES
WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Hannaford (poor selection of
tomatoes, some of them moldy). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is
obviously Yaddo, but also Inko's. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: if we land on the sun at night,
will it still be hot? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: suroge. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF
are Joe Lieberman, 5:00, the fan on my Powerbook coming on while it's in my lap, carrot sticks, examining
my legs for ticks, the British voice on the Garmin Roadster, and small plastic cups. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Bubbies pickles, hot sauces of various stripes, Santa Barbara olives,
Santa Barbara pepperoncini. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the details of Stravinsky's life and what a selfobsessed sumbitch he really was. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 18 (this week, as
many, we go outside the box). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Compositions, This page, Home. NUMBER
OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST
WEEK is none, though Derek has discovered where Sunny is when we can't find him -- in a personal crawl
space he seems to have created in the couch. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 7. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this
week is 60 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Yaddo for
everybody. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: laugheth, elegant.
SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Allsuch. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,650. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.06. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE any small toy animal nicknamed "Fred", a box of toothpicks

with 3 missing, a propane tank smeared with grease, sixteen old gum wrappers.
For those of you playing along at home and reading the above, it's been six weeks since I posted. And the
internet suffered no serious damage while I was gone. Today is different from all other days because it is
the only day that will be my 17th wedding anniversary. Note that this is one wife, 17 years, not 17
marriages. And what a wife that is. A gwamowous wife, as Sheila E. would put it. As I type this, the
gwamowous wife is still in Vermont, instructing high schoolers in the Vermont Yoot' Orchestra. She will be
back Sunday night and immediately prepare for jury doody -- and she has to report to some God-forsaken
location in Cambridge. Regular readers will recall that I did jury doody about 14 months ago, but in the
Framingham courthouse, very easy to get to, and I was a jury foreman. Not guilty of passing counterfeit
money (no evidence). So since Beff is in Burlington until Sunday, that means the hammock is mine, all
mine, all mine, all mine. More fun to type than it is to say.
I spent the last five and a half weeks at Yaddo, in Saratoga Springs, being embarrassingly productive. So
embarrassingly productive, in fact, that I skipped town a day early, and left my bongoes behind. My
original intent for the summer was to work on a very difficult ensemble -- fl/picc and two pianos -- in June
and write a piano quintet at Yaddo. Instead, I spent June with a beer bottle soldered to my left hand, and I
hoped for the quintet there and a start on the other piece. It turned out that I wrote both pieces with four
days to spare. So on a suggestion from Michael Kirkendoll, I wrote a 73rd piano etude (the fortissimo
etude) and STILL had a day to spare. Saratoga Springs is in the middle of tourist and racing season, and it's
not such an interesting town that I could spend a day in it. So I packed up and left yesterday instead of
today. And Maynard's cultural life is the richer for it. So is Yaddo's, as it turns out.
Before I disquisite on anything that happened at Yaddo, let me disquisite on things that happened away
from Yaddo, while I was away from it, while I was at Yaddo. It turns out that of my 38 day residency, I was
away from Yaddo 4 days -- for those doing the math, that means I did the two substantial pieces in 31
"working" days (at Yaddo there are no Shopping Days). All the more impressive, since that's about 75
"working" days of work I got done in those 31 Yaddo "working" days. Ooh, the scare quotes are scaring me
(which means they're doin' the" job"). That puts the Yaddo "working enhancement" coefficient at just over
2.4. So here are the stories of the non-working days: one day I came home to call Sunny, who had gone
missing (more in a lower paragraph); one day I drove to Lake Carmi for early morning beer with
Lieutenant Colonel Colburn; one day I drove back specifically to mow the lawns and retrieve mail; and one
day I came back to pick up a prescription and spend some time with the gwamowous wife. The latter three
are pretty dull to describe.
But the first involves Beff coming back from a weekend spent in Maine and Vermont (she's been doing a
lot of that), arriving Monday night to discover that the screen porch door had been blown open in a storm
and the cats were not inside. Cammy came in that night, but Sunny did not, and at first there seemed to be
no cause for alarm. But on Tuesday, she called and reported that Sunny was still not to be found, and we
negotiated a trip for me to do some calling of him -- since the cats are more accustomed to my voice, it
would seem. I did the three-hour drive, and we had some soup or something for lunch, and we scoured the
neighborhood looking in every possible place, to no avail. Eventually, I made a color-laser flyer that we
tacked to local telephone poles in between spritzes of thunderstorms. We did dinner at Not Your Average
Joe's in Acton (it was pretty average), and Beff wanted to call it the "Sunny Memorial Dinner".
Embarrassingly, Laurie called while we were at search, and we had to say we couldn't see her and Sam and
Georgia for kitty reasons. So I went back to Yaddo, announced that my cat was dead (Chris didn't believe
it), and had some wine. Beff, meanwhile, kept looking, and she was to leave Maynard for three weeks
beginning Friday morning, so there wasn't much time. Then voila, on Thursday afternoon, Sunny simply
walked in. Apparently he smelled funny because Cammy attacked him, and they fought for days. But we
are back at full cat strength, after having resigned ourselves to fifty percent. Beff took the cats with her to
Bangor for the time she spent doing the U of Maine summer music camp thing.
Which made the house empty for three weeks, hence my trip to mow the lawn and get the mail. Alas, the
whole cadre of housesitters I had cultivated got jobs. Time to cultivate the next generation. I am using
"cultivate" a lot today.

Regular readers -- or irregular ones, as it turns out -- know that my Yaddo residency was my fourth this
year and my 22nd of all time. So I can put it in a little perspective. My usual practice of trying to avoid
getting close to people, and especially the thief-in-the-night exit because I hate goodbyes was practiced to
the extent I could. But at MacDowell and Bogliasco, somehow that was not the case (especially Bogliasco,
since the group was so small and the food so marvelous). At Yaddo, though, I got the list of Fellows in
residence and knew at least half of them already -- notable among them Marilyn Chin, Nicky Dawidoff,
Tom Cipullo and Mark Winegardner. So it was already old home week, and bits of wackiness ensued. One
thing that always happens is that I don't get the know the people who arrive in the last week of my
residency, because hey, what's the point? Though I must say, there were plenty of Fellows I hung out with
that I did like a lot -- are you there Gina and Julian and Beena and Maggie and Andrew and Sarah and
Amanda and Judah and Tarik? And Nina?
One phenomenon was interesting, and that was that of presentations. There have been times at MacDowell
and Yaddo that so many people were eager to present their work that solid blocks of double and triple
headers lined up for ten days at a time. Now I love going to presentations, though I studiously avoid saying
anything about the work (so as to studiously avoid saying anything dumb about the work). This, however,
was a non-presenting crowd, by and large. Bill Coble and Chris Forhan did a composer-poet evening when
I got there, and Nina showed all of her films, and there were a couple of open studios by painters, but that
was about it. I admit I asked Chris to give another reading because I liked the poetry the first time around
(and possibly because I like all the free alcohol that flows at these events). Even more better were a few
dance parties -- one in West House, one in my studio, one in Gina's studio. I dressed up for the first one
(Amanda, in her wisdom, insisted on it), and made it almost to the bitter end of the Gina party (I might add
here that Jodi's dance mix was killa).
And another phenomenon of a residency, and in particular this residency, is that of the perceived passage of
time. I am astonished at how much work I got done (yes, 27 minutes of music in all, which is almost a
minute per "working" day -- gotta love those slow tempos, and hate those scare quotes) given that it seems
like the time flew right by. On the other hand, my memories, say, of hanging out with Nicky and discussing
the Red Sox and what a big mistake they made not getting someone at the trading deadline, etc. -- all
seemed like it happened impossibly long ago. Indeed, everyone who left before I did seems to have left
years before I did. Tom Cipullo left a year ago, the impossibly thin Joyce and Jean left two years ago,
Nicky left at least a year ago, Nina left a year and a half ago, and Mark Winegardner -- who finished his
book within hours of the deadline and left on August 1 -- left about eight months ago. Whereas Judah -who got there a day or two after I did -- is still a newbie.
And speaking of passages of time, there is the issue of the working day. I usually got to my studio at about
7 -- note to Yaddo, 8 may be too early for some people for breakfast, but it's too late for me -- and made my
own coffee (I bought a coffee maker at Target and left it to Yaddo) and had orange juice (chilled in the
fridge I brought in from Brandeis that I had bought for my Chairman year and was not being used and
which I also left to Yaddo). I had the Stone Tower for the first time, and that involved a walk through the
woods and a constant reminder through Yaddo publications about ticks (there were also tick removal kits
available for those that wanted them) -- and the wearing of a screen hat because those deer flies really like
my head. Sometimes I left for work before the lunches were put out, so I would have to go back and get
mine at some point. I worked straight through until about 5 or 5:15, then took my computer with me to do
wi-fi in the library. I joined the pre-dinner crowd on the back veranda, did dinner at 6:30 and did the postdinner crowd on the veranda. Not once did I go back to the studio to work after dark. So I calculate about 9
hours of work per day, or given the coefficient, about 22 hours of "real" work per day. And one day I
entered to find a mouse turd on my manuscript paper, but that is a story for another day. Actually, for no
day whatsoever.
And so there you have it. The only bummage of the whole time was that I provided a kickin' stereo for
Gina's dance party, but it turns out my speakers handle up to 100 watts, and the amplifier is a 125 watt
amplifier. One of the woofers, therefore, blew, and the more sensitive ears asked me why the sound was
tinny.
So here are my new titles: the piano quintet, 14 minutes and 3 movements, is Disparate Measures; the trio,

10 minutes and in one movement, slow-fast-slow, is Gli Uccelli di Bogliasco; and the fortissimo piano
etude is Heavy Hitter. Birds actually came into the two big pieces. After seeing lots of taking off and
landing of a great blue heron just outside my studio, I wrote flapping-type gestures into the piano quintet
and called the first movement "Flight". Lame, I know. And the bird songs I transcribed from those
Bogliasco mornings became important material in the trio, hence the title. I'm afraid that, as an American, I
can't actually pronounce correctly the first word of the title (the "gli" is said like a "yuh-lee" except quite
fast, and I sound stupid when I try), but you go with what you know. And in my case, that's not very much.
The only other cute bit of information to impart is that Lisa Nonken was there, and she is no relation to
Marilyn Nonken. However, Gina went to high school with Marilyn Nonken. In Milwaukee. So by doing
nothing, Marilyn was everywhere.
And one other cute bit of information -- during the hot "middle period" of my residency, a few parties
happened in the drinks room or the screened in porch late at night, and many bats were in evidence. Gina
became known as the batcatcher because she caught one in the third floor bathroom. Meanwhile, I caught
two -- but only got one outside successfully -- the other wriggled out in order to be caught shortly by Gina.
And favorite resident? I'm sure everyone who was there with her agrees on Beena. I can even forgive the
smelly citronella insect cream whose smell lingered on me for two days.
Weatherwise, it was typically summery, and perhaps more humid than usual. Being out in the middle of the
woods, I was more cognizant of the humidity and temperature than normally, since when it was humid all
my manuscript paper got moist -- indeed, when I printed, the paper steamed (my pictures of that kinda
suck). There were three or four days when it was SO hot outside that I couldn't work later than about 2 in
the afternoon, so I drove to the Wilton Mall or Target just to be in air conditioning (yes, I am a willful
contributor to global warming this way, so deal with it). There were even two days with a weather warning
I haven't encountered before: Excessive Heat Warning. Yes, it was hot, but not as hot at the beginning of
July 2002 (I remember because I was writing Strident and I thought it was cool that the weather turned into
New Orleans for me), and yes I went to the mall those days. Today it is quite dry and almost cool -- I am
wearing a long-sleeve shirt over my t-shirt.
Easily the event of the whole residency involved Skidmore College. Skidmore is not only Amy D's alma
mater, it holds a yearly Writer's Workshop in the summer, and all manner of famosity in writing are in
evidence. Somehow the writers knew who was doing what when -- and alas my plan to hear Louise Gluck
read was thwarted by Sunny -- and they did not alert me to Rick Moody's reading. I did the next best thing,
and went the next night, to hear Amy Hempel and a guy whose name I don't recall (Alan Gurganis?), which
is okay, since his story started great, and ended five times. FIVE TIMES. And I saw writers I know from
other colony residencies who have become big time in the intervening years, namely Honor Moore, April
Bernard and Henri Cole, for starters. And of course, Rick Moody, who was wearing a red athletic shirt with
white stripes whenever I saw him. At the end of his time there, he brought his band The Wingdale
Community Singers to to a gig in the "SPA" (cafeteria)), and a group of nearly a dozen Yaddites were in
evidence. Including me. It turned out to be a very nice gig, and the three of them that sang and played
blended well and sang in tune. Very rare, indeed. I caught Rick using some bar chords on his guitar, but I
didn't call him on it. And all the photos I took of the event were on Rick's camera. Interesting, indeed.
Meanwhile, I was glad to return to Maynard and cook for myself, such as it is. The quality of Yaddo meals
is a little lower than three years ago, though I have to say breakfast is unchanged, and Sally is still the only
reason to go to breakfast at all (she now occasionally wears a "Law and Order" baseball cap). Over here,
the lawns are a few days from needing mowing, the hammock is quite inviting indeed, and the cats follow
me wherever I go. Yesterday I went to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's to replenish the fridge, and I believe I
will have TJ's salmon burgers for dinner tonight. Yes. Yes.
This is tax free weekend in Massachusetts, and I have already planned my early Saturday morning: drive to
Staples, get the HP 5200TN printer to replace my ailing 12-year-old 4MV, and that will cost me $2109.88,
because I have a Staples rewards coupon and there is no tax. I am not doing it online, because I don't trust
the sucker not to charge me the tax. And when that printer arrives, I will have to go into full production
mode, which will also involve a trip to Alphagraphics in Concord, twice, because the scores are oversize. I

also will take my nice paper I got from Yehudi into Brandeis to make the scores themselves. Beff will be
back, and we will resume our daily bike rides. And I will finally do my syllabi for the year -- 3-part species
counterpoint was such an abject failure the last time I taught 2nd year theory that I'm replacing that unit this
time with a chorale harmonization unit. Uh oh.
All the links on the left are unchanged from the last posting. The yellow ones are little movies from my
Bogliasco time, the blue ones are websites, the red ones are links to studio performances of my hand drums
pieces, the "Birdsongs" is the Bogliasco birdsongs I transcribed, and the greenish-yellow ones are silly cat
movies. The many, many pictures below are from Yaddo, as follows: my studio, the mossy carpet on the
bridge into my studio, a mushroom, and lots and lots of nice peoples.
Brief news flash. I have won the 2006 Barlow Prize. That's a $15,000 commission to write a piece at least
15 minutes long for a consortium of 5 wind ensembles. More when details are available.

AUGUST 19. Breakfast this morning was Trader Joe's potato pancakes, rice link sausages, orange juice,
and coffee. Dinner was swordfish puttanesca, roasted vegetables, and salad. Lunch was Campbell's Chunky
Chicken Soup. Campbells and Trader Joes have not paid a fee to be mentioned in this space.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 47.8 and 84.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Makes Me Want to Pray" by Christina Aguilera. LARGE EXPENSES this last
six week include an HP 5200tn printer, $2139.88 tax-free and delivered, a pair of PSB Alpha "B" speakers,
$245 tax free, movies and CDs at Strawberries, $58, tax-full. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: Two summers ago, during which the long but not slow descent into Chairhood was
happening, I had two ten-minute pieces to write, and we had just gotten our new cats -- who were very
small kittens at the time. During July and August, a daily ritual happened between 2 and 3 in the afternoon.
As I sat at the piano writing, Cammy climbed up the back of my shirt and perched on my shoulder. I carried
him into the living room, sat on the couch, put him in my lap, and petted him. After 5 to 10 minutes, he
would be close to sleeping, would move off me onto the couch, and sleep. And I could resume composing.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Staples, but not
really. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Staples, and the
contradiction will be explained below. Also Maynard Door and Window. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY:are we "safer" than we were five years ago? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: fornation.
THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are waiting around, pine pitch, and pictures of W wearing safety
glasses at yet another photo op. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are actually -- none.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK printer heft. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: pi.
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a vitamin pill, plus some grapes swiped
onto the kitchen floor. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 25 out of 100. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Blacklight specials at K-Mart for people
wearing white socks. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: very special.
SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: MASTER. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,652. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.04 and $2.96. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE vapor lock, a piece of very, very moldy cheese, the
word that gets stuck on the tip of your tongue, bread pudding.
For those of you late-readers of last week's update -- the very end changed twice -- you know I have
returned from a few days in Burlington, Vermont, where I went for Beth's father's funeral. Most of the
details should remain private, and will, but I have no problem revealing things that embarrass me. For the
record, he died Sunday afternoon, the service was Thursday morning, and there was a viewing at the
cemetery Thursday afternoon. During that time, there was a whole lot of waiting around. And eating out.
I stayed in Massachusetts so as to attend Jeremy Sagala's dissertation defense on Tuesday, notable because I
was able to give Lee Hyla -- the outside reader -- a $10 jar of pickles. Also notable because Yu-Hui showed
up and it became her first official faculty act. The drive was nearly eventless (save a car that tried to pass a

car I was already passing -- rear view mirrors don't show you everything, people!), thus giving my car horn
its agogic accent for the year. All five siblings were there eventually, as was a sister (aunt) from the
midwest. My best moment was introducing myself to a pallbearer as "Beth's wife". The service was in the
Catholic church attached to the Catholic school Beff attended grades 1-8, and Catholic services just seem
weird to those of us brought up Protestant. The music was played on a Klavinova and the Klavinovist also
sang. I rued having trained ears during the musical portions, as said Klavinovist used willy-nilly inversions
of chords as if playing bar chords or reading from a lead sheet -- and thus the shapes of the bass lines were
not elegant. During the down time at home, the same old sibling relationships played out as I have always
seen them.
Before all of this was last weekend, tax-free weekend in Massachusetts. On Saturday, I had my day entirely
planned out. Well, actually, I had the first 15 minutes of it planned out. I drove to Staples and timed it to get
there just when they opened at 9 -- I was 5 minutes early and was not the first one there. Another woman in
line related that she was there to get a computer, tax-free. I think it would have been a waste to buy pens
and pencils that day. I motored to the store "kiosk" since I knew they weren't going to have a bigass printer
such as I was buying in stock, confidently recited the model number, and got a receipt to take to the register
-- which promptly charged me $107 tax. Said kiosk guy, "the no tax was supposed to be programmed
automatically", and he had to do a manual override. Ah, technology. This is why I did not order it online -in fact, the order as it appears on line shows an amount that includes the tax. Then I drove down Route 2A
to Littleton, where New England Home Theater was listed as a dealer of PSB speakers -- the brand of
speaker I had that blew at Yaddo. But they were not open. So I drove to K-Mart in Acton, got cat treats, and
then drove back to Litteton, where I got another pair of speakers of similar size to the ones I had (Alpha
"B"), and left the blown one there to be repaired.
Then my Saturday was, essentially, done, except for the scheming of what other big ticket items we could
get and save tax on. Beff turned down the oppotunity to get another Power Book (now the Mac Book Pro, I
guess), citing issues of compatibility. So I installed Finale 2007 -- the sexy new feature being parts linked
to the score -- and experimented a while. I generated parts for "Disparate Measures" and did the customary
adjustments -- shortening and lengthening crescendoes, moving dynamics, fixing slopes of slurs, adding
bits of text -- all of which were reflected on the score, which, because its spacing was different, now
commenced to look -- crapful. I put the text "Violin I" on the Violin I part, which then showed up on ALL
the parts AND on the score. So this linked parts thing -- quite obviously has to go back to the drawing
board. MakeMusic, alas, released a product on time rather than one that was useful. Seems like Finale
2007a or 2007b should modify that feature to make it actually useful. So later I generated the parts as
separate, unlinked, files, and adjusted them, etc. And should have done a little more proofreading before I
did that.
Meanwhile, the Staples webpage listed the anticipated date of delivery for the printer as August 22 -- the
original receipt said between August 16 and 22. While I was in Vermont crusing on the neighbor's wi-fi, I
looked up the order, and found out that the printer had been delivered at 4:30 Tuesday afternoon -- a few
hours after I had left for Vermont. With Big Mike out of town, Dewek in Colorado, and Carolyn
vehicleless, I resorted to the last resort -- calling the folks at Maynard Door and Window to ask them to
make sure the printer wasn't on the front porch, and possibly to cover it if it was on the back porch. When I
got back, the printer was deep in the garage. I tried carrying it in, but the box was far, far too large for me to
carry myself. It took both Beff and me, on Saturday afternoon, to carry it in.
So Beff finally got back on Saturday afternoon after being away at least two weeks. It took forever to get
all her stuff out of the car -- as we also had a few things from the "estate" with us (Budapest pillows and a
big rug, for starters), and of course Beff wanted to vacuum. So we reconfigured our rug situation (new rug
in alcove, rug from alcove moved to guest room), I set up the printer, and Beff vacuumed. It seems to be a
fact of life that for me installing a very large piece of technology involves much sweating.
So the printer is BIG. Being the larger, networkable model, it comes with an extra 500-sheet paper tray that
becomes one with the printer -- rather than being a separate tray you substitute, like on the 4MV that is now
outta here. The first thing it did was misfeed, but I think it may have been designed to -- the little control
panel knew exactly where the misfeed was, and gave me step-by-step instructions for clearing it out. I

installed the driver software on the 3 computers attached to the network, and it worked on all of them. A
Windows first! I tested both letter and tabloid size printing, and they both worked well. Shortly, much
11x17 printing will happen. And then we will need to figure out how to do double-sided printing (automatic
duplexing was a $500 option I did not go for).
Meantime, readers of an earlier version of last week's update know that I have my work cut out for me after
school is over in May. That's a bit of information that I think I'll leave mysterious until the granting
organization makes its official announcement. I can say that because of it I will definitely join a frequent
flyer program, since I expect to be flying in a year almost as much as Gusty Thomas does in a typical week.
And yesterday I drove back to Littleton to pick up my new speakers, which are very small and sound
terrific. On the way back, I stopped at Strawberries and got the new Christina Aguilera album, which has a
few terrific tracks, and plenty of tracks where you wonder why she bothered. Also, I finally got the DVD of
Office Space, which was on super-duper special. I may be capturing some small movies from that one -where Jennifer Aniston says "I love Kung Fu movies", for instance.
So now my producing of scores and writing of syllabi, etc., has been delayed by a week. C'est la vie. Today
Beff and I plan to walk downtown and do a bike ride. And I love days where that's all there is for us to do.
Well, that, and lie in the hammock.
Today's pictures begin with the new printer, contextualized. Then there is an old milk wagon from a venue
in Burlington, two pictures from the dregs of Burlington that Beff and I encountered on our walks, the
bean-type fruit of a tree we encountered on a walk, the beach beneath the camp (summer home), view of
the beach from the property, and the camp itself, showing the lower floor which has recently been
converted from spiderwebby storage space to an actual bedroom and bathroom.

AUGUST 25. Breakfast this morning was rice sauasage links with melted 2% cheese, orange juice and
coffee. Dinner was 99% fat free ravioli. Lunch was ... come to think of it, I guess I forgot to have lunch.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 56.3 and 86.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Bathtime in Clerkenwell" by The Real Tuesday Weld. LARGE EXPENSES this
last six week include iPod speakers, $99 at BJ's, various mailing bag and binding materials at Staples, $72,
and bindings for large scores at alphagraphics, $21. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The
family purchased a 1/4 track reel-to-reel player/recorder in 1964, and it had the capability of recording
sound-on-sound. Over the years I would occasionally record multipart piano things or even four-part choral
things with myself singing all four parts (you don't want to hear them -- trust me). There were two games
that I and friends invented that, upon reflection, seem pretty inventive. One game involved using the pause
a lot for a question and answer session so that the questions could be, say, composites of several
consecutive questions (I most remember coming up with the composite question from four questions,
"What does/used/toilet paper/taste like?") In the other game, one of us would record one side of a
conversation, and the other would come in and record the other side, not knowing what to expect. Classic
exchange: "What color is the wall you're looking at?" "I'm not looking at a wall." "Why aren't you looking
at a wall?" COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is the
Joyce Chen Asian Market in Acton, who still has no ginger sesame dressing on hand. COMPANIES WHO
HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is alphagraphics and good old Trader Joe's. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDARY: has anyone ever met one of the 33% of Americans who think W is doing a good
job? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: strack. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is formatting
parts. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are Santa Barbara olives, as usual. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK I think I figured out how to do ovesize binding myself. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN
1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0.
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 32 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: E-mail spam that literally smells like spam. THIS

WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Cortney Arce. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM:
re: se. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,676. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$2.94. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE a Ken doll, a day without orange juice, a jar of dark matter, seventeen of whatever it is
that wakes you up in the morning.
As I type this, it is a cool and rainy morning the likes of which we haven't seen since the last cool and rainy
morning. Beff returned from Vermont last Saturday, and we've been back to the normal workload, or
actually, more than the normal workload. Beff and I both had to write syllabi for our fall courses, and I
rejoiced at getting mine done by Monday and being able to send them to Mark in the office for display
purposes -- or for whatever reason it is that Brandeis makes us put our syllabi in department offices before
classes begin. I was also happy to have three pieces of equipment toward the high end of their respective
product lines: bigass printer, big paper cutter, very nice binding machine. For you see, the music I was
waiting to print out was formatted for 11 x 14 paper, which means printing onto 11x17 paper and cutting it
down. It was a long search for the paper cutter that was robust enough to let you measure 14 inches (most
of them stop at 11). I then brought them to be copied onto expensive, heavy paper, double-sided, and then
to alphagraphics to be bound. Now that was a trip.
So on Monday I let the Garmin direct me to alphagraphics, which is in one of the many villages of Concord
-- it saved me maybe a mile and 10 minutes. After leaving them off, I drove into Brandeis to have a meeting
about representing music on the experiential learning webpage of Brandeis, and while there I gave a tourlet
to a family taking a look at Brandeis. On the way back, I got my scores, and voila, the last page of one of
them was upside down and cut in the wrong place -- my bad. Upon return, I reprinted the page, cut it the
correct way, and figured out how to make the TWO cuts on the binding machine to get it to fit with the
score. I rule. Now I think I can do it again in the future, but we shall see. Obviously I got excited about
extremely mundane things this week.
Then there was the issue of binding the parts and mailing the scores and parts off -- some to Kansas, some
to Long Island -- and trips to Staples were necessary for the correct size mailing bags and for more binding
coils. One of those trips was piggybacked onto a trip for iPod speakers -- I've requested iPod plug-ins for
the small teaching room I'm in this fall, and I know we will get them -- in December. CompUSA had the
gorgeous-but-so-expensive Bose system, but we opted for a smaller, less deluxe Logitech system, whose
sound is adequate, and portable -- not to mention, it comes with a remote control and a carrying case. Also
a trip to Trader Joe's got piggybacked on that trip, and I was able to get delicious salmon filets for dinner.
So there, smarty pants.
Bike riding also resumed, and we did Boon Lake, the "other" Gropius house, and West Acton. Which leads
me to note that for the first time in many months, the column of links to the left is different. The four bright
yellow links are QuickTime movies from our West Acton ride, greatly sped up. See "Arriving Home" to see
both Erickson's Dairy and Christy's trailer.
I also had to make a list of required listening for my orchestration class, bring it to the library, and ask for
the materials to be put on reserve. This is a much faster process than trying to get them put online, which
takes two weeks at least, and there is no score. So in the syllabus I noted that the listening is not online, and
this semester we are "kickin' it oldstyle". There is a pretty large amount of work for the orchestration
students to do, and at this point I can't resist putting in a little "MWA-ha-ha" for good measure. Also,
deciding which homeworks the Theory 2 students will have to do was a chore -- especially considering I
have to grade it all.
So now things for school are in gear, and Beff is in Bangor yesterday and today to start getting that stuff
together -- as well as mowing the lawn, getting the car inspected, and paying the excise tax. As I type this,
she is in Downeast Toyota getting new tires and doing work on her computer.
Meanwhile, I have begun the long and arduous process of extracting parts to my piano concerto. I'm going
to try to average at least one a day for a while so that it won't drive me totally batty. So far, the two flute
parts and the first oboe part is done. Each part has to have four files, since there are four movements, and

doing the page numbers, remembering page turns, and especially putting in cues when there are long rests
are very time-consuming, yet necessary. An extra five minutes spent putting in a cue might save five
minutes times the number of players in an orchestra in rehearsal time. So I slog. Perhaps the second oboe
part later today.
On Wednesday night, Beff and I dove headfirst into Boston restaurant week, choosing to do the Blue Room
in Cambridge. We had to get an early reservation time -- though the numbers in the restaurant didn't seem
to support that -- and we got there, as usual, an hour early so as to spend some time at the Cambridge
Brewery, right next door. I had some hefeweizen and Beff had an altbier (making a comeback, it would
seem), and we got some spring rolls, and we saw some post-work web designers having a large contraption
of the hefeweizen. I think they call it the "tower", and it looks like a science project. Except you can get a
buzz from it. At the Blue Room, we had really excellent appetizer and main meal (the hangar steak, which
was amazing), and fairly mundane dessert. We also did the recommended wines to go with the dinner
because hey, we're worth it.
And then it was the drive home, eventless until almost all the way home, where there were flashing lights
and a cop directing traffic -- always a surreal thing when it's dark. Near as we can figure, a telephone pole
across the street broke and it had to be fixed right away (what with exposed wires in the street and all).
Thursday morning when Beff left for Bangor, they were still a-fixin' it. I took pictures.
Yesterday in addition to extracting parts, I went into Brandeis finally to organize my office -- get the stuff
out of the boxes, arrange the computer, etc. I am good to go. And I put Lily's little "recontextualization"
thing from last fall on my door. You had to be there.
And finally, on Monday, Maynard Door and Window sent some guys over to begin the process of replacing
our bulkhead doors. This apparently involved just step one, pouring some cement and waiting for it to dry.
This got us to thinking -- we are finally going to go ahead with converting the pantry into a half-bathroom,
which will apparently add double the cost to the value of the house (who knows if I just made that up?).
Beff asked the guys at Door and Window who a good contractor would be, and they said they could do it.
Hot diggity. We decided to keep the storage there, if possible, but then decided to knock it down and put
new cabinets or shelves in, if possible. And at the very end of our West Acton bike ride we stopped at a tile
store and started shopping. Wow.
Today's pictures begin with two from Yaddo that were finally retrieved from my phone: Beena, and Judah
and Ruth. Next is Beff's altbier from Cambridge Brewing, Beff herself, Beff's gazpacho, and a nice picture
of Cammy caught mid-meow. Then there is Jeremy's dissertation defense committee, and a night shot of the
street while the telephone pole was being repaired.

SEPTEMBER 4. Breakfast this morning was Trader Joe's potato pancakes and rice sausage links, orange
juice, and coffee; Beff eschewed the potato pancakes in favor of actual pancakes. Dinner last night was
grilled sliced portabello, grilled eggplant, and grilled shishkebab with marinated meat from Whole Foods.
Lunch was post-colloquium type stuff, also with mozzarella balls and spicy olives. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 48.4 and 78.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS Oddly enough, "Slow Drag" from Scott Joplin's "Treemonisha". LARGE EXPENSES this last six
week include various staples at BJ's, $78. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I used to have
hair. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is PSB
Speakers, who have yet to send a replacement woofer for my blown speaker. COMPANIES WHO HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Whole Foods for their wide variety of stuff to put on the grill.
Bitchin. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why do we mow the many lawns we do not use here?
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flinglepuss. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is breathless emails from Brandeis about new people in offices I never go to. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: are Bubbie's Pickles, Whole Foods spicy olives and marinated chicken. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK The location of the Whole Foods in Wayland. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND

10: 1.01. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Bio, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT
TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is one branchful of
seedless red grapes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 37 out of 100. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: A "baby" version of tenure called ninure.
THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Socorro Brandt. SUBJECT OF THAT
SPAM: anytime talk PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,688. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $2.77. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE a used book, the way we were, some tweezers I forgot I still had, the dead crane fly
that got stuck in a spider web that's still hanging off the kitchen window.
Actually, it's ten days since the last post, not a week, but I'm working back into a Tuesday groove, if I can.
Today is Labor Day (in Europe it's in May, just barely), and there's a nice combination of light traffic and
heavy conversation all around us -- not to mention, some heavy machinery -- I believe I hear a power
mower (I shonuff smell cut grass) and a power wedger, if that's what that's called -- a big loud machine that
takes logs and splits them gradually into fireplace size. I also hear an inordinate amount of birds for the
middle of the day (the white-breasted nuthatch and the chipping sparrow are going whole ... hog). And
while the sun goes in and out at random (though the clouds have something to do with that), Beff is
currently driving to Maine to begin her tenth teaching year there.
I'm trying to remember specifically what we did the weekend before this one, but it seems that all we did
was bike rides when we could, and various bits of academic work. As I mentioned last time, I have been
(virtually) gluing myself to my G5 to do parts for my piano concerto, and I can now safely announce that as
of an hour ago, I had finished all the parts that don't go divisi into multiple staves: that would be 2 flutes, 2
oboes, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, 2 trumpets, 2 trombones, 3 percussion, and double bass. For
those not acquainted with extracting parts for 33-minute piano concertos, it involves getting the notes from
Finale, inserting cues when an instrument sits out for a certain period, and prettifying it all so that the parts
themselves do not cost rehearsal time, and my own inadequacies as a composer are the only thing to blame.
And I do get obsessive about making the parts look good -- I think I was spoiled by Eric Bartlett of
Orpheus telling me the parts I sent them were the best they ever got. Crap. This would be a lot easier if I
had no standards.
Beff was in Maine for both pre-weekends getting whatever it is that she has to get together, as well as
talking with various siblings about various estate stuff. We have both been going through the second season
of Veronica Mars voraciously -- it's at least as addictive as nicotine, caffeine, and voluminous praise -- and
as of now we have but four episodes left for this season. The amount of side stories is pretty amazing, and
every once in a while I've channeled various populist music critics to comment: "well, as long as it's not
just complexity for its own sake." Also, since the guy who plays Veronica's father also played an alien in
"Galaxy Quest", Beff often asks me to repeat his lines in the alien character's voice. Often it comes out like
the minister in "The Princess Bride".....
And so that takes care of our evenings. Last week we had saved Tuesday for a tourist-type trip to Plum
Island on the north coast, but the voluminous rain saw to it that we wouldn't do that. So instead we did a
grand tour -- BJ's for various staples (toilet paper, paper towels, Claritin, a weirdass soda collection, kitty
litter), Trader Joe's (beer, wine, chips, fish, and they DON'T SELL INKO'S ANY MORE), and then the
long route up 495 to Littleton for a tile store. Yes, we are still looking at tile for the convert the pantry to a
half bath project, and I'm at the point where all the tiles look almost the same, and Beff is not. This is why
Beff is Beff. We of course navigated with the Garmin, and Beff had set it to instruct us in Danish -- though
the prompts on the screen were still in English -- and then Italian -- but for such an important trip as this,
she set it back to American English. In all these trips to tile stores, I have appreciated that they always made
it clear that they REALLY REALLY wanted our business, but they were not as desperate as mattress stores.
When they tell us "I'll be right here if you have any questions," I usually wonder where they'll be if we
don't. Thankfully, not aloud.
And then I had to go into ... WORK ... on Wednesday. There were prospective students to meet and a Major
Fair to staff. Bob and Jim also came to the major fair, and we had plenty of time to jawbone about various

stuff, since we didn't have as many customers as in previous years -- I guess this year's crop of freshmen is
not as high maintenance as the last few. In the earlier part of the day (I got there way before my first
appointment) I actually re-outfitted my office. Which is to say, I took stuff that had been put in boxes last
December, and splayed it about more or less as randomly as it had been in my previous office. But now my
office is carpeted, AND it has a new number (220) because .. it is in a different place. I also brought in my
artist colony printer so I could have an instantaneous place for printouts. I am SO cool.
And on Thursday ... back to Brandeis again. This time I got there early to make some copies of (public
domain) music reduced so I could hand them out next week and ... the new copier seems to BE UNABLE
TO DO IT WITHOUT CUTTING THE EDGES OFF. My suggestion that we trash the new copier and get
the old copier back went unheeded. My second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth suggestions that we trash the
new copier and get the old copier back also went unheeded. This battle of the titans is going to go on. So I
wasted a half hour, luckily interrupted by the meeting I had to go to -- Faculty Senate. As old-time readers
know, I was elected while in Bogliasco, and now I have to live with the consequences. As to the reductions
-- I was able to do them on my little Xerox machine at home, which cost, oh, maybe one-fifteenth what the
new music department copier cost. Which gives me a little bit more to deduct at tax time.
A little bit later in the week (actually, Friday), I got talked into yet another level of university service: the
Faculty Senate Council. I don't know what that means yet, but from what I have gathered, the council is 4
people that meet both with the senate and the administration, in person, to do what it is faculty senate
council does. And what I know about that so far is ... it has meetings.
Now we had asked friends to our west about getting together for lunches, etc. this weekend, but none of
them could do it at the appointed times ... David Sanford in Northampton, Julie K in Worcester ... so it was
more of the usual work this weekend, and on Sunday it was The Return of the Ka-Chings. Yes, ka-ching
Carolyn may have moved to much, much, much, much, much, much greener pastures, but she's still a kaching twin, and as such she and Big Mike came over for what was originally planned to be another
canoeing jaunt (see "ka-ching canoeing" movie to the left). Tropical Fizzle Ernesto made that less than
possible, so instead we concerned ourselves with exotic eating stuff from Whole Foods and '80s videos and
called it The Day After Carolyn's Birthday. As it turned out, we were right. I saw Madonna videos I hadn't
seen in years (like Take a Bow, Vogue) and Janet Jackson videos I hadn't seen ever (Control), and it was
very successful. For a capper, we watched, on on-demand, the first episode of this season of Weeds. And
had some frozen mocha bars that Big Mike had brought.
Today Beff and I did the West Concord ride, including the big hill on Summer Hill Road (hence the name),
which was a big exercise, and then had cheeseburgers -- the leftover lowfat hamburger we defrosted for
Sunday but didn't eat. And shortly after finishing the double bass part, I came to this Windows computer to
update. So there, so there.
I also spent a VERY long time this week evaluating an external file for academic purposes. I would be
more specific, but I don't think I am supposed to. I wrote the letter, sealed the envelope, and jumped up and
down. A lot.
Six days from today (Sunday the 10th), we have volunteered to host a department pot luck again, from 2 to
6. All music department people past and present are welcome, as are the regular readers of this space,
including those with initials that are the same as a New England state. The music office has been slow to
spread the news, so I've tried to get them up to speed a little. And if you would like directions and a map,
check out the "Where da pot luck?" link on the left.
Three weeks ago, briefly, I put up on this space that I had won the Barlow Prize -- a commission from the
Barlow Foundation to write for a consortium of five wind ensembles. I removed it soon thereafter, thinking
that it should be private until the Barlow Foundation announced it ("after September 15", according to the
web page). Then I looked at my e-mail, which did not warn me to keep it secret. So, I Know What I Did
Next Summer. All that's different is that I'm applying to colonies sooner than usual, since I'm usually on the
three-year plan. Now all I have to do is get through this academic year. And then (sigh) I have to write for
band. I don't know how to write for band.

I didn't have occasion to take many pictures this week, so we have a paucity here. Beff took a bunch of
Starbucks coolers and funny colored sodas with her to Maine last weekend, and I photographed the
arrangement. Then I got Carolyn by our lunch setup yesterday. Later, while I was e-mailing, Beff called up
and said, "Take pictures of Sunny!" So I did. If you look really closely way back in the second one, you'll
see Cammy looking on with those cat glow-eyes that happen when flashes go off. I also like the details on
the hydrangia on the very last shot.

SEPTEMBER 15. Breakfast this morning was ... uh, nothing now that I think of it. Dinner was Campbells
Select Soup of some sort, plus some chips with salsa. Lunch was the two slice special at Cappy's.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 41.4 and 81.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Some tune from the Notebook for Anna Magdalena Bach, don't know what it's
called. LARGE EXPENSES this last week or so are a toy piano ordered over the phone, but not yet paid
for, repaired PSB speaker $116, new watch at K-Mart $19. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
My third grade teacher was pretty strict, and sometimes in ways that made no sense. On a vocabulary test,
she once gave me an "F" because all the sentences I used began with "the". COMPANIES WHO HAVE
NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are the US Postal Service. COMPANIES
WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Chau Dental. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC
QUANDARY: What's the big idea? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: struples. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF include mouth pain, and diminished seventh chords. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: are Bubbie's Pickles, chips with some salsa, Santa Barbara Olives pepperoncini.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Modern dentistry. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10:
1.01011011001101. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, bio, compositions. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is
another vitamin pill type thing. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST WEEK: 4.. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 44 out of
100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: a video iPod with a
watchable screen. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Burris E. Fizzle.
SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,732. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.55. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a placard that says "POOP", the mixing bowl that's too big for
most stuff, 27 winter hats, a piece of ice.
It's actually eleven days since the last post, so deal with it. I have just returned from my first actual dental
visit in about ten years. Don't look at me that way. I seem to have found a full-service practice (Dr. Chau, in
Sudbury, on Boston Post Road) with exactly what I needed: people who don't look at me that way. In any
case, for those of you that need to know, I'm minus four old fillings, have one tooth that needs a crown, and
a couple of impacted wisdom teeth. And plenty of tartar -- or I did. Modern dental amenities amaze: each of
the work rooms has a large computer monitor hanging from the wall, and it's used for two purposes: for
kids to watch cartoons while their teeth are being cleaned, and for you to see digital pictures of your own
teeth (the cool thing -- maybe -- was that the pictures revealed the original glue (resin) for the missing
fillings. Eeew). A little Water-Pik shaped thing took pictures of my teeth, which I got to see, and then I got
to see my X-Rays (I had forgotten that they set you up with the welder's bib to take the X-Rays). The initial
tartar removal was done not with a drill but with water and ultrasound. And just a little of the pick. I have
been having pain in my mouth, upper right, for a little while (I don't know if my students have noticed or
not), and it feels as if the teeth have shifted perhaps. The X-Rays reveal nothing wrong except probably
some nighttime teeth grinding. Ugh, how do I teach myself not to do that? Anyway, I have two more
DEEPER cleanings scheduled in early October -- actual novocaine events. Then, new fillings, the crown,
take out the bad wisdom teeth, etc.
I also am in the throes of preparing a speech for the 26th, at which time I accept the Naumburg Chair (I
hope it fits in my back seat). It will be a semi-multimedia extravaganza -- since the audience won't know
much about what I do -- and I have been trying to write out -- actually write out -- my speech. So far the
results are disastrous. Beff suggests I come in with an outline and wing it (or Buffalo wing it, nyuk nyuk),

which is what it may come down to. It's hard for me to be serious without being pompous as well -- why
didn't I know that before now? Hey, I have to acknowledge all the other composers who have passed
through Brandeis, and acknowledge the composers whose work influenced me, etc. ... oh well, maybe I'll
come up with a version that doesn't make me out to be so serious. I am counting on that Shakespeare tie
that Beff got me to keep the overall spirit light.
And in the meantime, the teaching season is under way. Due to the mouth thing, I've felt a little constricted
from my usual teaching style, but when I get into it, I've gone right past the pain. No problemo. I now have
to make up a 15-minute quiz for my orchestration class (it was the only way to get them to do the assigned
listening, thought I), prepare the Neapolitan lecture, and remember that I see seven private students per
week.
The meeting phase of being on the Faculty Senate Council has begun, and it is not painful -- though it did
cause me to wake up early on a Tuesday, on which I would normally not come into Brandeis. There has
also been a large gathering of faculty and grad students from the music department so that all can get
acquainted and talk about what they are doing. That was not bad. And what are my students writing? Here
goes: etude for whistler, string quartet, Pierrot piece, orchestra with two voices as well as parallel version
with Pierrot, solo piano piece, solo piano piece, string nonet.
The season of sleepovers has begun as well, which was inaugurated by Harold Meltzer on Wednesday
night, after his Dinosaur Annex concert. We now have a new acquaintance in common -- Gina Ruggeri,
who is his colleague at Vassar, and in whose studio at Yaddo my PSB speaker blew. Harold brought wine,
as good houseguests are supposed to, I guess, and we had some wine that was already cold. Not much of a
wine guy.
On Sunday we had our occasional -- perhaps two times every three years -- Sunday pot luck for the
beginning of the school year, which was fun and well attended. As usual, I made pizza, and for once it
didn't all get snarfed; I also grilled some marinated eggplant. Eric Chafe brought the most amazing salmon
curry, and others brought pretty much the right combination of things to make it a complete meal. There
was a record attendance in children for this one -- two babies, a toddler, a six-year-old, and a seven-yearold. Our department is blessed with issue. Not to mention beer, as it turns out. And both of our New
England states showed up as well -- nice to see Newek out and about. To Newek -- I updated your file letter
again, since I noticed that I said you had taught Mus 106 with me in 1992. While I was at Columbia, and
you weren't.
And on Monday, Beff, alas, lost her wallet from her pocketbook -- probably it fell out as she was walking
from the parking lot at U Maine to her office. And it was my job, having the credit cards that she also had,
to cancel those cards and request new ones. Now I have a basis for comparing Chase, Citibank and Bank of
America (whatever happened to smaller banks?), and it goes like this. Remember, of course, that someone
trying to cancel a credit card is agitated, trying to get to a customer service rep before someone uses the
card illegally. Number of steps from Customer Service number to speaking to a rep: all of them fail. Time
spent on hold AFTER negotiating a morass of numeric choices: Chase, 2 minutes, Citibank 1 minute, Bank
of America 4 minutes. Ease of use in cancelling: all of them get high marks. Kept me on the line trying to
sell me more services I didn't want: Chase. Of course this meant that Beff was without her credit cards, but
also without her license, Pier One card, U of Maine card, AAA card, etc., and without any usable ID or any
way of getting cash (other than writing checks to her colleagues -- how 70s). So I express mailed her
passport to her to use as picture ID and -- get this -- the US Postal Service could not guarantee a next day
delivery to Orono, just 255 miles away. For those of you playing along at home, this pretty much confirms
that the USPS sucks big ones. So she's got ID, got just enough cash to buy gas to get back to Maynard, and
is slowly building back up her card retinue. Which began with the purchase of a five dollar wallet.
The Barlow Prize has been announced via e-mail to all the applicants, so I can simply say, without being
outta line, that in April I'll be able to prove once again that I don't know how to write for band. Apparently
that's not a bad thing.
I am also thinking ahead to a 74th piano etude: a "talking pianist" etude requested by Adam Marks, and I'm

going to use a text piece by Rick Moody for it. He gave the go-ahead for an abbreviated version of his text.
It uses "not" a lot.
We have just started a little warm spell, so I like the weather right now, and the cats are actually now
lounging on the roof outside of the computer room. Actually, Cammy has liked doing that quite a bit lately
-- one night I closed the screen to go to bed, came back in ten minutes later to see Cammy looking
plaintively through the screen at me. Oops.
Upcoming include lunch at MacDowell with Tarik on Tuesday, going to U Southern Maine for a Beff
spectacular next Friday -- which is Beff's birthday, giving the stupid, stupid, stupid speech, and going to
inner Maine with Beff for a wedding of one of her students. Then more teeth cleaning will happen. Joy of
joys.
This week's pictures include a glow-eye shot from the flash of Cammy on the roof outside the computer
room, followed by seven candid shots taken at the pot luck. You regular readers are probably wondering
why you bothered this week....

SEPTEMBER 22. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was
Campbells Select Soup of some sort, and later chips with Santa Barbara Olive salsa. Lunch was the two
slice special at Cappy's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 40.5 and 80.1. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Wouldn't It Be Nice" by the Beach Boys. LARGE
EXPENSES this last week or so are a Schoenhut toy piano, $239, video iPod $366 with tax, 2 Oral-B
electric toothbrushes, $33 each. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The counterpoint class I
taught at Columbia met in a classroom on the fifth floor of Barnard Hall. Sometimes we would go out the
window onto the roof right next to the building and view the river and Riverside Church. One day as I was
messing around with examples and flinging the eraser behind my back, it happened to land perfectly on the
chalk tray. Sweeeeet. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS
WEEK is Schoenhut Pianos via Un4gettable Toys, and the programmers at Apple who wrote iTunes 7.
COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Apple Computer. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDARY: How many Neapolitan sixths does it take to change a key? THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: klunkfarbenmelodie. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include Republicans
and incorrect resolutions of the Neapolitan sixth. People, flat 2 does not resolve to natural 2! RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are just the usual breakfast staples. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK video
iPodness. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS
LAST WEEK is a chipmunk, brought into the master bedroom to be offed. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1.. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE
FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 49 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Mandatory fugues in every sitcom theme song. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE
SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Bohuslav Renard. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: PHmuARdMA PHOTOS
IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,779. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.47. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a
drafting table, the Sports section of the New York Times, the head of a pin minus the angels, and seventeen
pieces of peanut brittle.
Today is Beff's birfday. Later in the day we will be hooking up at the University Maine in Gorham (or
University of Southern Maine, Gorham campus), where she is doing a music technology clinic, and is the
star of an 8:00 concert. Our friend Dan Sonenberg set the whole thing up -- he's also bringing me and Amy
D there in March -- and we plan on dinner with Dan and his lovely wife Alex. We know both of them from
overlapping at the VCCA, where wackiness tends to ensue. Then late at night we'll get back, and likely
Geoffy will already be here, sound asleep. Or silent asleep.
Then this weekend I will try to stop obsessing about my stupid speech I give Tuesday -- it kinda kept going

through my head overnight whenever I woke up. Nope, don't want to make a fool of myself.
The weather got gorgeous for last weekend -- it had rained overnight Friday night, and predictions were for
a gloomy and muggy Saturday, but instead it got sunny and gorgeous. So Beff and I dropped everything, so
to speak, and finally made the drive to the wildlife refuge on Plum Island,on the north shore of
Massachusetts. It was a fairly straightforward drive, bringing us through historic-looking Newburyport, and
stuff, and there was an actual entry fee. It reminded us a little of the wildlife refuge near the Atlantic Center,
minus the crocodiles, and plus actual long strands of sandy beach. It's basically a big barrier island with lots
of grass and boardwalks, and we saw what scenery we could -- even doing one of the "hikes" along a
boardwalk that reminded me a bit of the old ballplayers that came in and out of Field of Dreams. When we
saw what we had done, we left, and trolled around for a nice place for lunch. None was to be found, so we
drove to Essex and ate at Woodmans -- which was a lot of fun until we actually had to eat all that fried
stuff. We got two fried clam platters and Sam Adams on draft, and should have gotten one for the two of us
to share.
Sunday was also a perfectly nice day, and we celebrated the continued warmth by doing a bike ride to Boon
Lake. Sweet. We also got a bunch of stuff at Shaw's where we are collecting "points" for a future heavily
discounted shopping trip. One point per $20 spent, and 20 points gets you the shopping spree. We now have
19. And we are so pathetic to care about this. Also at K-Mart we got Beff some CD-Rs for use at the office,
and I followed the dentist's advice to get an electric toothbrush. So Beff got one, too. When the first price
tag I saw at K-Mart said $140 I started worrying -- till we saw a really good Oral-B model for $33. I had
always thought of electric toothbrushes as useless but cute little toys -- we had one when I was 8, and it just
kind of vibrated. This new, modern model both vibrates and has a spinning part that is supposed to
penetrate your gums. Cool. Gum penetration is a new thing for me. Hee hee. I said "penetration".
Otherwise -- besides the usual teaching this week, there was a Faculty Senate meeting on Thursday which
was NOT a waste of time (at least not of mine). Last week on Wednesday I had brought my 2-1/2 year old
second generation iPod to my theory class and had planned to play an excerpt. And when I pressed PLAY,
up came the blinking battery icon. It had been fully charged on Monday, and I played 5 minutes of Daphnis
in the orchestration class that day. So it occurred to me finally -- time to make the plunge and get that new
iPod.
So on Saturday online, I ordered a black 80 gig iPod on the Apple site, with my name engraved on it. It
arrived at Brandeis while I was teaching orchestration on Wednesday, and it had been shipped from
Shanghai on Sunday. Excellent work, Apple China people. When it arrived, I showed it to Max, who was in
Yu-Hui's office, and he said, "cool, man (he starts every conversation this way). Like you just connect it,
say yes to Sync, and go out and have a beer". Which was the case. I had been collecting mp4s and stuck
them in my iTunes library, and they made it onto the iPod and ... they play! And I added photos and stuff -though I had to download the manual from a well-hidden corner of the Apple webpage to figure out how to
do that. Using it at school Thursday, it became evident that fingerprints are more prominent on a black iPod
than on a white one.
And when I arrived home on Wednesday, there were not one, but TWO Schoenhut toy pianos in the garage.
I had ordered one online from Un4gettable Toys, and when Beff lost her wallet and credit cards, I called
them up to let them know the credit card I had given them would not work. Got the answering machine,
asked them to call me back. When after two days they didn't, I called, told them to cancel the order, and
also e-mailed them. Meanwhile, I called another company to order a toy piano. And both of them arrived at
once. The first one was beautiful, had a lovely sound. The second one only made plink noises, nearly no
pitch. I unscrewed the top piece of wood and saw that a screw was missing a bolt and that the metal plate
that makes the pitches was misaligned. Easy thing to fix, but it sure was shoddy work of some sort on
Schoenhut's part. I decided to keep both -- one for the concerto (going to Marilyn some time this fall), and
one for my office. I brought it in yesterday, and had to take down one of my shelves in order for it to fit on
the piano. Both pianos came with a very cute bench, by the way, small enough so that the cats can peer over
it, if they were so inclined.
On Tuesday, I used my day off to drive up to the MacDowell Colony -- a mere 70 minute drive -- to do

lunch with Tarik O'Regan, whom I met at Yaddo and is -- duh -- in residence at MacDowell. He is in
Chapman studio, a mere, oh, 20 or so miles from Colony Hall, which I got to see, and we went downtown
and he showed me Nonie's -- which I liked. We did cheeseburger platters, and afterwards we went to the bar
next door, and since it was so nice outside, we sat on the patio and had two beers each -- Long Trail IPA
and Harpoon Octoberfest. That kind of kept us there for quite some time, so it was kind of late by the time I
got out of Peterborough. Tarik gave me a CD of his, which turned out to be a great car CD -- lots of
beautiful English choral singing and stuff, dontcha know. And organ.
Last night, another week of teaching behind me, I decided to capture a few music videos for my iPod. I also
got a couple of scenes from Big Man on Campus while I was at it. I decided to try out the "save for iPod"
feature of iMovie, which saves movies as mp4s and sticks them in the iTunes library. Fine, that seemed to
have worked. All in all, I saved 5 movies, the last of them a Janet Jackson video. When I connected the
iPod and asked it to sync, the first message I saw was "copying 2 of 4789"... stupid program obliterated the
old library from the iPod and copied largely the same damn thing back onto the iPod. What a time waster.
Then when it was done I saw that instead of five new movies in iTunes, I had FIVE COPIES OF THE
SAME JANET JACKSON VIDEO. And there was no trace anywhere of the other four I had just added. So,
Apple iTunes programmers -- get your heads out of your buttcheeks. Cleaning up after iTunes's mess was
not difficult, but I should not have had to. And two of the videos are lost forever.
There was one misspeaking in a class this week and I forget the context, except that I said "destiny" when I
meant "density". I covered my tracks by mentioning Benoyce and Density's Child.
This week's pictures include the new iPod (showing picture of me and Berio), new toy piano as Sunny
looks on, and eight shots in the Plum Island refuge.

OCTOBER 2. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was lowfat
cheeseburgers and salad. Lunch was a bunch of noshing on chips, salsa, olives, etc. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 37.6 and 80.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS "The Look of Love" in the Diana Krall version. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include clothes,
cat food, food, and iPod accessories at Target, $122, the Munich Bach Orchestra CD of the Brandenburgs,
$52, more iPod accessories from a drug store in Norway, Maine, $58, oil change from Mr. Quick's in
Bangor, $31. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My sister and her boyfriend at the time must
have had disposable income, as they got me a cassette player/recorder, along with the Sly & the Family
Stone cassette "Stand" for Christmas when I was a freshman in high school. Which is part of how I know
those tunes so well. It was my first battery-powered tape recorded, and every spring on the first warm
weekend day I would record stuff happening outside -- from hitting wiffle balls to making the dog bark to
simply running by. I think the old box of cassettes contains several simply marked "a warm April day".
SURREALITY OF THE WEEK: Bossa nova playing in a Japanese restaurant in Bangor. THIS WEEK'S
COSMIC QUANDARY: How many jokes on Oedipus are there, really? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: sterk. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include driving 2-lane roads in the dark, waiting
around at receptions, and feeding CDs into iTunes. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are olives
and rice link breakfast sausages. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Bangor cell phone service is now digital,
and is mandated to be so by the end of 2007. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5.
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page and Performances. "Companies who have/have not covered
themselves in glory" is now gone, replaced by "Surreality of the Week". NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT
LAST WEEK: 1. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 6. DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 25 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Endowed Chairs without speeches attached. THIS
WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: spelled Try. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: try
Answers for. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,779. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $2.33 and $2.35, though I see it in Maynard now for $2.22. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a delayed reaction, two pairs
of poopified underwear, a sentimental journey, as much snot as you can shake a stick at.

All right, all right. The single biggest cause of stress in my life -- the Naumburg Chair speech -- has
happened, and moving on is being done by me. Much of the previous weekend was spent stressing about it
(I pretended I knocked of the speech and started writing it Saturday, but that was not the case), finalizing its
structure, followed by three days of returning to it obsessively and adjusting it a word at a time. It started
with my silly Oedipus joke, padded by a story of "test-marketing" it at Yaddo and in Music 103. Then it got
personal, and ended with a bit of video, first introducing, then playing Amy D's amazing performance of
"Martler". Literati and glitterati were therem including several of my colleagues, Eric Hill from theater and
several principals from The Bacchae, including highly talented Sound Design guy who goes by an initial.
Also looking on were two from the faculty senate, others from theater, the Dean, the Provost, and the
former Provost who hired me at a 15 percent discount from what I would have made at Columbia.
I also got a huge bouquet of flowers that I was instructed to give to Beff -- and I did so, having to take them
to Maine, much more on that later. There was a big spread of pretty expensive food -- including stuffed
grape leaves (personal story: Symphony Restaurant used to be where Pizzeria Uno is around the corner
from NEC, and it was a Greek specialty place. For years the menu included "stuffed crap leaves", which I
think should have been more popular than they must have been). The Provost introduced me with a fairly
lengthy speech, including quotes from my student evaluations ("Davy is the Man", for instance -- the level
of discourse at Brandeis is frequently a little higher than that), revealing a few things I didn't know -including the fact that my academic rank my first year (when I was in Rome) was Instructor (a bit of a fall
from Associate Professor, which I was at Columbia). I blame Claudio and the tendency at Princeton for
dissertation reading to be laissez faire. Then there was the obligatory list of stuff. I had thought a history of
the Chair would also be presented (Fine, Berger, Shapero, Wyner), but it was not, so I had to fill a little in
in order to get to one of my points.
The speech in the middle revealed some personal and tragic things from my life that I'd never made public
before, and when I got to that part, my voice unexpectedly broke a little. There was at least one moment
when I was reading and I briefly started thinking only "I'm reading a speech" as the words continued to
come out. I guess this happens frequently. As to said personal and tragic things -- you who read this (you
know who you are, because, in a relative sense "you" are "me", and I speak outside of myself when I say
that) may read my speech, which you may find by clicking the red link down below and to the left.
Afterwards I got some nice feedback (I thought it sucked, but then again, I am me, and here I do not speak
outside of myself), including plenty of comments about how gracious I was to my hosts. Yes, I really did.
Afterwards it was just a few colleagues hanging out by the food table, and I had to carry the enormous
bouquet to my Office to ready it for taking to Maine. Thursday I did so, first emptying the water from the
vase, with Yu-Hui's help.
As to last last weekend, Beff was here, it was warm enough for bike rides at various times, and those we
did, in between my stressing about my speech. Maynard Door and Window had left the bulkhead doors
kind of open -- they laid the cement in August, and it has been dry for some time -- and I noticed water
getting into the basement where bulkhead doors should be. So I covered that with our extra tarp and held it
down with the Adirondack, um, ottomans (ottomen?). Meanwhile, much cutting of vines and extra branches
in the backyard -- very relaxing stuff when you are stressing about a speech.
The week's teaching went fine, though for some reason I scheduled two hour and a half classes on the
augmented sixth, which really takes only one class, and I shot my wad. For the second class, I brought in
my siren song (including playing a movie of a Bogliasco ambulance, with sound) and O Rhode Island,
which we sang en masse. Meanwhile, this was a Musica Viva weekend, meaning Geoffy was around. We
actually got to see each other for about ten minutes Thursday morning before I had to go to work, and he
very nicely took in the mail and fed the cats while I was in Maine -- even down to the point of washing the
cat food cans so they could be recycled (we usually don't bother). Geoff tried out the action on the toy
piano, and we confirmed that it's pretty good. And after my Thursday teaching it was the drive to Bangor.
I brought the new iPod with me for the drive, and found it with some dismay that the FM broadcast portion
of my car trip hardware was still in Maynard -- that part can be detached and attached to your computer

such that the sound from your computer can be broadcast, and I had showed it to Beff and not reattached it
-- so it was W-BACH radio and Lite Oldies for me. In Orono, Beff and I met for dinner at Woodmans,
where there was very nice beer and pretty good Buffalo tenders for me. Friday was our free day, which alas
was a rainy one, and I rediscovered the joy of retrieving e-mail at dial-up speeds (including a flurry of
Faculty Senate stuff that was as important as it was boring). In the morning, I got an oil change (that
mileage number from the last one crept up unexpectedly) and we went to Target, Borders, and the Bangor
Mall to look for various stuff, much of it iPod-related. Before that, I was briefly at UMaine, where Beff's
makeup lesson didn't show up, and I scarfed a pile of CDs to put on my iPod -- so THAT'S where the
complete Beethoven and Mozart sonatas have been all this time. Finally the rain let up a bit, we took a little
walk,and that was it. Lunch was at the Sea Dog (Teriyaki Tuna sandwich, now $10 and the first time we
had it there it was $6) and the Ichiban Japanese restaurant (where they played bossa nova on the sound
system).
Saturday was the reason I came to Maine. Beff and Chip (U Maine band director who has made plenty of
appearances in this space) had been guilted into going to the wedding of a music graduate, way in the
innards of the state of Maine. We shoved off at 10 am for Norway, Maine, passing through the traffic
pattern hell that is Auburn/Lewiston on the way, and sat through a perfectly nice wedding, with a humorous
homily (say that five times fast) by a priest with an Australian accent. The reception was north by about a
half hour drive, at a mountain resort in Bethel, Maine, and here's where much, much, much of our time got
wasted. There was a half hour wait for the (not open!) bar to open -- and there was post-concert reception
type stuff available, too), after which there was an hour(!) wait for the grand room to open, where we were
seated for a meal (tables were assigned -- and the list was by table, not alphabetical, which made finding
your assigned table much longer than it should have been). Things were SO-o-o-o slow that Beff and I
started creating deadlines. The first was "if there is no champagne in my glass by 4:30 we leave".
Thankfully (so to speak), mine was full at 4:28:40. Then there was the 4:50 deadline for salad (we got it
with a minute to spare). The meal itself was actually quite good -- we had pork tenderloin and not the
haddock. We also sat with a music former student who now decorates cakes at a Shaws, and he made all the
cakes for the reception AND he made the mix tape of golden oldies (I mean, Lawrence Welk, people) that
played during the reception.
Meanwhile, another oldies band wearing red plaid shirts was setting up as we eat, and TWO -- TWO! -- of
them looked like fat versions of Jim Ricci (Beff was the first to notice). We couldn't get close enough for a
good picture to document that fact, hence the Sasquatchesque picture to appear below. But now we know
what Jim's future holds. I hope he knows how to blow bubbles.
We stayed long enough for the bride to make her appearance at our table, and got outta there -- for it was a
long, long drive back to Bangor, through towns, cities, curvy passages, etc. Drives like that, stuck behind
slowish cars, seem much longer in the dark than they do in the light. My conclusion as we drove the home
stretch was that this was fun and the food was nice, but in the future when Beff gets guilted into going to
weddings in the middle of f***ing nowhere, that it would be okay with me for her to go alone.
Yesterday I drove back, beating the predicted big rainstorm by about a half hour -- a new iPod charger and
FM broadcaster worked fine, but the signal was too weak for good playback on my cheap-ass radio. I spent
most of the day after returning feeding CDs into the iMac G5 with the intent of iPodding the data. And
STILL I have 33 gigs free. I also got some more videos off of iTunes, and the Diana Krall version of "The
Look of Love" is totally terrif. I mean totally. Must to get her new CD.
Today is Yom Kippur, which makes it a vacation day from Brandeis -- tomorrow is a Monday schedule,
though, which gives me three straight days at Brandeis. Today I must write a pile of letters, correct theory
homework, and feed yet more CDs for the ol' iPod -- complete string quartets of Beethoven going in right
now. And this morning the workers from Maynard Door and Window finally showed up to continue their
work on the new bulkhead doors. Coming up: two novocaine events, for tartar cleaning UNDER the gums,
on Friday and next Tuesday. Beff is back Thursday night but goes to Vermont to do dad-estate type stuff,
and returns Sunday or Monday. She actually gets a little break for Columbus Day (it's an old help-with-theharvest kind of break that is not pertinent for most nowadays), so she'll get to be around for my second
novocaine event. What fascinating conversation we will have. We also decided that we have to own a

ladder, and we have no way to transport one from a hardware store except to carry it -- so on Friday,
novocained up, I plan on going with Beff to Aubuchon and carrying one home. First thing to do with
ladder: Re-join faux railings on top of front porch. Second thing: get onto garage roof and cut branch that is
rubbing against it. Third thing: take down a few fragile branches from the "pathetic" maple tree that could
fall into traffic. Fourth thing: figure out where to store it.
This week's pictures: Sunny reflected in the toy piano, Geoffy playing it (using the bench). Four scenery
pictures from the wedding reception area, our cake, the bride laughing with Chip and Beff, and the
Sasquatch-type picture of the overstuffed Jim Ricci wannabe.

OCTOBER 10. Breakfast this morning was absolutely nothing. Lunch was sour pickles from Whole Foods,
olives from whole foods, and old olive oil french fries. Dinner last night was salmon burgers and salad
made with arugula purchased at the Maynard Farmers Market. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST
WEEK: 35.3 and 76.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS transition music from
an unidentified TV commercial. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include maintenance on Beff's Camry,
$572. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I have no memory of this, but I was told that the first
time I went to a dentist (Dr. Sussman in St. Albans) I cried and screamed the whole time, and when it was
over, Dr. Sussman is reputed to have told my parents that for all he cared my teeth could rot. Perhaps this is
why my earliest dental memories are in Swanton. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: If it moves, does
that mean we don't have to paint it? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: kickle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF are breathing through my nose and waiting for the damn leaves to fall so they can be raked.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are real lemonade and limeade, Bubbies, and Freschetta thin
pizzas. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Uses of words like "calculus" and "deep pockets" to describe stuff in
my mouth that I can't see. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6. REVISIONS TO THIS
SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED
BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a little bit of plastic from a wrapper. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE
FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 29 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Self-raking leaves. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,841. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.25, though I see it in Maynard now for $2.15. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a sectional
conclusion, a Times Italic lowe case "r", the way you smile, nine more of whatever the last one was.
So a second biggest cause of stress, or something, is under way -- why didn't I got to a dentist in ten years?
I apparently require more novocaine than your average bear, especially up top. But actually, my TWO twohour long dental experiences in the last week (Friday and today) were fairly painless affairs, if you factor
out the horrid classic light rock they play in the office. Friday -- left side. Today -- right side. Novocaine,
hypersonic water-pik, raise my hand because there is still pain, novocaine, hypersonic water-pik, and then
several grades of scraper, it would seem. Between scraperies I actually heard what sounded like sharpening
of the scraper, which must be really cool in person. At today's appointment, I was told that the gums on the
left are "healing nicely". In a month, back for a diagnostic and more scraping once the gums are back on
track. And a week from Friday, an appointment for reconstruction -- put fillings in where fillings once
were, etc.
At the Friday appointment, Beff came along, signed up as a new patient (why didn't she go t a dentist in ten
years? Probably following my example) and predicted her needs wouldn't be as severe -- "I brush more
often than you" -- and tooled around Sudbury and Wayland while I was being gouged. Left side of my jaw
is still sore, and the mouth pain of which I earlier complained is, at least, less. Though in long days like
yesterday there is still strange feelings therein. Hey, when talking or lecturing on Monday, I occasionally
was made aware that with the plaque gouged out there is more air between some teeth, making "f'"s and
"th"s feel a little tickly. Friday afternoon we brought Maynard Door and Window their lawn sign that they
had left behind, then walked downtown to buy a ladder -- which we then walked home. And, as predicted, I
got rid of the branch that's been scraping against the garage roof, and bungee corded two parts of the faux

railing atop the front porch roof. Then we stored it. Dinner was ... tremendous.
Earlier in the week were the usual things, and teaching was fine. Students in orchestration got the lower
brass info, and when I wrote down the instruments in band yesterday, I had to be corrected (I forgot
CLARINETS! and SAXES!). And in Theory 2, the important of spelling is being laid out -- hence G-B-D-F
wanting to resolve to C or C minor, and G-B-D-E# wanting to resolve to the cadential 6-4 in B minor -- and
B-D-F-Ab wanting to go to C minor but B-D-F#-G# wanting to go to F# minor. Trickiness ensued, and
several students feigned hyperventilating sounds as I went through all the diminished 7th chord stuff. Wait
till they get to -- THE COMMON TONE DIMINISHED SEVENTH. Mwa ha ha. Composition lessons all
are progressing rapidly, and prospective students get the tour when they ask.
For the weekend, Beff went to Vermont to help her sister with getting rid of some stuff from the condo,
moving some to the summer place (in Vermont they call that the "camp", but the use is not sufficiently
widespread that I say it here), and cataloguing books that are to be donated to Norwich University. It WAS
noted that no siblings with Y chromosomes came along to help. Her drive up was delayed by leaf peepers in
New Hampshire (named after Newek) and her drive back delayed by Lowell rush hour. Meanwhile, on
Saturday Christy came to retrieve her trailor -- which has been under our pines since April -- and she took
me out to breakfast at Babico's in Maynard. This was a particularly weird trip, since we walked there and
Maynardfest was going on -- the downtown triangle closed off to traffic, booths selling cheap trashy stuff
or high cholesterol entrees, and a little kiddie car train thing.
I then corrected and graded theory homework (which is phenomenally boring). I then remembered that the
folks at Door and Window told us beer was starting at Maynardfest at 3:30 -- so at the appointed time, I
walked to the Clock Tower parking lot, and encountered a popcorn machine and people holding styrofoam
cups at Door and Window. They offered me some beer in a styrofoam cup, and had to ask only once.
Meanwhile the owner said he could have gotten us a ladder at a wholesale price and we could go to him in
the future. And more beer came out. Eventually I went to Maynardfest, procured two spicy pumpkin ales on
draft, and brought them back -- whereupon I was asked how I got them out ("Walking," I said) -- they
hoped I wouldn't get arrested. Busted for having beer in a plastic glass! In any case, more beer was drunk,
and tipsiness caused me to return home. At which point I called Domino's for pizza and wings.
Sunday was more serious. It was a day of glorious weather, and occasionally I spent time on the hammock
-- but when I did that, the neighbor's dog Molly came up for some lovin', or some bones, or whatever, and it
was hard to get peace. So for most of the day I wrote music, interrupting myself only for hammock time or
the raking of fallen pine needles (2 whole barrels worth, woo hoo, ka-ching). When I saw what I had done,
I decided to do more of it -- eventually.
And then yesterday, even though it was Columbus Day, we did not have off, and I had been drafted to be on
a public panel for a Brandeis Open House about the Brandeis academic experience -- so when asked, I said
positive and true things about Brandeis. After which I did my usual teaching, followed by a dead hour and a
half (and it was 80 out), followed by a small meeting that was as important as it was deadly boring. If I ever
don't find these meetings deadly boring, somebody who reads this please come to my house and kick me
until you stop.
I was finally contacted about performance dates for my piano quintet at Stony Brook -- which, given how
long they've known about them, is pretty irresponsibly late. The dates are at the worst possible time -- just
before I go to Kansas -- meaning the possibility of missing three straight theory classes and three straight
orchestration classes -- not to mention the number of makeup composition lessons I'll have to give in
December. Anyway, see on my Performances page. A prospect of a commission for another piece also
showed up -- as in, performers and an amount were given -- and that certainly complicates the future. Will
Davy really be able to goof off in Vermont next August?
Oh yeah, a little feature on me 'n' the Barlow has been written for the next Brandeis Reporter. I had to vet
the information in it. And I still haven't thought at all about the Barlow piece. I will, Oscar, I will.
Meanwhile, no Sasquatch sightings this week. On the plus side, the Yankees were eliminated from the

playoffs.
When I wrote last week, our bulkhead doors were finally being installed. When they were done, they went
to the side porch roof to seal some cracks a little so the rain wouldn't leak through some wood, and they
advised that that roof should be replaced with a rubber roof -- and that they could install it. We believed
them, since Beff's dad told us years ago that we would need a rubber roof soon. I hope it's spongy. Anyway,
we get the estimate any day now. Meanwhile, we tested the bulkhead doors on Friday, and couldn't open
them. Yes, there is a latch underneath that needs to be released from the basement! Cool. And meanwhile,
we also did the yearly thing of raking down the hostas in the front yard and shaving them down with the
lawnmower. It was very outdoorsy.
Coming up this week -- Beff's dental appointment, and that's all I know about.
Today's pictures start with Christy's trailor as viewed from the computer room -- before and after. Then
there is Molly, as viewed from the hammock, the new bulkhead doors, the current state of the Ben Smith
dam, and our driveway maples as viewed from Taft Avenue.

OCTOBER 17. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner
was chunky chicken noodle soup. Lunch was the garden salad from Shapiro coffee shop. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 30.2 and 70.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS the slow movement of the Mozart clarinet concerto. LARGE EXPENSES this last week new cell
phones for both of us, $49 for mine plus accessories, free for Beff plus accessories; and a rubber roof,
$1621. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:During the summer after my freshman year at
college, I worked as a security guard for MSI, doing the graveyard shift at Jordan Marsh in Boston (now
Macy's). At the time it occupied an old 1900-era building and a new one tacked on, and we had to do
several nightly tours, turning keys in various key things around the building. I used to make free phone
calls from the executive offices, toss light bulbs down staircases, and generally do stupid things during
some of those tours. My colleagues would occasionally adjust clothing on mannequins pornographically.
How we stayed hired is a mystery to me. One colleague always changed into a new shirt at the end of his
shift, and later we found out they were all stolen. Years later, I ran into two of my bosses on the street,
invited them over, and they stayed until 2 in the morning. My pay at the time was $2.45 an hour, and when
the minimum wage went up to $2.60, the company actually advertised "15-cent per hour raise guaranteed
after two weeks". THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there enough rhetorical questions in the
world? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pimlo. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is the stiffness
of my jaw. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are real lemonade and limeade, and pouch pickles.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Root systems for the old crappola forsythias in back. THIS WEEK'S
NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Compositions, Recordings
(fixed links). NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY
THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is
34 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Everybody can
play "Martler". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,880. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $2.17. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE a way of describing the rain, the places we didn't look after we found it, the nonsticky beginning of a roll of scotch tape, the pickle nobody wanted.
Last week Martler had said something poetic about the speech thing, and silly stupid me, I forgot to
mention it here. The speech was, as those of you who are rolling your eyes now know, a source of great
stress -- even though it turns out I got a free glass vase out of it (it currently holds a stuffed bird). Martler
also had to give a speech when he got his professorship, and he had similar stress issues. The quote goes
something like: you put yourself on the line for your students week in and week out, and it's the bullshit
occasions that make you sweat. I think I'll have that embroidered onto a pillow.

Beside the usual teaching, many things have happened this week, and, dear reader, you came to right place
to find out about them. Say, on Wednesday night it rained so hard that water got into the basement, and
that's just for starters. After the rain ended, it was slightly drizzly and pleasant in the morning, and
whoomp! there it was -- sounds of people just outside the bedroom window. It turned out that the tar roof
we had over the side porch was, if you will, in its last throes -- and some wood was getting stained by rain
water because the gutter didn't handle it, etc., and years ago Beff's dad looked at it and recommended we
put a rubber roof over it. So there they were -- a bunch of whitish panels that I assume were the foundation
of the rubber roof (the estimate said "felt" was going underneath). The usual gang from MD&W were
working, and I had to aim around the truck when I left for work -- thus backing into traffic for the first time
in years. When I got back, there was a new edging and a black roof, all better. I haven't walked on it yet -would you?
And then that night Beff got in late, as she left late, and the next morning she went to the dentist for her
first appointment in 12 years. While she was under the lights, I went to Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, and
Sudbury Farms, and came back and had to wait another 45 minutes -- during which time I read in Forbes
magazine that cheap oil is coming back -- and we came home at around noon. Beff had to make
appointments for future work, and December was the first time both she and the dentist could get it
together. As to me, I go in this Friday for a few fillings. Meantime, my jaw is still rather stiff, either from
my appointments, or from some version of the cold or flu that has been making the rounds at Brandeis.
Somehow when I get into the classroom, I do fine and don't notice.
I spent most of the weekend finishing a piece, and in the interim times that I always need in order not to
become Wild Guy, I started taking out fairly substantial trunk systems from the overgrown area in the back
yard -- and for that I used a shovel. I also raked pine needles in the back yard, as it seems that most of them
that are going to fall have fallen -- at least there aren't many brown ones left on the pine trees. I decided to
create a bit of yard-art, raking a checkerboard area. Why? If I have to explain it, I won't be eligible for the
grant. This morning I raked more but have not yet disposed of the piles of needles -- but 4 barrels are so far
outta there.
During my copying time on Saturday, Beff nosed around the Verizon wireless site, noting that Bangor
seems to have passable digital service now (and all analog is going away by the end of next year anyway),
so she found that the phone I craved -- the VG Chocolate ('cause it has mp3 ring tones, etc.) is but 49 bucks
online with a service contract, and the Razor -- which Beff's sister has -- is free. So we established our
online accounts (the passwords came as text messages to our existing phones -- cute) and ordered new
phones. According to e-mails we received, they will be delivered tomorrow evening. And then we'll never
hear the end of it. My greatest desire, of course, is to play examples for my classes on my phone. Because
then I can write about it here.
We also finally downgraded our cable package. We had kept HBO and Showtime for the various shows we
watched, but as to Showtime, Weeds jumped the shark -- we had taken dinner to the living room and started
watching, and 5 minutes in had to stop. So I called and downgraded, and we now pay half as much and still
get to watch the Daily Show and Project Runway -- the only two shows we watch with any frequency
anyway.
Scheduling for my two pieces from Yaddo being premiered next month got really hard, then much easier.
Apparently the Kansas gig is being moved up because a makeup basketball game was scheduled the same
night as the concert, and that guaranteed zero attendance, so it's going a little later. And the Stony Brook
performances -- little did I know -- are not Wednesday and Friday, but Thursday and Saturday. Which
makes it much easier not to miss too much teaching, and certainly means I don't need to get substitutes for
theory (big relief there). In any case, it's the midwest, and that means that one week it was 100 degrees, and
the next week there was snow.
We also took our accustomed weekend walks, noting the foliage in the sunniness, and it was good. I even
used a camera to (shudder) document what we saw.
I was approached by a rock band (The Electric Kompany, has a page on My Space) with oodles of

technique to write for them, and when I said I was interested though I couldn't figure out when I would get
the time, they responded that they hoped for a piece for rock band and orchestra. Hmm. Very interesting
idea, the kind of challenge that I like -- even though any critic will presume the piece is "making a
statement about the intersection of high art and low art". The only intersection I care about is Sunset and
Camden, because you can name your cats by it. Meanwhile, a group in New Brunswick -- the one in
Canada -- is doing Beff's cat piece three times in January.
And we still love Inko's tea. Just in case Alex (of Inko's) is googling it. Though we can't get it at Trader
Joe's or BJ's any more.
Beff had brought back a little table from her dad's condo, and it has been installed right by the front door. I
predicted not long before it gets covered with clutter, but so far all that's there is the glass vase with the
stuffed bird, and, in the drawer, our stamps and T passes. You will, Oscar, you will.
With the new addition (you might find it on Compositions), my output for 2006 is very likely complete -unless I feel unusually good in December. To recap, 2006 witnessed the birth or completion of:
6 piano etudes (22 min)
3 hand drum pieces (10 min)
solo bass clarinet piece (6 min)
piano concerto (33 min)
piano quintet (14 min)
piece for fl/picc and two pianos (10 min)
TOTAL 95 minutes (I rule)
I did that to take up space. I always prefer the text to go on longer than the links on the left.
Upcoming: large rainstorm approaching for later today, dentist appointment, rakage, Faculty Senate
meeting, Curriculum meeting, Collage concert with Judy Bettina doing "The Head of the Bed" (Judy's
description of the voice part: a quarter rest is a siesta; a half rest is a whole vacation; a whole bar rest is a
summer vacation -- those are metaphors, for those of you taking notes). Don't know if we will go, but since
Collage wants me to write for her and them together, there may be a requirement.
This week's pictures begin with costumed folks at the door of St. Bridget's Catholic Church as we passed it
on our walk. Followed by the only available photographic evidence of my raking art in the back yard (Pawn
to Queen's four). The other six shots are various foliage shots from our walks.

OCTOBER 24. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner
was pizza slices from the music major meeting. Lunch was a garden salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THIS LAST WEEK: 31.6 and 68.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the "birds"
movement, with children's chorus, of Mahler's 3rd. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a new rug
from Pier One for the computer room, $80, new small rug and various others for downstairs at Target, $60.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:The house on Messenger Street in St. Albans had a pretty
long back yard, going downhill, and west, for quite a ways. The lot to our north was considered too small to
build on, so it was a long, somewhat narrow grassy field we played in a lot, and occasionally sledded in
(but only when there was snow). We had a regular back yard with a sandbox and swingset, interrupted by a
large garden area with raspberries and blueberry bushes, and a "way back" yard, where we as kids often
played little games of baseball or softball or football. There was also a small area of foresty stuff with
poison ivy -- which I found out does not affect me. When we grew too old (and/or large) for the way back
yard to be a baseball diamond (it wasn't that big), my father started keeping bees and making "organic"
honey. So we owned a hot knife. This of course made it less desirable to be the one mowing the way back
yard. I found out years later that the raspberry bushes were pilfered from a vacant lot nearby and planted in
lovely rows -- and one of my more egregious chores in the summer was picking a pint of them for dinner.
THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is Iran between Iraq and Ihardplace? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP

WORD: arnce. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is the stiffness of my jaw, still. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are garlic mash and pouch pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The
real source of all this dental stuff. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO
THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST
VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 4. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST
WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
WEEK: 5 (Rome Prize season). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 31
out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Katie Couric who?
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,882. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.13.
OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE insouicance, misdirected animosity, multisyllabism, a found object with a hole in it..
First, a silly report from the field from weeks ago. After a brief conversation in the car with Beff about
sound manipulation software, there was a slight pause, and Beff asked, "Have you tried Audacity?" Another
brief pause as we considered how the question would sound out of context. Then gales of laughter as I said,
"No, I thought righteous indignation would be enough".Actually, that's esprit d'escalier -- what I really said
was, "No, all I had was refrigeration". But that's not as funny.
Two of this week's larger topics will be mind-numbingly and eye-rollingly familiar to those of you in the
low two figures: raking, and dentistry. So I'll start with something else: cell phones. Our new cell phones
arrived, we charged and activated them, and started using them. Beff has the Motorola RAZR and I have
the VG Chocolate. Beff seems to have gotten the better end of the deal, even though on the surface hers is
less deluxe. Let me contextualize (because it is what I do so well).
Beff got to Maynard a day late, since she left a day late, and that meant having to make the weekend orgy
of togetherness and couple-osity even more intense than usual. A brief inspection revealed that the 6-yearold rug in the computer room had been rattinessed to its limit by years of cat scratching and playing with
the edges (a favorite game is taking the cap of a milk carton and placing it under something and batting it
around). So it was resolved that after breakfast would be a trip into the bowel area of South Acton, Great
Road, for the especiale beer store, Pier One, Trader Joes, and Staples. During breakfast, Beff activated her
new phone, which I had charged for her, and started discovering features -- though now having cursor keys
in addition to everything else steepened the learning curve. I actually challenged Beff to find a weather
report with her phone, but it took until later and a disquisition on cursor keys for that to happen -- by that
time we were IN the weather, so a report had redundancy written all over it written.
Beff started transferring her phone book (manually) while we were in the car, while I was amused at the
learning curve. We got some of Beff's weird French style beer that she likes and I don't, and some
experimental beers, then hopped over to Staples, where we got packing tape (more on that later) and I got
another flash drive for the office (so students would stop e-mailing me their Finale files from the grad
office down the hall). At Trader Joes we got what we needed, including a whole mess of microwave nonfrozen oriental noodles (alas, no salmon burger patties!), and then went to Pier One to find a new rug for
the computer room. The guy who waited on us seemed SO much like Actor Guy (or My Sales Job Is Only
Temporary So I Can Take Auditions Guy (except this is Acton)), who very, very, very enthusiastically got
us the rug we craved. From there we went over to O'Naturals for lunch, where Beff had the Alaska and I
had the Buffalo. At lunch we finally got a chance to compare cell phone features. Beff recorded me saying
"Hello, it's me!", and among her options was "Save As Ringtone". So now when I call her cell phone, she
gets my voice saying that over and over. Very cute (even when we're 80 we'll think that's cute -- and I'm
only the opus number of Dichterliebe now).
So I recorded Beff saying "Davy? Davy? Davy?" and can report that "Save As Ringtone" was NOT among
my phone's options. I did have the mysterious "Save to MyPix" command, though, which mysteriously
activated the browsing portion of my phone. I cancelled the upload. So Beff exuded superiority as she had a
new Ringtone of her own making and I had ... a sound in "My Sounds" on my phone. Back to this
mundanity later.
On the way back we stopped at the hardware store for rug tape and outdoor latex paint -- as with the new

rubber roof, the stained portion of the wood by the roof is no longer getting water on it, and needed cover
before it decayed. So there. I also got sandpaper to scrape off the old paint. Which, when we got home, I
did, after getting out the new ladder. So I sanded and painted the edging near the roof, and also scraped and
painted the large board under the porch door, which is already showing signs of rot (imagine brushing your
teeth and they simply fall out -- it was that sensation). And then I washed up. Also that morning and
afternoon we raked the front yard clean of leaves, as both front yard maples have emptied,and Beff did
Round One of raking the voluminous leaves out of the driveway. And we also replaced the computer room
rug, discovering no fewer than six cat toys underneath the old one.
Later that afternoon Beff looked at the little rug near the alcove -- 2 feet by 5 feet -- which no longer was
staying clamped down, and was getting messed up every day by the cats playing, and she decided to make a
trip to K-Mart for a new one. While she was gone, I revisited My Sounds on my phone to see what
uploading to "My Pix" would do. It brought my "Davy? Davy? Davy?" file to an area of Verizon Web that
required me to register and make up a password, which I did. It text-messaged me a password (thankfully
giving me the option for my phone to remember me), and that password was so complicated I had to switch
back and forth from letter entery to number entry mode several times. And finally, I found out that I had a
free space there with 75 slots, and "Davy? Davy? Davy?" was in one of them (It had a name something like
"109388749"). For the halibut, I chose the "send to my phone" option, and a screen came up telling me I
had a new message. Among the options for the new message was "Save as Ringtone". Yes! So now I can do
in five steps (record/upload/log in/send message/retrieve and save as ringtone) with my phone what Beff
can do in one. And of course we know why it is so hard on the Chocolate: Verizon prefers that you buy
ringtones, not make your own. I mean, duh. But despite Verizon's machinations to make me buy their stuff,
now when Beff calls my cell phone, it goes, "Davy? Davy? Davy?" I SO want to be in a faculty senate
meeting when she calls my cell....
Meanwhile, I am happy to report that the Chocolate phone is also an mp3/wma music player, and by
following directions scrupulously and having to use Windows Media Player, I was able to get ripped tracks
to play on my phone with a ten percent success rate. No long exegesis here, just a little note that most of the
tracks I ripped either did not copy to the phone, or when they were played they hung the phone, causing it
to reboot after a minute and a half. Meanwhile, I did get all my contacts updated to the new phone, and
there was a delightful and delicious little triage of old numbers no longer needed.
Another aspect of Saturday was sending the second toy piano -- which turned out to be defective, I had
toyed with keeping in my office, but it kept not working properly -- back to the manufacturer, and that
included a mandatory note as to what was wrong with the piano. In addition to "1) I cancelled the order and
was sent the piano anyway" I had five more numbered items. I am, if anything, thorough. Beff packed it up,
and I had been sent a label with prepaid UPS shipping. Hence the need to go to Staples to drop it off. And
we had no packing tape -- hence the packing tape thing.
Sunday featured yet more raking -- getting halfway up the driveway, part one, and the third go through the
back yard, as the pine needles just keep on coming -- and painting of windowsills around the house. Beff
called me Productive Guy that day, but I don't know why. Beff's trip to K-Mart had yielded nothing, so we
went to Target, down in Framingham, Sunday morning for the new rug, and of course we got other stuff,
including kitty treats, cold medicine, and Kleenex. Beff came down with considerable cold symptoms on
Sunday morning, so our planned outing for Collage didn't happen. Instead, of course, we stayed at home,
and I made pesto pasta for dinner. We took the scenic way home around Boon Lake from Target, by the
way, where I took this week's only picture of a "Tree On Fire". At least the camera takes nice pictures. And
oh -- I took a little video of me playing the toy piano and e-mailed it to Martler. While I was at it, I recorded
a lick from "Purple Haze" on the toy piano and made it my ringtone for when Amy D or Marilyn Nonken
call my cellphone. Which so far in my life has been never.
So to sum up: two new rugs. I haven't been counting, but about thirty or so barrels of leaves raked and
discarded. New painted wood. And colds. I also had flu symptoms on Wednesday, which caused me to stay
home, and move my Wednesday students to Thursday. As to music theory, that moved the syllabus to the
right by one, and also meaning that the unit on chorale writing will be shortened by one. I should get more
flus.

Friday morning was dental day, yet again (I have at least two more before the end of the term). I came in
with complaints of continuing stiff jaw and teeth that seemed to move a bit, etc., and the dentist finally had
a firm diagnosis: unbeknownst to me for the opus number of Dichterliebe years, I grind my teeth in my
sleep. Evidence: moving teeth especially in the morning, and an extremely even bite line. Meaning what
you think it means. So as a solution, the dentist said that after the upper reconstruction was done, she would
get me a "Nygar". I presumed it was a brand name for something, and I didn't mention yet that the dentist is
Chinese with a lingering accent. A few minutes of context revealed that she was talking about a "Night
Guard" designed to stop the grinding. Since I never had a retainer when I was a kid, I relish the idea of
playing catchup at the age of opus number of Dichterliebe years. Friday's job was three new fillings, upper
left, and observe as feeling comes back to the mouth over the course of the afternoon. For about half an
hour if you had asked me to say "President", I would have said "Pwesident". The new fillings made my bite
less even and -- get this -- harder for me to grind my teeth. I have, since Friday, started noticing how tense
the muscles in mouth are, and -- why didn't I think of this before? -- relaxing them. Alas, when the default
setting is tense, I have to actually remember to switch to manual to relax them. And to blatantly split
infinitives.
Monday's teaching was as it ever was, and I had a few zingers that are going into one student's Funny
Things the Faculty Say book. Common tone diminished seventh and the scwewy way the textbook has
them notate that ("cto7") was among the day's offerings, as was writing for violins in orchestration. And it
was one of those kinds of days I hate to have: a Drive To Work In The Dark And Drive Home In the Dark
day. Much more common in the cold months, of course. While at school I discovered that the new Brandeis
Reporter (a monthly publication) has the Barlow story and my picture on the front page. The picture is the
crapful one on my Brandeis web page, so I spent some time adding moustaches and diabolical eyebrows to
my picture on however many copies I had time for. I gave a signed copy of one of them to the Provost's
secretary.
A raking party with the Ka-Ching Twins looks like it won't happen, due to schedule difficulties, but a
raking party with at least one of them looks pretty certain. Alas, I am a Guest Sneaker on a Composers in
Red Sneakers concert on the 4th, so the likelihood of much wevelwy after waking seems remote. But the
raking is a sure thing.
Judah Adashi from Yaddo (say that five times fast) e-mailed a little while ago to remind me that I have put
words to Mel Torme's Christmas Song that teach intervals (this started when I was a grad student, as I
remember Kathy Dupuy singing it back to me), and he wanted them because he teaches ear training in
Baltimore (the detail about the location was gratuitous, but, well, there you have it). So here they are, you
lucky low two figures:
(VERSE) Octaves roasting on an open fire.
Major sixths nipping at your nose.
Major seconds being sung by a choir,
Chromatic alterations of the scale.
Diatonic Scale
(VERSE) A turkey and some mistletoe.
Major sixths make the season bright.
Major seconds with their eyes all aglow
Will find it hard to sleep tonight.
(BRIDGE) There's minor sevenths on their way.
They've loaded lots of toys and goodies on their sleigh.
And every minor sixth will want to spy
To see if reindeer really know how to fly.
(VERSE) And octaves offering this simple phrase
To major sixths one to ninety-two.
Although it's been said many times, many ways,
Meet the Flintstones
To you.

I have also made my plans for the upcoming November traveling to performances -- including Stony Brook
and NYC for the 8th through 11th, and Kansas City for the 14th through the 18th. Turns out Geoffy will be
a housesitter while I'm in Kansas, and the kitties will be in Bangor. Life is like that. I stay with Jay and
Marilyn the 10th and 11th, and deliver the toy piano. Airfare -- about $220, and I have one-stop no-planechange flights the pass through Milwaukee. Meanwhile, my next dentistry is November 2 -- upper right,
and Night Guard fitting.
Oh yeah, and Geoffy weighed in with a variant of the Oedipus joke from my speech. Turns out -- there's no
"I" in "Homer". No points for adding, "well, no USEABLE 'I'".
Today's menu: a boatload of grading. This week's activities: raking, and the Irving Fine concert Sunday
afternoon. This week's only picture is a maple tree we passed while returning from Target on Sunday
morning.

HALLOWEEN. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner
was Buffalo wings from Neighborhood Pizzeria. Lunch was a garden salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THIS LAST WEEK: 28.8 and 62.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Chaka
Khan's "Be-Bop Medley" LARGE EXPENSES this last week include Symphony tickets, $30, a pair of
Edirol R-09 digital recorders from Parsons Audio, $733 including tax, data cards for digital recording,
$210, and pending tree removal costs later today, $490. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I
was singing in the concert of the chorus my senior year of high school, and the song was "Fum, fum, fum."
Somehow Christmas tends to bring out the nonsense syllables in all of us, fa la la. At one particularly
emphasized passage, my voice broke kind of dramatically, and I smiled real broadly, almost laughing, and
this seems to have caught fire around the whole chorus. By the end of the song, everyone was on the verge
of riotous laughter, though most admitted they didn't know why. On the previous year's chorus concert,
Todd Leadbeater -- not a musician, but recently discovered he had a nice voice -- was given the solo for
"The Holly and the Ivy" (no nonsense syllables in that one), and at the concert itself, instead of singing the
melody for his solo, he sang one of the inner parts from earlier in the tune. That made me smile, too. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why can't I see wind? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: ploof.
THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are straw men on New Music Box. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: are Bubbie's pickles, chili olives from Whole Foods, and celery sticks with Buffalo wing
sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Lots of rot in the innards of our former big ailanthus tree. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances,
Recordings. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO
FAR: 4. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none, but their "catnip
pillow" is taking a beating. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST WEEK: 4 (Rome Prize season continues). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC
this week is 39 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE:
Republicans stop using Abe Lincoln as an example of their compassion. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 9,915. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.13. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE Ted's baseball cap,
that one no the one behind it, fly fishing bait, a reduced flow due to drought.
This week originally had "skip the update for a week, nothing happened" written all over it -- unless stories
of raking are your cup of tea (they are most certainly my cup of tea), but then this silly storm cranked up
over New England, brought pounding rain (on another day I would have said "driving" rain, but that's just
me) for a day, and big winds for three days. That by itself is not news, but the result of the big winds is -especially as it interfered somewhat with my Monday teaching day.
With the clocks turned back an hour, it is now light again when I leave for work (6:15 am), so I was able to
see this when I stepped out my door on Monday morning (this pic was taken with the cell phone):
Decoupage

Of course the first thing I thought was -- as soon as I get back from work, I'll take the hacksaw out and cart
the pieces to the discard pile. Then the little buzzer ("the judges have flagged that statement for spurious
and frankly silly reasoning") went off in my head, informing me that I had to call in professionals to do the
job. Especially since when I looked at the pictures I had taken with my phone (I can take pictures with my
phone), the size of the trunk seemed a bit -- vast -- and a little bit more than my hacksaw could manage. So
I brought various yellow pages's to school and looked up TREE companies, and the selection is a bit vague
and vast at the same time. One wonders what sort of aspersions are meant to be cast on OTHER tree
companies when one of them advertises "phone calls handled by our own staff!" and another advertises "24
hour service" right next to "we actually return your phone calls". My experience with trying to get a
plumber several years ago colored this experience -- as none of the local ones bothered to return calls -- and
also my experience with roofers (you probably already guessed that they didn't return phone calls either,
but add to that that the one that did provided a quote and promised to come on a particular day to do the
work and never showed up and never called to say why).
So I called our friends at the Door & Window for their advice, and they recommended Assabet Tree Service
-- the only one right in Maynard. They actually called back while I was teaching theory (I didn't hear it),
and sent guys over to look at the thing just before sunset (it's early now). First the guys spun a story about
how they trimmed the giant oak tree in the neighbor's yard in the early 70s, and how a previous owner of
the house had a bad bicycle accident out front on Great Road and they were the ones that rushed him to the
hospital, and one of the guys noted how much ugly rot there was in the trunk of the fallen tree. I noted that I
always hated that ailanthus tree -- it once yielded a big branch in a thunderstorm in the summer of 2001 that
I had to take a day off from MacDowell to clear out, and that I took great pleasure in killing all of its
babies. Looks like it had its revenge. Or maybe all the baby killing caused its innards to rot from self-pity.
Who knows?
Anyway, there is a cousin tree that sprouted up in the midst of our cedar trees in the back that I also asked
them to remove. I hate paying for the sins of previous owners, but, hey, there you have it. Whether they
actually show up today to do the job remains to be seen, but hey, they came right over.
The rest of the posting will be the mundane stuff -- though there were two excellent concerts to report.
Saturday night after the driving rain had ended but the wind was still a-kickin', we went to symphony to
hear the BSO and Tanglewood chorus do Schoenberg's Moses und Aron. We had "partial view" seats in the
second balcony (hey, thirty bucks each) and I got a little sore neck from craning it in the first act, but we
switched seats for the second act, and that was better. The performance was marvelous, though the first two
scenes were kind of rough around the edges, and the music was great -- except, again, for the first two
scenes. Beff remarked that there are lots of great orchestrational ideas that appear ONCE, followed by lots
of what Marty B. calls "spinach" -- lots of extra counterpoint -- and lots of times when all the registers are
active, which makes for a feeling of tremendousness. One left with the feeling that it was really great music
that deserves lots more performances. One also wonders if any humans that ever existed would be able to
last through an entire performance if Schoenberg had ever written the third act. Lots of tuba, by the way.
That is neither good nor bad.
Sunday afternoon was the annual Irving Fine concert, and this year it also doubled as a celebration of Marty
Boykan at 75. It was an interesting pairing, and based on the music performed, Marty is the great composer
and Fine was a lightweight. Much of the Fine was, frankly, dreary, and when it wasn't it was extremely light
-- as in the Music for Piano suite. By the way, that same Fine piece was on the previous Fine concert, so
redundancy was there to be had. As to Marty's music, there was a new motet for singer, viola, cello and
clarinet, and it was terrific -- even tonal at times, and a new piano trio that I liked, but not as much as the
motet. The students in orchestration class really liked the trio, even asking how the high violin note at the
end was produced, and that led to my session on how harmonics work on string instruments, which I
demonstrated on a piano string while they all gathered around.
I also really liked Professor Boykan's Shakespeare songs for 3 voices a cappella, which were real nifty in
addition to being beautiful. In the program note, Marty appeared to apologize for setting the words "Cock a
doodle doo", but hey, it's Shakespeare. Add to this a set of songs for voice and piano which were very good,
but -- since I have to have a least favorite, that was the one -- and Boykan pretty much pounded Fine right

into the ground. Which is too bad. Especially since I was sitting right in back of a sector of the Fine family.
I was also sitting, just like ducks in a row, with Dalit Warshaw, Peter Child, Yu-Hui Chang, and Jim Ricci
(the non-Sasquatch version). Afterwards there was a reception where the food compensated for its quality
with its quantity.
Beff's time in Maynard was, again, abbreviated, but this time toward the tail end. She made it in late on
Thursday evening, and had to exit after breakfast on Sunday in order to do various prep things and lead a
sectional rehearsal -- as well as go to an afternoon concert. The previous weekend we were looking at
reviews in Mac Addict, and started drooling over a review of the Edirol R-09, and small iPod sized digital
recorder -- which got raves. It was reputed to record mp3 and 16/24 bit WAV files, all onto flash memory.
Meaning, at last, no DAT tape to get caught in the bowels of the recorder, no special setup with an 838 to
get the recorded files on the computer, and a solid state recording mechanism meaning no tape drive noise
and -- built-in microphones. How much would YOU pay? I called up Rick Scott at Parsons Audio to ask
what he knew about the market for hand-held recording devices of this sort, and he offered to lend me an
Edirol and an M-Wave model. So after my dull meeting at Brandeis, I drove there, got the goods, and
brought them home.
Sunday morning after breakfast, we compared features, and decided to ask Rick to order us two Edirols. He
said he had them in stock, and we decided to come right on by -- after our big walk downtown and our
lunch at the Quarterdeck (I got the grilled salmon). They were far cheaper than expected -- and I popped
right on over to Staples for some SD cards onto which to record, and SD cards were two-thirds off that day.
Yes, the 1 gig was 20 bucks and the 2 gig was 40 bucks not bad considering they are endlessly reusable,
and a gig holds 88 minutes of 16-bit stereo sound. So I got a whole mess o' them. I also got a little camera
bag to carry it around, but it turns out it's a bit small. Beff got a bigger one online, and we'll see Oscar, we'll
see.
And, big relief to all readers, there is nothing new to report on the dental front. Except to report new fillings
expected on Thursday.
An internet surf reveals that Jim and Judy's late 20th century American song CD on Bridge is imminent -catalog number 9199, on the Bridge web page, and slated for November -- and is renamed "Songs and
Encores". Much catchier than the original "Late Twentieth Century American Song". And then yesterday I
got what is apparently my ONE comp of Michael Lipsey's hand drum CD on Capstone, which has two
movements from Snaggle on it -- see Recordings page. Michael's CD is pretty cool, definitely a car CD,
even a convertible car CD. Maybe I'll buy a convertible just so I can listen to this CD in it.
Anyway, all else is as it appears. Mondo traveling for performances is coming up -- NYC and Kansas City
being among them -- so maybe there will be fewer updates here. The future holds big raking day with KaChing twin CD on Saturday, the evening of which features me as a guest sneaker (or hopefully a geist
sneaker). And then they won't laugh.
This weeks pictures include Symphony Hall as seen by my phone, the cats being cute, the cats being cute
again, the still-leafy oak tree that was trimmed in the early 70s, Cammy trolling for squirrels (note that the
ailanthus is still upright in this picture), a reflection of foliage on my car at the Cumberland Farms gas
station, and two more perspectives on the fallen tree.

NOVEMBER 7. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner
was an Amy's frozen tomato and four cheese pizza, heated up. Lunch was Trader Joes Kung Po noodles.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 24.8 and 67.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Ein Feste Burg ist Unsre Gott (chorale harmonization time in theory, people).
LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none, yet. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: A few
vignettes from the year in Rome: Robert Cro and I went to an electronics store on the Lungotevere to buy
boomboxes for ourselves, and I was impressed to hear him utter "possiamo", the first person plural of "can
we". My boombox became a social center for Tuesday dance parties in my various studios, and the
highlight was always when John Kamitsuka danced. In February, an architecture Fellow brought a family

friend to visit my studio -- a very tall woman and a guy. I did a little piano blues with the guy, while the
woman seemed stuck in perpetual bummed outness. The woman was Famke Janssen, who was in Rome
publicizing the latest James Bond movie, and the guy was her publicist. And now Famke is famous. In
June, after an AAR concert that was on my birthday on which Soozie sang, we stayed up a long time while
Soozie played pool and bonded with my best friend there, a Doctor Rutherford. Now it turns out these
many years later that Soozie and Dr. R are a genuine item. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why
do slowing up and slowing down mean the same thing? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crantle.
THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are robo-calls -- political messages left on my answering
machine. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are chili olives from Whole Foods. DISCOVERY
OF THE WEEK When a bush becomes half a bush. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2.
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK:
0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 5. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS
THIS LAST WEEK is another one of my morning pills. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3 (Rome Prize season was extended this year). DAVY'S
BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 12 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: everybody speaks with a Brooklyn accent. PHOTOS IN
MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,932. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.13. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a
hustle and flow, the hair on my chinny chin chin, purpleness, carpal tunnel syndrome.
It was a fairly active week, and it's only going to get activer and activer. Indeed, there will be no November
14 update, and the November 21 update will be a little late. Perhaps not until Thanksgiving. Oh, lawdy.
But first to dispense with the mundane. Thursday featured me teaching Peter and Derek in my office, a
drive west to Dr. Chau's office, and me keeping my mouth open for two hours. Hey, last time I got
something to bite on to keep my mouth open, but this time I guess they thought I should go au natural -- in
terms of the being of mouth openness. For them what are keeping score -- as I do above -- this was my fifth
visit this term, and this time it was upper right time. I got something I wasn't expecting -- dental bonding on
my chipped front tooth, which now feels weird, since it's fixed, AND smooth at the bite line. Then, three
new fillings to replace the ones that fell out and still had residual epoxy. Eww.
I have to say, though, slowly it's getting better. Slowly.
After the dentist I had to hightail it to Brandeis for a colloquium by Fran Richard of ASCAP, which was
really quite good. I was 25 minutes late, but there she was, seated at a chair, going over all the mundane
professional stuff that composers need to know, and pulling out lots of great stories. Names got dropped
casually in service of stories about performing rights (if you can believe that), and it was all fascinating.
Then there was the reception, Fran called me such a good composer, and left. No free dinner, which I
wouldn't have gone to anyway due to the strangeness of the feeling of my new bonding.
Tuesday had featured quite a bit of raking on my part, especially as The Maids were supposed to come and
clean, and they were very late. They showed up at quarter to five, which was dusk, and to get out of their
way, I raked the side yard. And raked. And raked. Then I raked in the back yard. And raked. It had turned
out that the tree people didn't come on Tuesday, so I could only rake to the tree line, as it were, but it was
good to get it out of the way. What else did I do Tuesday? Lots of grading.
On Wednesday the tree finally got taken care of, leaving a shallow trench where it had fallen, and the tree
guys left some ruts with their big truck and wood chipper -- and they didn't quite finish the job before it got
dark. The big ailanthus is gone, the other ailunthus was felled but not complete disposed of, and the trunk is
not yet ground (grinded?). The guys were still here when I got home from work, one of them asked for a
drink, and when I had to admit that I teach music, he got into stories about his guitars, and former
girlfriends that took them with them.
Friday was our usual day of togetherness, that wife o' mine and me, and we did our usual errands and
shopping. We probably won't accumulate enough Shaw's "turkey points" for a free turkey, but that is okay.
The end of the day was long, as it included going to the BMOP concert and the reception thereafter at the

Westin Hotel -- so we drove in via the turnpike and parked at the Prudential Center in a vast underground
network -- vast enough to make Beff regret the clacky shoes she chose for the occasion. We budgeted extra
time, since it was rush hour on a Friday, and were able to get a small meal at Betty's Wok and Noodle, in
the space that was Ann's Restaurant during my undergrad years (99 cents for a burger and fries, and now I
really feel old), and we made it in plenty of time for the concert.
The program for BMOP was reusable -- as in, the January program and program notes were in it as well as
the ones for this concert, and at the staple were the notes for my Winged Contraption. Including quotes
from this webpage (me talking about myself, alas -- I have to start charging for people to use them) and
from my hastily scrawled notes on the piece. Crap, I used "I decided" three times in the same paragraph.
Where's an editor when you really need one? I was astonished, however, to learn that I am "one of the most
exuberant and popular personalities on Boston's new music scene". I had no idea. The concert itself,
seemed to be the Downward Glissando concert -- if your piece didn't have them, you couldn't join the club.
The performances were excellent. We hooked up with the Hyla team for the reception, which was the usual
standing around wondering who everybody else there is, with the desperate search for food that turns out to
be tiny, and sectioned. In the walk to the reception, Beff continued to regret her shoeware choice. The drive
back was effortless, though the exit from the parking garage was in a no man's land that took some effort
for us to get out of.
The day of Saturday was Raking Party day, and the JP sector of the Ka-Ching Twins came out for the
occasion. We raked all of the way back and the side yard, and Carolyn (ka-ching!) had herself
photographed with a piece of ailanthus that is shaped like a lute, and forgot to send it in time for this
update. For shame. We then decided to try the new restaurant called Christopher's in Maynard, where
Malcom's Steakhouse failed dismally, but they weren't open for lunch -- talk about failing dismally. So
instead it was Not Your Average Joe's in Acton, followed by a brief trip to TJ Maxx. Then it was off the the
Red Sneakers Concert in Cambridge. Sigh.
And this involved driving to Alewife, walking from Porter Square in the coldness, getting to the concert,
listening to a bunch of pieces, seeing a whole bunch of Brandisians (I think we had a quorum -- we could
have voted anybody off the concert), and even Ken Ueno. Who was briefly in town, from Rome, for a
board meeting and something to do with lectures and presentations in Miami. Don Hagar was also a "Guest
Sneaker" (I already used the "Geist Sneaker" joke last week, so I won't use it again this week, except to
point out how clever I am for having thought of it). My teeny-weeny piece got a bang-up performance. My
favorite piece (not necessarily Beff's) was the second movement of Lansing McLoskey's piece. And then
we went back home.
Sunday Beff left early in order to rake the Bangor yard, and I spent most of the day preparing the next three
weeks' worth of teaching -- chorale harmonizations, etc. It's amazing how many things have to be codified
as "rules" to keep your basic student from just doing dumb stuff. And Monday was a normal teaching day,
though since I was introducing percussion in Orchestration, there was lots of stuff to talk about. For the first
time I tried doing the Trader Joe's Kung Po noodles as my lunch, and I was successful.
Meanwhile, it's time to solicit house/cat sitters for the two weeks that follow Christmas, so anyone reading
this can step up to the plate ... now! Beff 'n' I will be in England, Wales and Scotland, and you won't. Unless
you are.
Meanwhile. This Thursday I go to Stony Brook, and so far I haven't the foggiest idea where to go once I get
there. I will also stay with the Jay/Marilyn couplet in NYC, as I am delivering to Marilyn a toy piano for
future use. And Saturday night at the Tenri Center is the second performance of the aptly named Disparate
Measures. If that ain't enough, I then leave for Kansas, via Milwaukee, next Tuesday. My goodness, and
goodness had nothing to do with it. Once I get back it will be almost Thanksgiving, and time to think about
turkeys, and a convocation of all of Beff's siblings. Yes, I get to watch those mini-dramas unfold yet again.
While I am in Kansas, Beff will be in Vermont, helping to empty the condo of stuff, and also bringing
books being donated to Norwich University. Gee, you think if they really wanted the books, they'd come
and get them themselves, but no -- Beff actually is renting a cargo van in Maynard and driving it there and
back. I fully expect some new furniture out of this whole deal. And there's more -- while I'm in Kansas,

Geoffy is here for Musica Viva (officially the Group That Doesn't Know How Exuberant and Popular Davy
Is), so catsitting is taken care of.
And what else? After Thanksgiving is just a week and a day of classes. At the end of the tunnel, there is
heavy.
I have not been keeping track of how many barrels of leaves have been raked and moved, but I estimate 70
to 80, and the mini-yard in the back of the garage still awaits the oak tree to yield the rest of its issue. The
big wind storm that knocked down the ailanthus likely blew a few barrels worth of leaves away, then.
Pictures this week are really dull, so I'm instituting a Blast From the Past feature. Which may only last for
one update as far as I know. We see the backyard with the tree cleared out and the bush that's now half a
bush -- a larger view from the way back yard -- the stump as it exists now -- and the place where we put the
raked leaves in the way back yard. Then there is Martler at a garden statue shop in 1988, and a lion at the
Piazza di Popolo in Rome that Beff uses as an example of clarinet embouchure.

NOVEMBER 20. Breakfast this morning was coffee from McDonald's. Lunch was a little box of Kung Po
noodles from Trader Joe's. Dinner was Chunky Grilled Chicken soup with salad. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 34.5 and 67.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I
TYPE THIS Absofunkinlutely. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include dinner and Corsendonks with
Jay and Marilyn, $149, lunch with Hayes, $40, lunch with Marilyn, $55. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: Back in our Princeton grad student days, Andy Milburn had a Commodore 64 with a
voice synthesis program -- pretty primitive by today's standards. We delighted in attaching it to the TV and
making it say things in its ... well, robotic ... voice. We played a game with Martler and Alison where we
would type things with numbers in them to hear the computer pronounce them: 4nik8, qui9, 6ual, etc. -and Alison topped us all with 0ber took my jewels (zero-bber took my jewels, think French accent).
Eventually we recorded our answering machine message using this thing, which included the robotically
spoken phrases "Davy is bouncing on his bed. Martin is doing limey things". Paul Lansky thought it was so
funny that he used to call us just to hear the message -- and then he would leave a message saying, "Oh, it's
Lansky again. I just called to hear the message. Hee hee." Dunno why he didn't just hang up. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many pins will fit on the head of an angel? THIS WEEK'S MADEUP WORD: cirren. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are not being with my STUFF. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are celery with Buffalo wing sauce, single size packets of microwave
popcorn, Real Pickles, water with powdered citrus twists. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Flatness and
rolling hills both on Long Island and Kansas. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 19 (I
broke the rules). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Recordings. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 5. FRAGILE
THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is the back of my computer chair, actually
accomplished over about a four year period. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 7 (and still no Guggenheim letter requests). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR
THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 65 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Republican presidents and vice presidents understand the phrase "you lost".
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,946. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.37 in
Stony Brook, $2.34 on the Merritt Parkway, $2.23 at the local Mobile station. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a personal
anecdote, fifteen of the widest cantaloupes in the field, intransigence, the big thing we haven't given a name
yet.
The big news, of course, is that as of yesterday afternoon, this year's raking is finished, for all intents and
purposes -- though I may go over the apple tree yard a bit later to clean out some accumulated detritus.
Yesterday (Sunday) Beff and I spent time hauling away the issue of the neighbor's big oak tree, which is
always last to give it up. I did not keep a running tab of barrels raked this year, but I think it stopped around
90. Compare that with 104 last year, and we see the effect of the big windstorm that knocked down the

ailanthus.
It is just short of two weeks since I last posted, and here I affirm that I am writing in the first person
singular (synchronize your grammars). Two extensive trips happened in the interim, as well as plenty of
driving, flying, being driven, listening, etc. In the middle of all that, I was informed that BBC Radio 3 was
broadcasting a recording of the American music concert by Lontano from last May, with commentary, and
that it would be available in streaming audio on its website for a week thereafter. Well, I was curious, and
when I got to the site, I discovered that a bunch of composers were in front of me on the concert, I was an
hour and fifteen minutes into the program, and there was no way to scroll or fast forward into it. So one
night I just let it play, turned down the sound, and set an alarm. After about an hour, I checked on it, and it
was in the middle of some deadly boring Virgil Thomson choruses. Ten minutes later I saw the message
"network timed out. Probably congestion". When I clicked OK, the program started again FROM THE
BEGINNING. So I didn't get to hear it. I did check the user comments online, though, caught someone
asking who these Americans were, a user mysteriously named "Martle" piped in that Rakowski was pretty
good, and someone else reported on all the composer websites -- including one saying that "Rakowski's
website includes what he ate on November 7. Apparently he likes to share". Oh, those great unwashed.
Literally.
Much was going on in the actual classroom teaching, although nothing at all was going on in my Thursday
composition lessons -- being that I was away both Thursdays. One is being made up tomorrow, another on
Wednesday, and both again during exam week. So there, smarty pants. It was chorale writing in theory, and
percussion and harp in orchestration. Meanwhile, as much could be done as could be done about that which
was done.
So first, a week ago Thursday I drove to Stony Brook starting at 6:45 in the morning, and arrived around
noon. There were four major delays on the Hutchinson Parkway, and then a major tie-up exiting 95 for the
Throg's Neck, but everything else was okay. It's a four and a half hour drive that was stretched into a
stupidly long one. I followed Perry Goldstein's directions to campus and went to the parking garage where I
was directed to park, which was marked FULL. After a bit of help, we made our way to the alternate lot, I
did some e-mail, we had lunch with Bob Gibson (so good in the 1967 World Series, dontcha know), and I
went to my hotel, paid for by Stony Brook. It was a Holiday Inn Express with a lot of amenities, none of
which I had time to do. Swim? Not me. Have a conference? Not me. Go to the bathroom? Definitely me.
So I then made it in to hear a rehearsal, got there a little early, and saw Rich Festinger -- also with a piece
on the concert, and whom I had to direct to the hall ("that way", I said). I then got to hear my rehearsal, and
the players were really good -- I just had to make small comments and explain the thrown bow notation (I
forgot to say the first time around what it meant), and the performance was stunningly good -- even though
I wanted the finale to go faster. Afterwards at the reception, the players kept asking me what else I wanted
that they could do, and I said all I wanted was beer.
The day after, in the morning, I checked out and drove into Manhattan, parking near the apartment of Jay
and Marilyn, in the 112th Street garage. I had to deliver a Schoenhut toy piano (Model 6637MB) to
Marilyn, and she was going to be in her office at NYU all day, so I had packed light -- all I had was the toy
piano and a few clothes in a backpack. I cabbed my way to Marilyn's building, and she had said to call her
cell phone when I got in. Naturally, it was off, since I got there about 45 minutes early. So I stood at the
door to the building with the toy piano on the sidewalk, fielding comments and questions from innocent
passersby ("Gift"? "Boy or girl?" "Does she know she's getting it?" "Can you PLAY that?"). Soon Marilyn
let me in, we set up the toy piano, and went to the Bowery Bar for lunch. I paid. We both ate. I then spent
some time at bookstores and Tower Records before hopping back uptown with Marilyn for dinner with her
and Jay. And dine we did. As is usual, we broke out the Corsendonk at the Abbey Pub, and unfortunately
they no longer have the "every fourth one free" policy.
The next day I had lunch with Hayes in Chelsea, played with his cats, saw Susan, and went back uptown,
picked up Jay, and we both went to a vegetarian restaurant near the Tenri Center for dinner. It was good.
The show itself was even better -- the Tenri Center being small, I had a seat very close to the players -- I
was cleaning rosin out of my nose at intermission from the viola's bow, and I got to see harp pedaling
action up close for the first time. There were a whole bunch of friends and former students there (some of

them both) like Jim and Judy (with whom I sat), Spencer Schedler, Rick Carrick, and "Not" Adam Marks.
My performance was yet mo' betta, and the Gibson and Festinger pieces sounded quite good this close.
Sophie, the pianist, informed that my piece would be on her recital after Thanksgiving, and I solicited a
recording from that, too -- not as if I have recordings yet from either performance. She also gave me Rich
G's Christmas album, which I treated as an earring for a little while. Jay and Marilyn and I cabbed it back
uptown, we stopped for a beer, and went to bed. Next morning I drove off to Maynard before the predicted
rainstorm hit.
All that while Beff was at a computer music conference in Utica, New York, and met some of our favorites
-- Brian Bevelander, for starters -- and she also just barely beat the approaching rainstorm. Which
eventually gave us stormy rain. So for the half day that we actually got to see each other that weekend, we
had a fire in the fireplace, and I made salmon burgers from patties I got at Whole Foods. Yes!
The Tuesday that followed was the day for Kansas. I set the alarm for 3:30, since I was being picked up at
4:15 for a 6:35 flight. Geoffy had gotten in late the night before, since he was in town for Musica Viva
concerts again, but we did not interface at all. I got up at 3:30, and at about 3:40 as I was in the shower, the
phone rang. I hopped out and dripped all over everything, but did not answer it in time. I heard on the
answering machine, "This is Orbitz. Your six .... thirty-five ... flight to ... Kansas City .... is on time". They
had to CALL me? At such an ungodly hour? With a houseguest trying to get some sleep? Crap, Orbitz is off
my list for future bookings. Anyway, I made it to Kansas City on the very nice Midwest Airlines (leather
seats! No first class! Cookies!) with a stop in Milwaukee (an "airport that makes up for its lack of amenities
with its lack of charm"), and Mary Fukushima was right there to pick me up (I gave her my energy bar
from the plane). I had wondered about Midwest's schedule -- since all FOUR of my flights backed away
from the gate about ten minutes before the scheduled departure time -- but nobody complained, and all the
flights were full except the last one back to Boston. Anyway, Mary took me through the flatness and
expanse of the midwest to the Cambridge of Kansas, that liberal bastion Lawrence, and to the home of
Dave and Gunda Hiebert -- avid music department supporters, and with beautiful Asian sculptures and
structures in and around their house, and a bed on which I got some really sound sleep. At this point I met
Mike (Kirkendoll) and Nathanael (May), the pianists, for the first time. I had already met Mary, playing the
flute and piccolo part -- for she was the one driving. Duh.
And I was set up to do a thinly-spread residency -- from watching rehearsals and concerts to much dining at
the expense of others (it averaged four meals a day), to doing a composer masterclass to talking in an
orchestration class. One thing that was a little hard to get used to at first was NOT being in a place where
"composer" and "band composer" are two different things (that, and when passing strangers and your eyes
meet, they smile at you or even say hi). And one thing that was NOT hard to get used to was having
excellent performers to play my piece, at least a time zone away from New York.
Anyway, I got taken to the 75th Street Brewery for lunch by Jim Barnes because I expressed a hankerin' for
buffalo wings -- and emerged with just a hint of Southern accent. I then got to hear a rehearsal, and the
piece already sounded quite good -- I mostly just made comments about balance and a few things about
phrasing. I was sorry that the pianists had to go to so much trouble to deal with the inside the piano stuff -but unlike other non-New Yorkers, they didn't complain. Not even once. The Guinness book of sports
records was used to prop the sostenuto pedal up for Nathanael, and it was the job of the page turner to kick
it away when it was no longer needed. I'm sure there's a joke there, but I'd rather make fun of Berlioz.
Hanging out was also David Fedele -- now the flute teacher there -- who recorded Sesso e Violenza during
his New York days, and who returned for the encore performance by the Columbia Sinfonietta a year and a
half ago (I have pictures), and it was good to reconnect. And make fun of his early 90s promo photo evident
in the department. David made lots of appearances, and it was always cool to see him. We did dinner at
Indo's with Forrest Pierce, the new junior composer there -- who seems to be making things run really well,
at least in terms of the new music ensemble (it is called "Helios" -- or sunflower, as in, Kansas, the
Sunflower State) and ... well, standards -- and he is what they call vertically advantaged. After some sort of
show, we made a brief appearance at the Free State Brewery, since Gregg had recommended it, and I had an
amber. And it was good, brother. Meanwhile, Mary gave me a Kansas Jayhawks big spongy glove and a
Kansas Jayhawks frisbee -- I was never to be seen without the glove.

The next day there was lunch at the student union with the piano faculty, who were there explicitly to be
shown my etudes. And show them I did, using a Combo-Pak of all 74 (it was agreed that that was a bit
many all at once), and there was more rehearsing. The Crumb Music for a Summer Evening was on the
show, and beautifully done, though I was falling asleep during it and remembering why I never really got
interested in his music during my undergraduate years (it was said he wrote the same piece over and over,
and I couldn't find many grounds for disagreement). That said, it had lots of beautiful stuff -- though the
slide whistle duet played into the pianos was almost comically dumb -- and the ending came off beautifully.
The concert itself had been scheduled at the same time the KU basketball team -- ranked #3 nationally -was playing Oral Roberts University, and as it turned out, while the new music was being done, KU got its
but soundly kicked (or kickly sounded), and that probably made it easier to get into bars that night. The
concert started with a Rzewski piece that was very fun and not at all deep or pretentious, and followed with
the Crumb, which sounded even better. After intermission came me, and boy did things click -- listening to
the recording, I am actually quite astonished at her nice piccolo sound, which she kept trying to say she
didn't have much of, and her control of the harmonics in the final section. David Fedele said the piece was
better than Sesso e Violenza, but of course it is only half as long. So I didn't have to try as hard. The concert
ended with a Messiaen Oiseaux Exotiques, and it came off very, very well, and finally seemed to be as
funny as Messiaen intended. Poor Mike was in every piece, and he had to cram on this piece before the
concert. And Mary was the piccolist in the group, and I noticed from my poor vantage point that Mary was
the only one in the group whose head moved and bobbed with the musical gestures -- as if she was really
playing the music. And Mike either learned the part really well, or faked it incredibly. Afterwards, much of
the group went to Old Chicago restaurant, which had lots of beers on tap. And I had some.
And by the way, you can click on the red links above to hear the performance and see the score. This offer
holds only for a week.
Then was the business of earning my keep. I spoke to a general music gathering on Thursday morning,
introduced by Forrest, and played a bunch of stuff. And I did masterclass in the afternoon, which had a few
priceless moments -- first, Beff called me and my cell phone was on, so it played her special ringtone: Beff
saying "Davy? Davy? Davy? Davy?" Actually, usually only Mary heard it, and I didn't -- including later, at
the Hieberts' house. I tried to get a sense of each composer before I looked at his music; one was introduced
as being an organist who was composing, and I tried my utmost to connect: "I took one organ lesson when I
was in high school, and I bought the special shoes. Needless to say, I got a lot more use out of them later
than I did for playing the organ." The response: "For wrestling?"
That night I was taken to Chinese by Jim Barnes, picked up a little bit more of Southern accent, got
deposited at another concert with another performance of the Messiaen, after which Mike and Mary and I
went to another dinner and drinks -- I got some good beer on draft, and some textured guacamole (not
whack-a-mole). This place closed at 10, and many of the players from the concert wanted to continue, so
another venue was used, pool was played (not by me), and Mike and I ended up by ourselves just talking,
while margaritas did their dirty work on the bloodstreams of others. Friday I went to the orchestration class,
said some things and played some things, went to an open lunch, hung out in Lawrence with Forrest (book
stores and Free State Brewery yet again), got taken to dinner at a Mexican place by the Composers Guild (I
got the sizzling fajita), caught the end of a flute recital Mike was accompanying, and then went to Mike 'n'
Mary's place on the outskirts for some wine. Where we played the game "don't spill your wine while their
big dog Kona jumps all over you" -- all of us seem to have won that one. The wine was really good -- I had
frankly gotten tired of beer. Briefly.
And Saturday Mike and Mary picked me up at the Hieberts, Mike drove me to the airport, and I had an
utterly eventless flight home, with another layover in Milwaukee, which I spent entirely on the plane. I got
driven back by AAA, part of the the Mass Pike was closed because of Big Dig crappola, and Beff and I
walked to the Quarterdeck for dinner -- I had the clam roll, as usual. Speaking of seafood, I was informed
that in Kansas, catfish is considered seafood. Hmm. Where to categorize that?
Meanwhile, on THAT weekend, Beff had driven to Vermont in a rented cargo van with her bro' Bob to get

some stuff out of her dad's condo, take some donated books to Norwich University, and bring a few little
pieces of furniture back (including a partially spent jar of honey -- okay, that's not furniture, but you get the
point). On Sunday morning we dropped the van off, did a Thanksgiving shop, and did the raking thing, and
Beff left for Maine, since she promised to watch a dress rehearsal of the concert band (guess what -- they
were doing a piece by KU's own Jim Barnes) and I spent most of the afternoon preparing Monday's
teaching (lots of Xeroxing, making up a quiz, etc.)
And today, Monday, was a type of day I hate -- drive to school in the dark, and return in the dark. I didn't
even raise the shades. And here I am now, and I admit, I am listening repeatedly to the recording of the
Kansas performance because a) it was great and b) I have it. I can only say ONE of those things about the
Stony Brook performances.
Among other more mundane things -- the Capstone CDs of Michael Lipsey's hand drum CD arrived, as
well as a box at the artist rate of Jim and Judy's new CD on Bridge. Both are now available, see links in
Recordings. Both are fantafunkingtastic.
Coming up: the Wiemann siblings, possibly all of them, for Thanksgiving. And lots of grading of chorales.
Based on my random sampling, I calculated that if all the assigned ones came in, I have 13 hours of grading
over Thanksgiving break. Saturday, Maynard door and window takes a look at the pantry in preparation for
converting it into a half bath. Tomorrow morning it's dentist time again (number six). Beff gets back either
late tomorrow night or during the morning on Wednesday. And then, aw, geez, just a week and a day of
classes left. Cool.
As to this week's pictures -- all were taken from my cell phone except the first, taken on Carolyn's (kaching!) camera -- it's Carolyn playing the piece of stump as a guitar. Then we have Marilyn Nonken at the
Bowery Bar, two shots of the Free State Brewery, Mary Fukushima after being taught how to suck chips to
her face, and a bottle chandelier at the place of too many margaritas. Check the red "Uccelli" links above
for score and recording of the Kansas experience. For the Stony Brook experience, stand there very still.
And for a very, very long time.

NOVEMBER 28. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 24.3 and 63.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Ravel Duo for violin and cello. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a
dentist, bill finally -- $900 and change. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Back in our
Princeton grad student days, Andy Milburn had a Commodore 64 with a voice synthesis program -- pretty
primitive by today's standards. We delighted in attaching it to the TV and making it say things in its ... well,
robotic ... voice. We played a game with Martler and Alison where we would type things with numbers in
them to hear the computer pronounce them: 4nik8, qui9, 6ual, etc. -- and Alison topped us all with 0ber
took my jewels (zero-bber took my jewels, think French accent). Eventually we recorded our answering
machine message using this thing, which included the robotically spoken phrases "Davy is bouncing on his
bed. Martin is doing limey things". Paul Lansky thought it was so funny that he used to call us just to hear
the message -- and then he would leave a message saying, "Oh, it's Lansky again. I just called to hear the
message. Hee hee." Dunno why he didn't just hang up. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is there
such thing as a dry heave-ho? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: slib. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF are bad uses of 6-4 chords. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are turkey (duh),
including turkey added to Thai Hot and Sour soup. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Hot air balloon liftoffs
at the Minuteman Airport. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.12. REVISIONS TO THIS
SITE: This page, Performances, Home, Teaching. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 6. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS
THIS LAST WEEK is more of the back of my computer chair, but not over a four-year period -- since the
cats are only two and a half. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST WEEK: 8 (most of which were of the "emergency" sort). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE
FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 49 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I

WERE IN CHARGE: School's out for the summer. School's out forever. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 9,932 (the number is smaller because I eliminated some duplicates). WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.19. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a sea of red ink, the red that the town has been painted, the red
red robin that isn't bob bob bobbin', a red tide.
I lied. About the raking. Making a call into what Beth calls my "obsessive" nature, I made a few trips out
into the yards, rake and barrel in hands, and raked up about another two barrels worth crappy crap crap
leaves. I had noted that the yards of others were barer than ours, and there were a few mroe leaves that blew
around in various places -- that we don't even use anyway. But I diddit.
There was also another pretty short dentist visit on Tuesday morning. I had been scheduled for 8:20, and
negotiated the heavy rush hour traffic to get there in plenty of time. I got situated on a dentist chair at 8:20,
and at 8:40 the dentist, in living color, made it over to me with an assistant. Previously, the hygienist and
assistants had worn maroon uniforms, but today's matched color was light gray. I hope they didn't go to all
that fuss just to impress me. So all the doctor did this time was probe the gums and call out numbers, duly
noted by the assistant. So I felt a light probe, and the doctor said "2". Another probe, "3". Another probe,
"2". Another probe, "1". It was explained that this was a visit to see how the gums are healing after the deep
scaling. I asked -- with a mouth in my hand -- "Whi' iv be'oh -- wuh oh fwee?" The dentist responded, not
mimicking my temporary speech defect (and not removing her hand from my mouth), that "1" is best.
Toward the way back, I heard a few 5's, but the dentist ominously remarked, "wisdom tooth. It's coming out
anyway". I was glad that wasn't followed by "Right NOW". In any case, in the back left bottom, the dentist
scraped off a bit of new plaque, set a February cleaning appointment, and said to brush better there, and
said not to brush too hard on the gums because they would wear away -- what a cheerful thought. Post
Scriptum: when I did brush thoroughly in that deep recess, I got the gag reflex. Hmm, no wonder. Speaking
of gag reflexes, I haven't listened to Duran Duran in a while. Next visit: next Wednesday the 6th.
Meanwhile, Big Mike of ka-ching fame got a nice letter from the registrar which I scanned and put on the
bottom of the "Teaching" page. It is well worth your while to read it.
So after the dentist visit was a trip to Whole Foods, which is on the way to Brandeis -- assuming I take that
route -- where I had scheduled a makeup lesson with Derek. He was there teaching an ear training section,
and of course, despite my two reminder e-mails, he had forgotten. We had the lesson anyway, with an
outdated Finale file he had on his keychain flash drive (say that five times fast). Slosberg was very nearly
deserted -- a nice feeling -- and I made it home in the light -- a rare occurrence -- and filed the groceries. I
had gotten the food for the Thanksgiving feast, and the refrigerator was a-burstin' by the time I was done.
Wednesday was a day of lessons only -- neither of my classes met, as everyone was gone for the holiday -including another makeup lesson, this time with Peter B, who remembered, despite my reminder e-mail. I
realized that both HIS names have five letters, so he is duly included on my home page. And for the first
time this semester, I got out of bed early WHILE BEFF WAS HERE and told her I'd be back after my
teaching. She seemed confused -- or still asleep.
Late Wednesday afternoon Beff's sister Ann arrived for the holiday carrying about two cars worth of food
and drink. Most of it was redundant with what we had, but there were stuffed clams, which when heated
tasted exactly like turkey stuffing, and other vagaries. Many carbohydrates were consumed, and many
episodes of The West Wing were viewed.
Thanksgiving itself was as to be expected. Yet another big rainstorm was just winding up -- it ended up
dropping a lot of what I like to call "precipitation" on us Thursday night -- and Beff and her sister took an
umbrella-full walk in the morning. Meanwhile, I prepared my usual Thanksgiving snackies of celery
stuffed with (light) cream cheese, olives of various kinds, and pickle wedges. Plus a bunch of pickled garlic
that had probably expired. Then Beff did her usual Thanksgiving ritual of making the stuffing, I stuffed the
turkey, and ASKED FOR MORE. So Beff had to don the priestess of stuffing uniform once more, say her
usual chants, summon the microwave, etcetera. The bird (our affectionate term for the "turkey") went in at
11:08.

Meanwhile, we were expecting other Wiemann siblings, specifically Bob and Jim, and it was unclear to me,
and possibly to others, where Matt was. The time of arrival for Bob and Jim was up in the air, as Jim was ...
oh my, I've actually stumbled on a topic so boring I can't even bring myself to type it. Okay, then. So I
basted the turkey (or "bird" as we now call it) every half hour, snacked, we did crackers and cheese, and the
siblage arrived just as the turkey was being taken out of the oven. Meanwhile, Ann peeled enough potatoes
to feed the entire third world, and I boiled a fraction of them for eventual garlic mash. Which I made, and it
was good, brother. Ann had warned that Bob's appetite for potatoes pretty much matches that of your basic
small nation, and that prediction turned out to be true, as I witnessed a full plate emptied, then filled,
utterly, again with what I like to call "nothing but potatoes". Like Dan Quayle, I remembered the "e".
After the siblings left, it was West Wing time again, including -- no surprise -- the turkey pardoning
episode. Friday was a day of trips for Ann and Beff, while I stayed at home and graded theory homework
(there was that much) until about 3. THEY saw the deCordova Museum, and enjoyed the sculpture park, as
it was a nice mild day. I did a wee bit o' raking, obsessively. Then there were chicken skewers from Whole
Foods, and West Wing episodes.
Meanwhile, Ann noticed that she could piggyback onto someone else's Linksys wireless network. I got
jealous, because none of my computers -- even the ones with wireless cards -- could detect that network.
Apple, whathafu' is wrong with you?
Saturday was another pretty nice day, and we decided on a small drive before Ann had to leave. We drove
to the Stow "nature viewing area" -- as did lots of other people -- and took the path into the woods and out.
We then chose to look at the Minuteman Airport in Stow -- which has a cafe, after all -- and there we came
upon a pair of hot air balloons being filled. We hung around to watch them fill to the utmost and take off -all the while, teensy planes took off three in a row. And tried for some pictures, see below. I also made
movies, but boy were they boring. Dinner was leftovers. Sunday lunch was canned That hot and sour soup
with leftover turkey added -- and then was the moment of freedom. We TOSSED all the other leftovers.
After our usual big circle walk.
Beff left for Maine after lunch, and I spent the rest of the day grading yet more theory homework -- my
penance for being away in New York and Kansas. Yesterday was a typical teaching day, though it was
gorgeous out yet again, and I had the orchestration class outdoors. The topic was strategies in writing for
orchestra, and it was okay to play them the Haydn 104 finale on my little iPod boombox battery-operated
setup. But the Mahler Urlicht was way too soft and subtle -- it looked almost like a mosh pit as they all
leaned in to try to hear it over the distant din of leaf blowers. Then it was the Waldstein in Theory, and I
have been racking my brain for metaphors to explain about disrupted formal balance and weird tonal
moves. I discarded the small intestine metaphor right away -- too twisty.
Meanwhile, e-mail arrived informing us that Amy D and I will go live on WGBH radio on February 26 to
promote Amy's Boston Conservatory recital on the 27th. Amy said I'd wear my face on my t-shirt, and I
said I'd bring a stamp with Amy's face on it. The response was that a riotous hour was expected. And my
piano quintet had its third performance last night in Stony Brook, dontcha know.
And today I go to BJ's for more stuff that we always have to have lots of. Upcoming: Mindy Wagner does a
colloquium on Thursday and she's staying here overnight afterwards (Beff arrives at night, and I told her
that when she arrived we'd either be asleep or giggling a lot). Friday Beff has a deep scaling at the dentist,
and so does Cammy at the vet, as it turns out. Yes, we are hiring the vet to brush a cat's teeth. What will
they think of next? Monday is my last day of classes, Tuesday is my makeup lessons day, Wednesday is
another dentist appointment, Thursday is office hours and a meeting, and Friday -- oh, what is Friday? Must
to check schedule. It can't actually be free, can it? I guess I'll take my car in for its inspection and a brake
job, then. Fascinating.
Okay now -- long hiatus here as the Maids arrived to clean, and I went to BJ's and Trader Joe's where I got
fire logs, batteries, toilet paper, cat litter, and lots of really cool stuff. Including tomatoes of many colors.
Meanwhile, I can add hot and sour soup -- today's lunch -- to the list of meals. Trader Joe's now uses

cheaper paper bags than they used to, and one of them ripped as I was taking it out of the car. Oh, the bad
will caused by saving money on stuff where you shouldn't scrimp.
Today's pictures return to the "recent and classic" mode. We have the turkey ready to go into the oven, my
snack layout, Beff at the nature viewing area, a plane taking off at the Minuteman Airport, and two pictures
of hot air balloons there. The CLASSIC picture is of Beff and me taken by Martler -- it's 1989 in Portland,
and note that our feet aren't touching the ground.

DECEMBER 5. Breakfast this morning was the lowfat muffin from the Shapiro Center cafe, and coffee.
Lunch was Buffalo wings from Neighborhood Pizzeria, and salad. Dinner is not yet. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 22.6 and 67.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS My own "Disparate Measures", as it plays on iTunes as I type this. LARGE EXPENSES this last
week include donations to various musical organizations of $250 each, the Christmas gift of $50 to the
paper delivery person, mailing bags and stuff at Staples, amount unknown, things bought in mass quantities
at BJs, $209, various at the Bolton market, $88. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In grad
school at Princeton, there was a "pro seminar" which varied in topic wildly depending on who "taught" it.
Sometimes it was long BS sessions, sometimes there were guest lecturers (John Rahn comes to mind), but
always there were readings of student work by paid New York players. My first year there, when Spies ran
it, a player got $50 plus travel ($7 roundtrip) for coming in from New York to do 2-1/2 hours of readings.
This was when I heard my bagatelles, Mathew Rosenblum's two cello piece, Joe Dubiel's nearly endless
solo violin piece, and various others. My second year, Paul Lansky upped the pay to $60 per performer. My
third year, Spies came back and restored the $50 fee. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Where does
dust come from? I hear tell a lot of it is skin flecks, but really -- then why is there so much in the attic?
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: orce. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are requests for
extensions, etc.. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are dill barrel pickles, olives, and celery.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK This year's Anchor Christmas Ale. A whole lot like last week's Anchor
Christmas Ale. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This
page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR:
6. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4, and all of
them couldn't wait. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 66 out of 100.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Half of the "f" words in English
now begin "pf". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,957. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $2.23. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE the way to San Jose, what today is, where I put my hair dryer, when the next train
arrives.
Most of the action this week was during the weekend when Beff was around and stuff could be done. There
was the teaching stuff, the occasional grading stuff, and the usual trickle-becomes-a-flood of overdue
assignments. There was a bit of Bach to talk about on Wednesday, and some summing up to do on Monday.
For orchestration, two pizzas were procured (my suggestion of pepperoni or sausage for one of them -- pig
products -- was nixed) along with drinks. Today is the last day of classes for the semester and I would
normally stay home, but I did makeup lessons for the time I was in Kansas (in toto), and that took me until
the middle of the afternoon. Now I am officially finished for the semester, though there are plenty of office
hours still to give, a PhD oral to sit in on (b---h b---h), and by Monday lots of orchestration portfolios to
look at (b---h). And lunch with Elaine Wong on Monday!
Meanwhile, tomorrow becomes dentist visit number 7 of the semester, and it's a 2-hour job concentrating
on the lower left, and possibly finally a Nygah. I realized that in Kansas there was no mouth weirdness
whatsoever, but that it returned when I did, so there's something with the bed or the pillow or the grinding
that must be figured out. In any case, it will be the last dentist visit of the semester, hallelujah. There's
always next semester. The dentist visit also gives me another ironclad excuse not to do the Messiah sing
tomorrow afternoon. Especially as there are no ka-chings involved with it this time.

By far the event of the week was a magnificent colloquium given by Mindy Wagner on Thursday
afternoon. I had known Mindy slightly from an American Academy of Arts and Letters event (we both got
Academy Awards), a NYNME performance (we sat together and said perfunctory things), and really got to
know her at the MacDowell Colony in June, 01. We actually became giggle twins -- especially when the
phrase "fish face" was used. You hadda be there. So Mindy drove up from New Jersey, and I left the door of
my house unlocked (you can do that here). I did my Thursday teaching and eschewed a department lunch in
order to be home when she got it -- and when I arrived she was already here. In fact, she had even answered
the phone when Beff called (she got a retroactive raise and it all went into her last paycheck).
So Mindy and I, in the very warm, took the circle walk around the area, and then went to Brandeis with all
her stuff. Her colloquium was quite well attended (we asked her to repeat her guitar piece), went over well,
and -- Eric Chasalow got us into the TUSCAN GRILL!!! for the post-colloquium dinner. And it was Mindy
and the four of the composition faculty enjoying Brandeis's hospitality there. I had the seared salmon, in
case you cared. Then, being as middle-aged as we are, we retired early after a brief gigglefest at home, and
Beff got in after that. In the morning, Mindy got toast and coffee, got to hang with both Beff and me for a
while before she had to drive back, and then it was back to the normalness of our humdrum lives.
So our big adventure of the weekend was a long drive that included a bit of shopping, on Saturday. It
included a stop at Bolton Farms for various food and giftie things, a long walk through the Oxbow Wildlife
Refuge, a drive to Staples for some mailing bags, etc., and a return home for various walkies. It had been
very warm until Friday -- a rainy day that also got to the upper 60s (I believe the temp on Thursday was a
record for Boston), and that was a day for BEFF to go to the dentist. As to that, we pretty much have the
same stories (hygienist does the scaling, dentist comes over and does some more); in my case, I had Beff
follow me in the car to the dentist, after which I got some good stuff at Whole Foods. And duh, brought it
back.
Sunday was my day of grading and watching the Patriots struggle (again!) against a vastly inferior team
and preparing what to say in class on Monday. Though in the morning -- it had gotten quite cold, actually -Beff and I decided on some sort of walk (Harley Bridge, etc.) and then she had to up and drive to Maine for
rehearsal, etc.
On Monday after teaching I actually went into Cambridge ON THE TRAIN to meet Gil Rose. And
happened to travel with Peter M, who got on a bike in Porter Square. I didn't. I met Gil at the Casablanca,
he had some wine, I had some beer, olives, and burger, and we talked about various BMOP-related things
that applied directly to me. For those of you playing along at home, the performance of my piano concerto
is next November 2, and the complete, uncut Ballet Mecanique is on the show as the second half.
Meanwhile, the recording session for Winged Contraption is at 8:30 on January 21 -- the performance being
the finale of the January 20 concert. Guess who's getting a room at the Midtown Motor Inn on the 20th?
What else do you need to know? We're budgeting 5 hours to record the piano concerto.
And then I got the 6:45 train home instead of the expected 7:55, meaning I could record the episode of
"Closer" that Beff was interested in. And I got my commission/residency check from U Kansas PLUS
finally a recording of my two performances of my piano quintet in Stony Brook and New York. GETTING
THE TAPE is always a big production around here, especially since there were two performances of a
three-movement piece with which to deal. That meant capturing the audio, editing out the applause and
pauses and normalizing the recording levels (the Stony Brook performance came to me very soft), putting
AIFFs into the "Davy CD tracks" folder, converting them to mp3s and uploading them to my webspace,
updating my secret index, and e-mailing various people that they are there. Wow.
So the two performances of the quintet ("Disparate Measures") sound very different. In Stony Brook it was
a much better piano, and the recording is more blended but more distant; in New York it was a small grand
and the microphones are quite close to the strings, so the balance is different, but I like the presence and
scratchiness of the string sound. If the dear reader would like he/she may compare them (see red links on
left) and express to me a preference. For the uninitiated listener, the first movement is called "Flight" (it's
sort of inspired by the awkward and then gorgeous flying motion of a Great Blue Heron that nested near my

Yaddo studio), the second is "Adagio" and the third is "Vapor Lock". I don't know where "Vapor Lock"
came from, but nobody asked me about it so I didn't have to make up shit. And yes, that's a quote from the
Brahms Lullaby in the third movement.
Hmm. Great Blue Heron and Birds of Bogliasco. Looks like it was my summer of birds. I don't mind.
I also started thinking about a piece for Collage and Judy Bettina -- there is no firm commitment yet, nor
firm ensemble, but I started poring through some volumes of poetry by Phillis Levin, and may have enough
for a substantial piece. With so much contrast it will part your hair. Right down the middle.
There, now that wasn't so hard, was it? For those playing along at home, this is Stacy's 37th birthday (I
called her from work at 10 her time and she was practically asleep). And there's not much else to report. So
listen to the SB and NYC performances of "Disparate Measures", and if you have a preference, be prepared
to write a 1,000 word essay on why.
This week's pictures include two of Mindy after the colloquium, first with Marty Boykan and second with
Josh Gordon; then we have Yu-Hui posing with the Kansas Jayhawks glove given me by Mary Fukushima;
then a picture toward our house Sunday morning as we took our walk; then the Oxbow River in the refuge,
and a sycamore tree with its peeling bark. Bitchin.

DECEMBER 12. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% Kraft cheddarlike cheese, orange
juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a couple of small mozzarella and tomato sandwiches at a committee
meeting. Lunch was an expensive pizza and half a Kobe beefburger in Newton Center with Elaine Wong.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 18.5 and 52.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS My own "Disparate Measures", again, since the recording of its third performance
came in. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include dentistry, $1444, Christmas present for Beff, $314,
toner cartridges $300, printing paper $121, Christmas tree, $35. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: One fine Sunday afternoon when we are at Tanglewood, the composers of Serenak (me,
Martler, Ross, Nami, and Dan Brewbaker) were having our lunch in our servants' kitchen. At the same time,
the members-only lunch club was going on in the main part of the mansion, for donors and smelly old
people. Bernie poked her head in and asked if a guest, who was weary of the Lunch Club, could join us, we
said okay. It was Seiji Ozawa; he very limply shook all of our hands, I gave him an expensive beer to go
with his cucumber sandwich, and he was on his way. Weeks later after the last Tanglewood concert, at the
dance party at Miss Hall's School, Ozawa came up to me and thanked me a second time for the beer. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many times, really, does a "deadline" have to be repeated for a
student before it sinks in (apparently, seven is too low a number)? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
kleebstock. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF my temporary crown. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: are not much of anything, actually. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the price of toner
cartridges often exceeds the price of the printers that use them. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1
AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 7. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS
THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, but the little cat from the "cat shooter" occasionally surfaces as a manic cat
toy. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 6, with
10 Guggenheim letters coming up. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is
45 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The other half of
the "f" words in English now begin with "ph". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,992. WHAT I
PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.29. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE time, being, existence, dust bunnies thickened with
cat hair.
Classes have been over for a week, but it hardly seems it. My firm deadline for all materials was yesterday
at 5, and of course not everything is in yet. Drastic measures will be called for: next semester each student

will be asked to sign a statement attesting that they know on which date all class materials are due, and that
they will accept a zero for all assignments not completed by that date. It's come to this, folks. There's
something here about the needs of the few, but I don't know how it applies.
I also did all my makeup lessons and other various things at the 'Deis, and had extra office hours. Of which
some students availed themselves. And Wednesday was chapter 7 in adventures in dentistry. This was a
very long one, as there were two fillings followed by the preparation of a crown (I had asked for the tiara,
but they were out. Plus, they looked at me funny). It was the sort of thing that you keep thinking is over, but
it isn't (sort of like the chamber works of Dvorak). I even got to bite into something that felt like wet
modeling clay and hold it in my mouth, droolful, for ten minutes. And after all that, I found out I had a
"temporary" crown and that a porcelain one was to be custom fabricated at the ... uh, crown factory? And
that it would be installed next Tuesday the 19th. Meanwhile, the temporary one was described as "sort of
plastic", I was advised not to chew too hard on that side, and to not floss normally there. Hmm, great
advice. The not chewing thing is easy, since it HURTS to chew on the temporary crown. But enough about
teeth. Unless you wish to know that a porcelain crown costs $1150, not much less than a root canal.
Today is my sister Jane's birthday. She turns 55. Wow.
This was an unusual week in that I DIDN'T look outside and see more little piles of leaves that needed
raking for me to rush outside and take care of. Instead, I did some deep thinking. And when I saw what I
had done, I went to the bathroom.
Beff got in late Thursday night and had her second dentist appointment on Friday morning. I meanwhile
had anticipated waiting for Derek J to come over and do some tabloid printing, but he had to put it off until
today. So after Beff got back from the dentist, we drove to the library, returned some stuff, got some stuff,
and walked around downtown. It was a bitterly cold and windy day (I was heard to remark, "it's a bitterly
cold and windy day, isn't it?"), so we did as little walking in the outside as we could. Beff was looking for
what she calls "trinkets" for the Christmas packages that go to relatives, as well as other various vestiti
(clothes), so we did the Outdoor Store. And I renewed a prescription at CVS, mailed some packages at the
post office, and we stopped by Maynard Door and Window to give Zoe the dog some bones, as usual -- see
Zoe movie below. After that (while the prescription was being filled), we lunched at the Quarterdeck, where
life was beautiful all the time. I got the clam roll, not because I wanted to be unoriginal, but because I
wanted a clam roll. Then it was back into the cold and back home.
A Christmas present from both of us to both of us arrived, meantime -- a digital picture frame, which is
apparently now all the rage. Beff chose a nice one, the 6.5 inch Phillips one. What you do is load your
favorite pictures on a digital card (this one reads 4 formats) and it has an LED display to slideshow them, or
show just one, or whatever you want. The battery doesn't last all that long (a 2-1/2 hour charge seems to
give you 2 hours of display), but it's very cool --- especially if your feet are as deeply immersed in
geekdom as mine are. Meanwhile, Beff specified exactly which handbag she wanted to replace her cheap
TJ Maxx model, and I got that for her -- it arrived yesterday. I don't know where in geekdom that leaves
me, but I will, Oscar, I will.
Friday's dinner was delicious chicken sandwiches, which accompanied the local (our living room) showing
of Intolerable Cruelty. Beff was curious because she saw the first two thirds of it IN THE DENTIST
CHAIR and wanted to see how it ended. It was funny indeed, but we both expected another silly twist at
the end -- being a Coen Brothers movie and all that -- but it was conventional.
Saturday began with a discussion of the need for yet more trinkets, specifically toy-like-lookin' USB flash
drives for our nephew like those spyed on gifts.com. So we decided on an early-as-possible departure for
Target, which we thought might have them. We were wrong. But I did get two nice new sweaters, we got
some cat and dog stuff, and other various and sundry items, and moved on to CompUSA -- which also
didn't have them. So Beff up and got them online. Meanwhile, I took a trip to Staples to see if they had
them, and to FYE (formerly Strawberries) in Acton. Where I got some CD-Rs (the last brand I trust -- Fuji
Film with the boxes) and an iTunes gift card for Beff. Lunch was Trader Joe's shrimp tempura.

Later on Saturday we got our usual Lions Club Christmas tree from the parking lot at Shaw's and brought it
home, along with some very nice groceries indeed. We got a shorter one than usual because the last two got
so tipsy we had to tie them to the wall to keep them from falling over -- plus, the stereo is now in the place
where we've usually put them, so it's now more in the middle of the living room than toward the window. I
actually got out the hacksaw and trimmed some of the bush in front of the window so that passersby could
see a bit of the tree. So we installed the tree and Beff decorated it. It is now there. As a tree. Decorated by
Beff. And I am watering it daily. And of course, the cats love anything that seems naturelike brought into
the house. So with a roaring fire, a decorated tree, and a digital frame doing a slideshow of 305 pictures, we
were set. For Christmas music we had -- Earth, Wind and Fire? Yep.
Sunday Beff made another of her early exits, after we did a walk into town for more possible trinkets. I
worried out loud that nothing but the Paper Store would be open, and I was right. But trinkets we got. And
walking we did. My only obsessive outdoor thing -- now that the weather was much warmer -- was picking
up fallen pine cones in the back yard. They filled a big shopping bag, so there.
On Monday I started preparing scores to send to colony applications for this summer -- which involved the
copy machine in the guest room, which finally after a year and a half ran out of toner. Lucky me, I bought
extra toner when I bought the machine, so I was able to do the whole job and WOW, making scores is
tedious. I followed that performance with a long day at Brandeis, first with a composition lesson, then with
my yearly Elaine Wong lunch (we ate at a trendy and expensive place in Newton Center), three hours of
office hours, and a committee meeting that went until about 8. When I got home, it was naturally dark, and
the cats were antsy, a-lookin' for treats. Which they got. When I got home, I found out it was package day:
Beff's handbag arrived, my Bose Xmas present arrived, and a note saying FedEx tried to deliver a book
from Tom Kunding (architect I met at MacDowell) tried to be delivered, and they'd be back. That and I got
the CD of the THIRD performance of Disparate Measures, to which I listened -- the finale is finally at the
tempo I wanted, but there's some weird ensemble stuff in the middle that I don't think I can fix.
Nonetheless, it's another very fine performance. Since no one compared the two performances put up here
last week, they are ... gone!
So today I go through all the final grading -- except for those that don't realize seven iterations of the
deadline are enough -- and host Derek for his big printing. Wednesday is a PhD oral and I'll probably see
Sam and Laurie and Georgia afterwards. Thursday is yet another meeting. And late on Friday, Beff is back.
That pretty much sums it up. So on the left, see the little dog Zoe from Maynard Door and Window catch
the ball I throw (academy award, here we come).
This week's pictures include Cammy looking out the dining room window (apparently at a bush), the digital
frame displaying Amy D in China, actual tolerable pictures of me 'n' Beff at the Quarterdeck, Zoe on my
leg looking for a bone, the Christmas tree hiding the raging fire in back of it, Cammy and Sunny a-checkin'
out the tree, the full moon early in the week, and two old scanned pictures of Beff and siblings.

DECEMBER 19. Last night's dinner was 93% lean burgers and salad. Breakfast this morning was rice link
sausages with cheese, potato pancakes, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch today was a small Brick Oven
pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 29.8 and 56.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The song "Zwielicht" by Schumann -- as I think I may quote it in the piece I
am working on now. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a new office chair, $105 at Staples.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In eighth grade, we had a new gym teacher known as "Mr.
Pequignot", or Mr. P -- Mr. Gilbert, who had done the job so many years before, bought a farm and retired
from teaching; this was also the second year that all eight grades went to the new elementary school instead
of the regional schools in buildings that were a hundred years old. Mr. P decided to put together a soccer
team. I did not go out for it, but after the first practice, he persuaded me to do it -- I was the starting left
winger. Do not ask me why. In our very first game -- played in back of the old Barlow Street School,
against St. Albans Town, we got the kickoff, which went to the right inside, and then to me. I tried to make
a long, long kick to get the ball in front of the goal for one of other guys. I kicked as hard as I could, and

then got decked by the other team's right winger. As I got up, I saw the ball going into the goal. We won
that game 1-0. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many people eat, or say, rutabagas every day?
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: alstage. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF my temporary crown
and its temperature distress, still. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are pouch pickles, nighttime
popcorn, and Buffalo wing hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK At Staples, there is sometimes a huge
disconnect between the price you see on the floor and what comes up on the register. In their defense, they
will charge you the lower price. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 18. REVISIONS TO
THIS SITE: This page, Bio, Teaching, Performances, Lexicon, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I
GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 7. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, but the little cat from the "cat shooter" is
continuing to pop up in new places every day (currently on a stair between floors) RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 18 (including 10 handwritten
Guggenheim letters) DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 32 out of 100.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: A president who understands
that he has the opposite of "political capital". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,992. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.27. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE beans, beans, the magic fruit, temporary cloud formations, a
distant noise that sounds like an explosion, the texture inside a wool mitten.
I am through with Brandeis for the calendar year, and none too soon. Much of last Wednesday, Thursday
and Friday were spent correcting the last homeworks, the late homeworks, and much time was spent going
over the Orchestration portfolios -- yes, I did make annotations on some of the projects, and I DID read all
of the "listening journals" I had obnoxiously assigned. Why did I assign listening journals? Because it was
my decision that the students had to listen to a lot of music and listen carefully to how instruments were
used, but they wouldn't necessarily be graded on it -- thus, undergraduates being a busy lot, since they
weren't being graded, I knew they would not do the listening unless I made them write about every piece.
That, therefore, created a larger burden for me in terms of grading -- it's this time of year when I regret
assigning as much as I do. On the other hand, it did help to lead to that Gushing With Pride moment -- as
when I showed a colleague the first orchestra arrangement that came in, and noted, "here's someone who
couldn't have told you the range of any of these instruments three months ago, and look -- an
orchestrational crescendo." Hee hee hee.
Meanwhile, the theory students may just be starting to "get" Beethoven -- as in how to balance the form
when weird stuff happens, how the dominants get longer and longer, and why codas are there. How 'bout
that. So all that correcting, reading and grading took me right to Friday night, which was when Beff got
back -- a day late because of something to do with exams and the U Maine schedule.
Which gave us a shortened weekend. It was still mild (love this global warming thing at this time of year),
and I have been making occasional trips out to the edge of the property where all the overgrowth has been,
obsessively uprooting old vines, ailanthus stumps, and large root systems that seem to belong to forsythias.
I have NOT obsessively been picking up the pine cones that have fallen in the side yard, but I just may. I
just may. Because there are a lot.
And there was a large pile of packages that had arrived for Beff to sort through -- various Christmas
presents (including a tote bag for the sibling known as Matt -- she brought it into the computer room and
asked if it looked like The Sibling Known as Matt's style, and I had no idea what she was talking about. So
I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I suppose I'm supposed to say that it does. Look like
the style of the sibling known as Matt, that is.").
Beff had plenty of grading of her own to do, of course, as well as practicing to do, but we did manage long
and large walks both weekend days (including around the mill on Sunday and a brief look at a house we
could have bought but are glad we didn't -- no garage, narrow street, other houses very close -- but a oneminute walk downtown). And on Saturday of course there was a trip out Stapleswards to look for more
giftie trinkets, as well as ship the holiday gift packages to my own relatives, spread far and wide as they are
in Colorado and Vermont.

I have noted here that Cammy sharpens his claws on the back of my computer chair, which was bought new
when we got the house -- therefore about six years old -- and the back has become quite ratty (not catty,
ratty) -- so I decided since I was at Staples that I would go for another new office chair. So into the office
chair department went I, and they've been upgrading (a quote from Adam from Buffy Season IV) -- none of
the carpet-textured office chairs seem to be offered any more, though there are plenty at really lowdown
prices. I found something that met my needs -- adjustable height and armrests (Beff brought home a really
nice chair from her dad's condo, but it lacked the armrests), and a leatherette surface -- perhaps Cammyproof, but I doubt it. And it was $120 on sale for $100. Of course it wasn't in stock, so at the store kiosk the
salesman looked it up for the sake of having it delivered, and the price came through as $150. The manager
gave it to me for the indicated price, of course, and it arrived a few minutes ago. I am not excited about
putting it together, but I will be one of these days.
And in the meantime, all the extra printing paper and toner cartridges I ordered online last week arrived. I
saw that 28-pound tabloid size laser printing paper was available, so I snapped some up -- and it is labeled
as "color laser" printing paper. Cool. And one of the packages that had arrived was a Christmas present to
me -- the Bose iPod thingie. And it has a very big sound. We listened to our Christmas tape on it, and Beff
got tired of it. So we listened to the Christina Aguilera Christmas CD and suffered through a little bit of
melisma abuse -- putting that voice on Angels We Have Heard On High is a little bit like swatting a fly with
a sledgehammer. Actually, a lot like it.
Meanwhile, my big task of the weekend was putting together applications for MacDowell Colony and
Yaddo for the summer, which is a much more involved process than I remembered -- it's always a much
more involved process than I remembered. Since I had to get recent scores together, I actually had to make
them and bind them. And burn some CD-Rs. And make three copies of the applications. And get Harold
Meltzer to write for me for MacDowell. And then both applications ask you to list your five most important
professional accomplishments. I suppose teaching singers how to write an orchestral crescendo doesn't
count, nor does teaching 150 students, and counting, how to write a minuet for string quartet. So selfhorntooting it is. And then they have to be packaged and addressed, an application fee check written, etc.
Meanwhile, we are leaving for our vacation trip -- England, Scotland and Wales (oh my) next Tuesday. So
no update here for three weeks. Deal with it. The house- and catsitter will be Seunghee, a grad composition
student at Brandeis, and we had her to the Quarterdeck for dinner on Saturday night so we could go over
the stuff that has to be done. I had the blackened cajun special. She was able to read the Korean writing on
the Little Pusan Restaurant, informing us that it read "Little Pusan Restaurant".
Sunday's dinner was portobellos and salmon burgers and salad. Really good, if you ask me. Go ahead, ask
me.
Yesterday, Monday, I was supposed to go into work for a lesson and two meetings. In a lucky twist of fate,
both meetings were cancelled, as was the lesson. Which made it my first working day since I finished "Not"
back in October. I am not yet ready to start a band piece, and I would have been reading Phillis Levin's
poetry and writing a set of songs with ensemble, but I do not know yet what ensemble I am writing for, and
my e-mail asking that question is so far not answered. So I got antsy -- I asked the usual suspects for etude
ideas and went back to the last time I asked for etude ideas, and settled on one of them: fast melodic thirds.
Meanwhile, Mike Kirkendoll weighed in with some that I've filed for future etudes. As I write this, I am in
the middle of bar 48 of this etude, and, true to form, I don't know if I'm half finished, two thirds finished, or
nine tenths finished. But there definitely is some cool stuff, and if I play my cards right, I'll get in a quote
from that Schumann song, Zwielicht.
But in the morning I had to get the colony applications out -- I drove to West Concord, since that's usually a
deserted post office, and the line was about 30 people, all of them holding packages. So I went to the health
food store, got some pickles, and then went to K-Mart in search of cat treats and a hand mixer -- Seunghee
had asked if we had one, and I was embarrassed to say we don't. I got a little Sunbeam handheld electric
one, cat treats, etc., and on the way home I stopped at the Maynard post office, where the line was long, but
only about a dozen people -- including a family applying for passports, and that takes a LONG time. Later
on the news I learned that December 18 is usually the busiest day at the post office (last day they guarantee

delivery by Christmas), and that made me think -- why does Yaddo have a deadline (January 1) that pretty
much guarantees that applicants have to stand in line in the Christmas rush?
As to today -- I have been mostly writing the piece and checking e-mail on occasion. Shortly I will try to
put a chair together. And my appointment to get my permanent crown put in for today was moved to
tomorrow morning. So mentally, put that dentist visit number at 8, which it may be by the time you read
this.
I decided to make this update the Year In Review update -- since it's going to be sitting here for more than
three weeks anyway. So as usual, the twelve shots below represent the successive months of 2006. Drum
roll, please.
You may recall that I had an unpaid leave in the spring semester -- oh lawdy how I'd love more of those.
Except for the unpaid part. So I did the VCCA (with Beff), MacDowell Colony, Bogliasco Foundation in
Italy, and Yaddo. So January is a view of the mountains near the VCCA; February is ice made near the edge
of the Assabet Rive, mostly in the shape of the splatting; March is the kitties on a mild day that I came
home from MacDowell to paint with Beff; April is a closeup of more ice deep in the woods at MacDowell;
May is a bit of the Mediterranean as viewed from the Bogliasco Foundation; in June Beff had a
performance sung by Sooooozie on an ACA concert, and there's Soooooozie showing us her cell phone,
July found me at Yaddo, and there's a mushroom near my studio; in August, there's the breakfast (and
dinner) table at Yaddo on my last day, with Gina making a face; in September, we see Beff at the nature
preserve whose name I forget; in October, who can forget the ailanthus blowing down in a windstorm that
took out part of the fence?; in November, there's Beff at the local nature preserve; and in December, there's
the new digital frame on the mantel (it is displaying the Ka-Ching twins embarking in the canoe with me
looking on). Rock on.

2007
JANUARY 11. Today's lunch was an Amy's mushroom and pepper pizza, shared with Beff. Dinner last
night was salmon burgers and salad. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, orange juice, coffee, and
grapefruit juice. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST 3 WEEKS: 15.8 and 71.1. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS My own "Disparate Measures", last movement. LARGE
EXPENSES this last 3 weeks include everything we bought in the United Kingdom, Beff's dental bill $660,
Winged Contraption recording session mucho denaro. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In
1970 my brother graduated from the Colorado School of Mines and got married in the same week. This was
occasion for the whole family to fly to Colorado for a week and do a nice vacation, in May. I went, and was
roommates with my grandmother. But I was very short at the time. The family stopped at a Mr. Steak chain
for dinner whenever that was possible, and the wedding rehearsal dinner was held at a place with a fake
windmill called The Hungry Dutchman -- I remember thinking that it was expensive, since most dishes
were at least $5. Also seen on the trip were the Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, and lots of Speed
Limit 70 signs. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What is rounder than round?THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: pimkole. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF turbulence, even more than two
weeks later. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are bitter ale, olives, potato chips with weirdass
flavors, pouch dill pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Scotland, in winter, with clear skies. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: a little irrational number I like to call "bibbletymop".
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Bio, Performances, Do You Really Look Like That. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 8. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, as far as I can tell. RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST 3 WEEKS: 6, including 3 online letters written
and sent from the United Kingdom. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I
flunked my learner's permit exam the first time I took it. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF
I WERE IN CHARGE: A moratorium on electronic gadgets with names whose first syllable is a lowercase
"i". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,220. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.27.

OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE a poorly drawn sad clown face, a chocolate covered ant, the concept of overeating as expressed by
mimes, a tarp measuring 12 feet by 12 feet with an orange juice stain.
It is now three weeks since the last update, and there are a few things to report. Short version: all of Beth's
siblings plus nephew here for Christmas, eating, flying, two weeks in the United Kingdom, flying, catch up.
So let's break those down in order, shall we?
Around the last time I posted, I finished my 75th piano etude -- on "melodic thirds" -- and called it
"Twilight", after the "Zwielicht" movement of the Opus 39 Liederkreis that I quoted in the piece's coda.
The etude has some boring bits that are rescued by the parts that aren't boring. And some triads, but that is
neither here nor there. I finished just in time to enter it into Finale before relatives started arriving for
Christmas. And arrive they did.
On the Saturday before Christmas, Beff's sister Ann and her son Jack arrived, and we did what we could to
make things interesting. It became a running gag for me to ask Jack -- age 11 -- if he was monumentally
bored yet. Apparently not, since he probably knew he was going to be opening an XBox 360 on Christmas
day. We went to the Quarterdeck that night, and Jack was not yet bored. Next day there was plenty of
cooking and it being warmish outside, and watching of TV, and finally there were the Christmas eve gifts to
open. I don't remember what mine was.
On Christmas Day itself there was much opening of presents and the staggered arrivals of Beff's other
siblings Matt, Bob, and Jim. I made my usual celery and cream cheese snackies, and as usual Ann had
brought enough food for about 20 people, and the late afternoon dinner, cooked by Ann, was a roast beef
sort of thing, au jus (or as the relatives were saying, "with au jus"). My only part in the big cookoff was to
steam a bunch of very long and fat asparagus, and there ended up being too much, so I had to sautee it.
Normally at this sort of affair Bob's second whole plate of food would be mashed potatoes, but he was
deprived. So I think he may have had an actual bite of asparagus. After the usual toasts and stuff, the
siblings were off, and more TV was watched -- indeed, the entire first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer,
and I think Jack got hooked. This marks him as one of the family, i.e., a serious geekzoid.
On the day after Christmas we were scheduled to be picked up at 5 to be driven to the airport, so the
morning consisted of packing (I brought way more clothes than I used), disassembling the Christmas tree
and chucking it, walking downtown and back, and picking up Seunghee at the train station, as she was to be
the catsitter for two weeks. She got here early enough, and it was warm enough (57) that we three took a
nice walk around the old rail trail, etc. And then we left.
The jet stream that guides weather systems has been going nuts this winter -- bringing giant snows to
Colorado and record warmth to this area (see temperature extremes, above) -- and a storm that had just
deposited a bunch of rain on Christmas day was now in eastern Canada. We apparently flew right over the
most turbulent part of it, since our flight was a real doozy. In fact, the anticipated tail wind was so great that
our 6-1/2 hour flight was scheduled to be 5-1/2 hours, which the captain called "very short". In typical
British fashion, he also warned that with the tailwind it would be "a bit bumpy". He was right -- the first
hour and a half ranged the full gamut from scary to downright terrifying. Compound that with our being in
the very back of the plane (a 747) and the plane apparently being from an era when humans were a foot
shorter (which would explain the near absence of leg room), and I pretty much decided to cross British Air
off of my list of possible future air carriers. I passed the time alternating between being absolutely terrified
and watching our route on the virtual map on the screen in front of us. At one point it said the tail wind was
300 mph. Wow.
So naturally we were woolly and harried when we got off the plane, and our time in England began with a
55-minute wait in line just for passport control (Beff said that it was worse in Costa Rica, but somehow that
didn't solve the problem at hand). So when we finally got to a customs agent, we got asked "relationship?"
"Married." "How long?" "Eighteen years" -- then Beff figured out "how long" referred to how long we were
staying. We revised the answer to two weeks. And after all that wait, there was STILL another half hour
wait till our luggage appeared. Boy, I'matellayou, these European airports.

And so naturally we were frazzled and very tense when we finally met Martler -- who had waited an hour
and a half hisself. The drive to Brighton was uncomplex, and we finally saw for the first time his and Cora's
place in Hove -- a lovely and funky two-story townhouse that has its own cat. I quickly acclimated myself
to Martler's schedule: morning coffee, lovely lunch, 6:30 trip to pub for two pints, dinner, and to bed. It's
the pub that I remember best, of course, since it was pretty much unvarying no matter where we were. And
Cora did a lot of impromptu and improvised cooking of meals that turned out quite excellently, thank you.
And so for the first week it was a drive to nearby Lewes for lunch and antiquing (Beff got two ceramic
pieces), a walk on the Brighton pier, Thai food in Brighton, a tour of the Brighton Pavilion (an early
nineteenth century gaudy palace), a train ride to London to view the play Frost-Nixon (Cora got us firstrow rush seats), a 6-hour drive to Wales -- with the Brighton cat (named Violet but called Bitey or Bidge)
on Cora's lap -- where we stayed in the place Cora co-owns for several days, and lots of windiness on the
shore. The place (Chesterton) is gorgeous and very comfy, and RIGHT ON the water, and we spent some
time doing e-mail (they have wi-fi) and watching a British series "The Lakes". On New Years Eve we went
to the closest pub and people were there in costume (a Welsh new years thing?) and instead of returning to
the pub for the stroke of midnight, we took some champagne out to the back veranda (winds varying
between 35 and 50 mph) and had our own blowout. So to speak.
So the day after New Years we visited Aberystwyth -- just south -- and visited the breathtakingly
unimpressive Welsh National Library. Then of course there was the pub at 6:30 -- as well as for lunch.
Next day Beff and I boarded a bunch of trains (some operated by Arriva, some by Virgin) to Glasgow,
where we sat close to a guy who droned on and on and on and on about boring details of places he'd been
that no one has ever heard of. It made it easier to fall asleep. We got to Glasgow, found our hotel, and
immediately set out to find a nearby restaurant ("The Buttery") highly recommended by Beff's
SCOTLAND GUIDE BOOK. Turns out it was closed. Had been for months, maybe years (we now think
only for about six months). So nearer the hotel we gambled on a Thai restaurant that turned out to have
good food but very bad music (a pentatonic MIDI jerkoff-fest whose only satisfaction was an occasional
actual leading tone or chord based on virtual scale degree 4).
Then we spent two days walking all over the city, mostly in search of Charles Rennie Mackintosh stuff,
which we like very much. We did the Willow Tea Rooms (or their current incarnation), the Glasgow School
of Art, Glasgow Cathedral, the shopping streets, the museum of modern art, the Hunterian Gallery with the
reconstructed Mackintosh housw with original Mackintosh furniture and a bunch of Whistler paintings, the
Kelvingrove Museum, the Two Fat Ladies restaurant (I got me a apron with their logo), beer at the Babbity
Bowster, a meal at the Ubiquitous Chip, and a final meal at a pub near the train station. Good beer, those
Scottish. And Beff got a liter of Ancnon Scotch to bring back, mostly because we had never heard of it.
On our last morning in Glasgow, we walked around some places we hadn't been -- the sun seems not to
have risen before 8:45, by the way, and was alwas very low in the sky, all day -- and encountered a selfstanding building labeled RAVEL CENTER. Beff was excited, as we had never heard that Ravel had
dealings in Scotland. Beff took a picture with her camera, and when we got closer to the building to see
what was inside, we noted lots of maps, plane and rail schedules, and package prices. Then we were close
enough to notice the skeleton of the letter "T" before RAVEL CENTER. We had a big tee hee about that,
pardner.
The trip back to London by train was fine -- it's always good to get on at the beginning of the trip since you
get priority space for your baggage, and that was in tremendously short supply on the Virgin train we rode.
Upon arrival in London, we cabbed it to Cora's place next to the British museum, and went with their
friends Domini and Adrian to the Mayflower restaurant in Chinatown and had an amazing meal -- including
an EXTREMELY peppery hot and sour soup that was as tasty as it was painful. But hey -- painful is my
game. Next day it was back to Brighton and back to teaching for Martler, a lunch with Cora, and some
walking through "The Lanes" -- a Berkeley-type area of Brighton. For our farewell dinner, Martin couldn't
take us to his place of choice (duh, it was closed), so we had the second choice -- a small French restaurant.
We got some wine and my choices were an asparagus and something pastry followed by some nice pasta.

The squeamish are invited to skip this paragraph. So while eating the pastry thing, I started to feel a
scratching in the back of my throat, as if there was a fish bone stuck there or something, and it just felt very
scratchy and awkward. I was unable to swallow the damn thing, and I tried to cough it up, but nothing was
doing. I didn't want to make a scene -- have I mentioned that we were in a French restaurant? -- so I hopped
downstairs, quickly, to the mens room, and tried to cough it out violently. Nothing doing. Couldn't swallow
it either. So, sigh. I felt the next step was to do the bulimia thing and stick my finger way back in my throat
to see if I could upchuck violently enough to dislodge the thing, and that didn't work either. At this point, I
started to feel where the thing was, so the next step was to try to scrape it out of where it was, and luckily I
had just enough fingernail to do that -- of course, it was deep enough so that each time I tried that I got the
gag reflex big-time. But after five or six tries, finally I felt whatever it was move to the side of my cheek
very deep. A few more scraps and gag reflexes later, Martler showed up to see what was up, and I finally
got it out and onto the counter. It was a short piece of very thin but rigid wire, an inch and a half to two
inches long. After gargling a little water and swallowing some, we both went back to our table, I brought
the piece of wire, and I finished my starter. My throat felt rather scratchy (duh), but I finished the entree as
well. Martler paid, then brought the wire up to the waitstaff and explained what had happened to me -explaining that he was avoiding a big scene, and the chef ought to know what's in the stuff he is serving.
The response was -- nothing. Later when we were leaving, we were given assistance with our coats, and
one of the waiters said to me, "sorry about your starter, sir". Wow. Oh, those French.
So that was my last night in England. For those of you whose future travel plans include Brighton, I will
merely say that the name of the restaurant previously referenced is La Fourchette, on Western Street.
So the next morning we went with Martler to his job at the U of Sussex, and occupied ourselves until he
drove us to Heathrow, where we arrived four hours before our flight. We had anticipated long queues (we
were starting to talk like Britons), but from the time we entered the terminal to the time our e-tickets
printed, our baggage was checked and we went through security, it was only twelve minutes later. So we
had a lot of time to walk around, play with our phone card, have a little lunch, and be frustrated at Duty
Free in our quest for Amaro (Beff noted that one of the more plebian wines that you can get here was
offered as a luxury item there for oh so much more than it would have cost here). Then there was the flight
itself, which was delayed by an hour because, again -- high winds over the Atlantic were causing a
bottleneck in the available routes, and I steeled myself for another bumpy flight, but even longer. It turned
out the flight WAS very long, but was also extremely smooth. Wow. Customs and baggage claim were very
quick, and we were home by 9:30 at night. With an AVALANCHE of stuff upon which to catch. And we
were VERY glad to see our cats. And they were glad to see us.
Now our dollars weren't worth very much in England. The cost of a Pound Sterling varied between $1.92
and $1.95 while we were there, and we used the least expensive option to get cash -- debit card at cash
machines. With the one percent plus five dollars per transaction that our bank charged, it ended up being
almost exactly two to one -- two bucks bought a pound. Problem was, a pound bought about $1.40 worth of
stuff, so everything turned out being, by our standards, vastly overpriced. A simple lunch at Two Fat Ladies
(including the purchase of an apron for 12 pounds) ended up costing us a hundred bucks, in fact -- but by
then we were so desensitized to the exchange rate that it felt like we were paying dollars and not pounds.
And the cause of the crappy exchange rate? Bush's trade deficit, and Bush's government's spending deficit.
Caused in no small part by Bush's war. So all in all, W cost us an extra 700 or 800 bucks. More than the
seemingly large tax rebates we got in '01, dontcha know. But I digress.
Upon our return, I quickly wrote some rec letters that I had been asked for when I was gone (these things
can never wait unless you happen to be Peter Westergaard, and then it's okay to wait three years), and then
of course the next day we were jet lagged on the wake-up-early side. I was upandattem at 5:30 am, and Beff
was up at 5:45. We started doing work to get stuff out of the way -- including six loads of laundry, and
breakfast -- and actually had to wait around for the post office to open at 8 am so we could pick up our two
weeks of mail. Followed by a shop at Shaws, and the purchase of a new light bulb at Ace Hardware and a
new smoke detector -- since one of the old ones refused to stop doing the "battery low" beep every ten
seconds. There was a buttload of mail and a buttload of groceries with which to deal, and then while Beff
was vacuuming, the vacuum cleaner broke. So we went to K-Mart, got a new one, and got some new

pillows and kitty treats as well. There we met Seunghee, who had done a great job housesitting, and she
took her last bit of food with her, and I gave her some good paper for the string ensemble piece she had
nearly finished.
Meanwhile -- amongst the pile of mail was news that my piano concerto was commissioned by the
Koussevitzky Foundation for lots and lots of money, so I had to get them the paperwork to start getting paid
for it, and that meant registered mail at the post office. While on that trip, I mailed a bunch of bills, Beff did
the bank, and we stopped at Door and Window to see what we had to do next for the upcoming bathroom
conversion. We were told the strategy for the tile we want, and were given a tile place to look --- down by
Home Depot in Natick. Where we dutifully drove, and hated, hated, HATED the place ("please register
with receptionist for design consultation"). We went from there to the brand new Lowe's to see what they
had for tile and storage cabinets for the new bathroom, and at least settled on a storage cabinet model. Then
it was BJ's for cat litter, Loratedene, hamburger dills, what have you. Amusingly, or not amusingly -- we
were in the 8 items or less line behind someone with about 20 -- who separated them into bits of 8 items, 10
items and 3 items, and paid three times with the same debit card. Now there's someone who knows how to
work the system.
And finally -- I had promised Frank Oteri I would write a little rememberance of Dan Pinkham for New
Music Box, and I did that this morning before Peter M. was coming out for a little lesson on his quartet; it's
already been posted. We had our lesson, I did my Mus 103 syllabus, uploaded some files to the online
course space, and here I am. Tonight's meal is a Szechuan stir fry. And that's the truth. Upcoming? 2-hour
dentist appointment Tuesday (sigh), Winged Contraption performance and recording NEXT weekend, and
oh yes, the start of school.
And -- sorry to bring this up again -- my jaw hurts today. There were some days in the UK when I had no
pain whatsoever, and I thought that bedding and pillows were at least part of what were responsible. The
new pillow is, so far, not working. And we had already trashed five old ones. So tonight, an old one to see
if it's better tomorrow. Sigh.
Pictures this week are all from the UK trip, as follows. Martler and Cora's townhouse in Brighton, and the
Brighton skyline at night take from the pier. Me 'n' Beff on the beach in Borth, all the others in the kitchen
in Borth, Violet/Bitey/Bidge in Borth, Beff lookin' out the kitchen window in Borth, a Borth sunset, the
other three at midnight New Year's Eve (note wind), Beff in Glasgow with restaurant, a bangers and mash
meal I had at the Ubiquitous Chip, Glasgow Cathedral, Kelvingrove Museum, and Martler and me posing
with the headless statue in the London place.

Remembering Dan Pinkham

By David Rakowski
Published: January 11, 2007

[Ed. Note: Just as the holidays were getting underway, composer Daniel Pinkham
(1923-2006) passed away on December 18. We asked his one-time (not composition)
student David Rakowski, who was en route to Europe at the time, to offer a few words
in his memory. FJO]
Daniel Pinkham's death last month at the age of 83 was very sudden and shocking to
me. I did not know him wellin fact, every time I saw him I was a little surprised that
he remembered who I wasbut Dan was frequently brought up in conversations with

any number of Boston musicians, and usually as the source of a new, amazing joke or
story. More often than not, conversations would begin, "Wanna hear the latest Danny
Pinkham joke"? (Example: "What comes between fear and sex?...Funf!")
When I was applying to colleges to study composition, my high school band teacher,
Verne Colburn, a New England Conservatory alumnus, said that NEC would be the best
place for me, especially since Daniel Pinkham was on the faculty there. The name
Pinkham was familiar from a number of choral pieces that were in the school library
(with his name in those big capitals you get on CF Peters scores), and indeed those
were very good pieces. At the time, I remember reading a publication that called
Pinkham "America's most performed composer."
I did get into NEC, and I did go, but it was not possible to study composition with Dan
Pinkham therehe taught music history and early music, but not composition. I
therefore encountered him first as my teacher for a history of medieval and
renaissance music class that I took in 1977. I remember that he had an authoratative
manner with the material, that his lectures were extremely enthusiastic, and especially
that when he got to the point of a substantial story, he would sit up straighter, cock his
head a little, and smile broadly.
Three things stand out from that class I had with him. First, the absolute delight he
had in pronouncing the Squarcialupi Codex. So much so that he repeated it several
times and had the class repeat it. Second, a sleuthing story that brilliantly
demonstrated the importance of historical musicology: It was about a four-part motet
that someone had discovered actually had five parts. The fifth part was nowhere to be
found. Then research uncovered for what church and event it had been written, and
digging through that church's archives revealed a part book containing the missing
part to that (plus presumably another) motet. The third hooked in to Dan's parallel
career as a performer. To demonstrate the difficulty of coming up with a suitable tuning
system, the syntonic comma, and the "wolf" fifth, he spent the greater part of one
class simply tuning the harpsichord. I remember the strange seriousness of his
expression as he listened to each note, how he made the class confirm that each
successive note was in tune, and the triumphant grin he had when he played a circle of
fifths progression and landed on the "wolf" fifthespecially when a cellist in the class
grimaced.
I was also pleased that Dan had a practice of excusing a few of the best students in
the class from the final exam. Because I was one of those students that year, and I
was able to use the time to write some bad music.
Since that class, I would frequently encounter Dan in the hallwayhe always seemed
to be rushing to something, head cocked with a jaunty walk and jingling keys. But he
would always pause to say hello to me and offer another joke. Once I screwed in
enough courage to ask him why he didn't teach composition, and he smiled very
broadly and said, "I had a choice between getting performances and teaching
composition, and I chose the performances."
During one trip back to my hometown after this, I attended a high school district music
festival on which was performed a big choral piece by Dan (I don't remember the
name). It was eclectic and very changeable, climaxing on a very thick cluster chord. I

had not thought it was possible to write such hard stuff for high school choirs, and I
asked a friend how he got his note. He shrugged, "They told us to choose a note, and
that was my note." I couldn't resist telling him I had taken a course with the composer.
He said, "Wow, he must be really cool, huh?"
In the last twenty years or so I encountered Dan sporadically, usually when I visited
NEC. He always had a new story, he always remembered me, and he even
remembered what we talked about the last time we saw each other. I continue to
remember him as a spry and lanky professor in his early 50s with that big smile and
quick wit. Perhaps that is why his death caught me unawares. His passing is a great
loss.
***
David Rakowski is the Walter W. Naumburg Professor of Composition at Brandeis
University.

JANUARY 21. Today's lunch was two Boca cheeseburgers with pickles, and a salad. Breakfast was a butter
bagel and a cappuccino at Starbucks around the corner from Symphony Hall. Dinner was a Mediterranean
flatbread pizza and a beer at Pizzeria Uno around the corner from NEC. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THIS LAST TEN DAYS: 7.3 and 52.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
"Winged Contraption". I was hearing it all morning. LARGE EXPENSES this last ten days include down
payments on the conversion of the pantry into a bathroom $7000, down payment on three new cellar
windows $500, down payment on rebuilding of the mud room $900, 100 square feet of tile delivered $405,
pedestal sink and medicine cabinet $135, two large shelving units delivered $340. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During one visit to Princeton in the late '80s by me and Beff to celebrate
the fact that we had gotten jobs -- we stayed at Alison Carver's house on the floor -- Martin and I got into a
giddy thing where we made up nonsense jokes and laughed hysterically. Examples: What do dogs have that
cats don't? Credit cards. What's the difference between a deluxe pizza and the Queen of England?
Pepperoni on the Queen costs extra. What will you find on Nassaue Street that you won't find on a woman's
back? Hoagie Haven. Bob Sadin, still at Princeton at the time, had heard that Beff and I were in town, and
he called us at Alison's house -- at 2:30 am. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Since you can't see the
back of your head, does it exist? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: gastronomization. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF coughing. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hot and sour soup with
plenty of white pepper. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK three basement windows falling victim apparently
to termites. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page,
Performances, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS
SINCE SEPTEMBER: 9. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is
nothing, as far as I can tell, but the new rug gets covered with a lot of their hair when they play/fight in the
computer room. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST 3
WEEKS: 0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: Beff and I got engaged over the
phone (in Pacific Standard Time). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: "Party" is no longer considered an acceptable verb. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY:
10,229. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.24. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a chocolate-covered pine cone, one
of the dots on any Seurat painting, a half-eaten popsicle, the pit of despair.
These updates are getting a little sporadic, and I guess that's the way it's gonna continue to be for a while. It
is now SUNDAY, and I have emerged from a refreshing nap to start typing this in the middle of the
afternoon. I will finish typing this in the middle of the afternoon. And tomorrow is my brother's 59th

birthday.
Soon after the last update, I started piano etude #76, on the clave rhythm -- an idea suggested by Geoffy.
While on the train fromWales to Glasgow, I appropriated Beff's moleskin music manuscript book to
examine some poly-claves -- that is, clave rhythms notated at different speeds with respect to each other.
An etude that simply used the clave rhythm (3, 3, 4, 2, 4 of eighth notes) as an accompaniment figure or
melodic motive didn't seem it would be that interesting to write, play, or hear. So I strategized polyclaves
getting closer and closer until a monster clave -- six of them, all at the same speed, separated by a sixteenth
note each -- would come, sounding like a bizarre arpeggiation thing. Then when I got down to brass tacks,
it seemed the next thing to do was start streams of sixteenths interspersed with overlapped fast claves, and
then a be-bop solo over a clave accompaniment, and then, and then ... but I do go on. I linked to it in green
on the left.
But before I started the etude, on Friday, Beff and I drove up to MacDowell fo lunch with Stacy, and, of
course, to give more weird beer to John Sieswerda of the maintenance staff. We ate healthily and stealthily
at Harlow's, but not until after we helped her figure out how to get the weird DJ setup they have in the
library to work. On the way UP to MacDowell, we stopped at Flooring America in Littleton (MA) to look
for some nice darkish blue tile for the bathroom, and we settled on some good stuff. We were directed to
get 100 square feet, and it went for $3/square foot PLUS a shipping fee from the manufacturer PLUS a
delivery fee. It arrived earlier this week.
Friday night I came down with a fairly severe coughing cold, and spent most of the next week re-becoming
a connoisseur of cough syrups, antihistamines and throat drops. It's been unfun. The cough persists to this
day, 9 days later.
And then it took a little more than three days to crank out the Clave etude, during which Beff made her
pilgrimage back to Bangor. We had had a rainstorm here that Sunday, but it turned into a snowstorm in
Bangor, and an ice storm to the north and west of us (Stacy said they lost power at MacDowell, thus losing
internet access, oh my). So I copied my etude, etc., and got all my stuff together to begin the teaching year.
Also started thinking about the orchestral readings that Neal Hampton so generously offered the orchestra
to do.
The day before classes started, I had yet another dentist appointment. This time I found out that the dentist
had intended to fit a new crown to replace the one in got in 1988 while teaching at Stanford and after
crunching a "Hawaiian" chip. I nixed the crown idea, so I got some worn areas built back up, another
filling, and some decay removed, etc. This ended the dentist portion of the year. Then I was referred to an
oral surgeon in Concord for wisdom teeth removal, and they couldn't get good X-rays of the wisdom teeth
using the usual method that makes you almost gag -- so I posed in the panoramic X-ray machine, on which
you bite down on something while an X-ray moves aroud your head and makes a single-pass shot of the
complete mouth. I now take these to the oral surgeon. One that has to come out is growing in, um,
incompletely, and the other three are impacted. The oral surgeon will let me know what has to be done. And
then to end the appointment, I finally got fitted for the Nygar. We shall see if that helps things. I finish
being fitted on Tuesday -- soon after, I drive to the oral surgeon's office.
I went to Lowe's in Framingham for storage cabinets for the new bathroom -- we still will store food etc. as
we currently do in the pantry, but the old built-in shelves are being removed. I bought what Beff and I had
decided we wanted, and they were delivered on Thursday morning.
I have nine private students (eight composition students and a senior honors thesis) that I meet weekly, plus
Theory 2. I teach as many hours as last semester, but am not teaching an overload, unlike last semester,
when, as you already know, I was teaching an overload. So there was the usual stuff on Wednesday, and
more on Thursday, which was followed by a faculty senate meeting. During Thursday, Beff ordered a
pedestal sink and a medicine cabinet for the new bathroom online for pickup locally at Lowe's, so after the
faculty senate, it was on to Lowe's to bring back.
Thursday night was the first accumulating snow of the season, but only about an inch. It was easy to

"shovel", and the roads were in good shape, so I accepted Michael Weinstein's invitation to speak to his
students at the Cambridge School of Weston. He was teaching a course in local composers (which is what
he is, too), and was making them go to Saturday's BMOP concert, so I was there representing the concert as
well as Boston composers. I played a bunch of stuff and did my usual spiels on those pieces, and then got a
private school cafeteria lunch -- which featured slices of pepperoni pizza with ONE pepperoni per slice -about the size of your hand, though.
And on Saturday it was BMOP day. I left the house around 11:20 and drove to NEC, as I had a dress
rehearsal for my piece WINGED CONTRAPTION -- from 1991, but an actual premiere. At my usual lot,
there was the sign $19 EVENT PARKING -- which I wasn't going to pay to park for an hour. So luckily, a
metered space was available and I fed it two hours worth of quarters, had a quick lunch, happened into
Yehudi Wyner on the street, and we both went to the rehearsal. I took the Edirol with me to record the
runthrough from the back of Jordan Hall, and you can listen to it by clicking on the magenta link to the left
(it is somewhat distant and very echo-y) -- later I'll have an actual concert recording, and later still an edited
one from the recording session this morning. But I get ahead of myself.
The BMOP concert turned out to be a very good one. Three of the represented composers were at NECat
the same time -- 1976-78, me Mike Gandolfi and Mat Rosenblum -- and there was Mario Davidovsky's
violin concerto he wrote for Orpheus and a piece by Wes Matthews, who is an enrolled NEC student. I
hung around for Wes's dress -- sitting with the composer-in-residence Lisa Bielawa, who turned out to be a
lot of fun (she was going to have to emcee the pre-concert thing with composers and she asked me what
question I'd like her to ask me. I said, "How did you get so handsome?" I asked her what she'd like me to
ask her. She said, "how about a beer?") and watching the score. His piece was very nice and very clear, and
after that I rescued my car and drove to the Midtown Hotel -- a block or two away -- where I had reserved a
room for the night. After parking and getting my room, I went back to the dress rehearsals.
Where I heard the last half of Mike Gandolfi's boisterous and expertly orchestrated sax concerto, Mario's
really cool violin concerto (the soloist was fantastic), and Mathew's four-saxophone and orchestra piece -- a
wild and fun affair with some amazing sax playing by the Rascher Quartet. All this time, a strange kind of
banter developed with me and Wes and Lisa, and eventually later with Mathew. So after the rehearsal, I
went to the room, did a little vegging and a lot of coughing, and at 5:30 went to Pizzeria Uno for dinner.
From there it was to the hall, where Lisa and the concert's composers had to sit on stage and be
entertaining. And entertaining we were.
I was drafted to do the (I am told) usual brief remark by a composer at the beginning of the program to say
how much composers like BMOP (I actually used the word "duh" in my spiel -- if "duh" is an actual word)
and even (unbidden) made a plea for fundage. A bunch of Brandeis composers were at the show (as well as
hundreds of other people), and it ended up being a fantastic concert, yet again. My piece was last, and for
whatever reason, I and Gil Rose (the conductor) got TWO curtain calls (as did Mikey and his soloist).
There was a reception in the Keller Room afterwards, where I saw lots of old friends -- such as Peter Child,
Dalit Warshaw, Derek Hurst, Lou Bunk, Nathan Shields, Andrew List, Jim 'n' Willemien (who wanted to
have a brief conversation about dental stuff), Ezra Sims, Lee 'n' Kate, as well as some other Brandeis
students. After that reception, a bunch of us went to where Cafe Amalfi used to be for a nightcap, and at 1
am, I made it back to the hotel. Good thing, too, for ...
...the recording session for Winged Contraption was scheduled for two hours this morning beginning at
8:30. Miraculously, everybody came that was playing in the piece, and we covered it in 20 takes lasting an
hour and 45 minutes. I was trying to keep track of what was clammed (fluffed) in various takes (difficult
with ears that wouldn't pop), and Lisa Bielawa lent her ears to the enterprise as well, thus discovering some
stuff that had to be covered, and of course earning co-producer credit. And so then I checked out and drove
home, made me some Boca burgers, and took a nap. Which takes me up to ... then I retrieved the several
pictures I had taken at the recording session with my phone, got them ready for this update, and started
typing. Here's me: I started typing.
Beff, meanwhile, stayed in Bangor this weekend because her faculty ensemble was doing a concert at the

same time as BMOP. She, meanwhile, came down with the same cold (or we presume it is the same cold).
She also did some shoveling, since it snows more in Bangor than it does here. She also ordered a faucet for
the new bathroom online, and that will be the last thing charged to US to procure before the new bathroom
takes shape.
This week features the final fitting of the Nygar, the oral surgeon consult, a faculty senate council meeting
with the Provost, Beff's Maynard homecoming, and the beginning of the tallying of the tax stuff. Oh lawdy.
Winged Contraption, by the way, got a surprisingly positive reaction. Ezra Sims, obviously noticing that it's
pretty thickly scored in a lot of places, made light of my program notes where I mentioned I wanted to try
to "write less thickly" for orchestra, and that reminded me of my first symphony. Which I called Symphony
No. 1. And the groundwork was laid for Marilyn's appearance in my piece with them next November -- as
in, "so Marilyn Nonken is playing his concerto with us in November. Cool, huh?"
This week's pictures begin with an overflow from the UK vacation, namely -- two Glasgow at night shots
and a store in a mall actually called "Ravel". Then we have shots from the recording session this morning -Gil Rose, Lisa Bielawa in the control booth, Joel Gordon setting up microphones, Bob Schultz practicing
his part (note the glockenspiel to his left with an extra octave), and the orchestra ready to go -- except for
the violas.
And for some reason, this line got laughs: "Oh crap, there's a tuba in my piece".

JANUARY 30. Breakfast today was some rice link sausages and orange juice. Dinner was two Boca Italian
sausage things in buns. Lunch was a little (plastic) bowl of Spicy Kung Pao noodles, prepared as only a
microwave can. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 1.6 and 39.9. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the demo variations I wrote for Theory 2. LARGE
EXPENSES this last nine days includes a run to Staples for mailing bags and a big-big flash drive, more
than a hunnert bucks. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played both in Midget League (ages
9 &10) and Little League (ages 11 & 12), and was a good-hitting infielder with an okay arm. My last year
of Little League I missed most of the season with my first asthma episode, but I do recall two things fondly:
in our first game of my last season, I faced my near-best friend Mike White, who was supposed to be the
hottest pitcher in the league. In my first at-bat I doubled. In the next two, I struck out (still, that was .333
for the game). In another game toward the end of the season, we were tied and went into extra innings; our
team was the "home" team, and I led off the bottom of the inning with a bloop single (it should have been
caught). On the first pitch to the next batter, I ran to steal second, and the throw went over the fielder's
head. So I motored to third, and that throw went into the dugout. We won, and I scored the winning run.
THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is there a mathematical formula for defining the line between that
which is possible and that which is probable? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tinkerly. THINGS I
HAVE GROWN WEARY OF coughing, still. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: whatever make
the refrigerator emptier. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK exactly where all my wisdom teeth are -- that, and
"third molar" to refer to wisdom teeth. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS
TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST
VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 10. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST
WEEK would be a lot of seedless grapes -- which today I am finding on both floors of the house in various
places. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS:
0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I was the leading goal scorer on my
eighth grade soccer team (4, I played left wing). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Red is the new black. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,237. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.11. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a little contraption that makes fart noises when you press a
button, an old ladder we forgot we still had, a heat sink, the concept of carpal tunner syndrome.
Here's something unusual -- back to a Tuesday update. It is early in the morning clear and cold outside (16
degrees according to the system tray here), and I have already been to Jiify Lube and back. The part where

they try to sell you all kinds of goods and services you don't want was remarkably cordial this time, and so
I didn't get any goods and services I didn't want. And I had my own coffee, which was in a "Grumpy"
coffee mug (another dumb Christmas thing from my sister). And here I am back again, and I haven't started
being interesting yet (don't hold your breath).
What has probably taken the most of my time and energy the last nine days relates to teaching Theory 2.
The first unit, worth a fifth of their grades, is variation technique, and so there has been the looking at the
Mozart Twinkle Twinkle variations and listing the things that variations are based on -- this year the list got
to 16. I decided to write my own set of eight variations on a melody, and that is Pop Goes the Weasel. See
the green link on the left to the MIDI file -- the 7th variation is a waltz with some pretty serious hemiola
abuse, and the 8th is a march. There are some intentionally goofy things in my variations, but technically
they are near-impeccable.
So when in class yesterday I was looking over variation sets in progress, I was bummed to have to point out
the same sort of technical things going awry that the three semesters of theory previous to this class were
supposed to teach. Even down to the level of "there's no harmony here, either stated or implied" and
ranging to the similarly aggravating "you don't double the leading tone in four parts, so in a two-part
texture, and especially on a downbeat, it's even worse". As usual, there is at least one student attempting
variations on a jazz standard, and that one is challenging -- especially when the accompanying chords
occupy exactly the same octave as the tune. In any case, I am pleased that the themes for varying include
the Chicken Dance (I don't go to enough weddings to know this one -- two students did the dance for us all
in class to it while another student played it from the internet -- oh, that wi-fi thing can be dangerous), Itsy
Bitsy Spider, the verse (but not the chorus!) to Que Sera Sera, and In Dulci Jubilo. Thank heaven, no Juice
Newton this year (and thus none of that dominant followed by subdominant stuff that you have to be
wearing a leisure suit to enjoy).
As was the case for the Theory 2 class I taught three years ago, the students are charged with making a
reduction of the first of the three Nocturnes of Debussy. I gave them a little instruction in how to do it,
mentioning in passing that three years ago a student discovered a published arrangement of it by Ravel,
which the class got to use instead of actually doing the assignment. And I'm pretty sure that now-graduate
could get a good price for it from any class member if she still had her copy.
So you see, yes I do like teaching, and yes my brain, already pretty gigantic (or at least elegantly
configured) if you ask me, occasionally gets supercharged about things that are inconsequential in the
larger picture (which, by the way, for the sake of this sentence, means ME). As to the song unit, I already
have my song (it's not O Rhode Island, and it has nothing to do with a New England state), but this year
there is a twist. A little more on that later. I am NOT going to write a sonata exposition, however -- that
assignment comes as hammock season begins.
And teaching often spawns some memorable line, though for for the life of me I can't recall most of them.
But I remember one because students are repeating it. After playing "Nuages" for them I explained that the
usual rules of keys and modulations don't apply, and in fact most of the time the harmony is purposefully
ambigous. So if a composer is trying to be vague, it's like, whatever.
Meanwhile, Beff made it back for the weekend, and it was a fairly busy and eventful one (when I learn
what the distinction is between those two, I'll get back to you). The three operating principles for the
weekend were: a) it's time to tally all the stuff for our tax return and the box is the size of a large drawer
(actually, it IS a large drawer); 2) Dreamgirls and The Queen finally made it to the Maynard theater; and c)
the pantry conversion to a half bath is imminent, and Jeanine (Janine? Jannine? Jeannine?) at Maynard
Door and Window said to start clearing out the pantry -- and this was the first time they ever said this to us
-- because, I mean, why would they?
So there was the backbreaking work of separating the materials into related piles -- Friday -- and in my case
going through the checking account statements (we had only ten!) looking for all the relevant bill and check
payments. Then there was the less backbreaking work of putting the amounts into the relevant lists -Saturday -- and the mind-numbingly boring work of adding each list up -- Sunday -- and then determining

how it gets represented to our accountant for the Feb. 12 meeting -- a future date to be determined. We
always look forward to the process, mostly because "forward" is where procrastinators tend to look. The
process almost always reveals a check waiting to be cashed that was thought to be a receipt when it was
received, and which has been just sitting there in the drawer-sized drawer. This year, the amount of same
was $250. We cashed it, and apparently successfully.
We also caught the Saturday matinee of Dreamgirls, and we walked to it (daunted somewhat by the 12degree weather). For a movie with completely forgettable music, slightly better than average acting,
excellent singing, and off-the-charts production values, it certainly was too long. And there seemed to be
some implied redemption for the Jamie Foxx character, but when that happened you were looking at your
watch and thinking, "why wasn't this movie over, like, a half hour ago". I looked into the souls of the rest of
the audience (we actually brought the median age DOWN) and all of them said "like" in the middle of their
thoughts, too. Afterwards, we walked home, daunted by the 12-degree weather.
As to c), Beff did a lot of putting pantry stuff into boxes -- my first discovery was Sunday morning when I
needed more coffee beans, and -- hey, Old Mother Hubbard-like, the cupboard was bare. Beff said I could
find some in a place I'd never, ever been told to look before -- "under your laptop". Or more specifically, in
a box under the table where I often set up my laptop, even though it's in the traveling case right now, as it
has been for the last five weeks. But details, details. Later, Sunday, it was actually above freezing (global
warming? not this last two weeks or the next), so we took our patented 2-1/2 mile walk that involves the
Assabet -- thus discovering that it finally froze, and that Canada Geese really like the edge of the ice.
And so now into this week, which is rich with incident (only slightly related to wrought with irony, still life
with fruit, and dances with wolves), not the least of which is because yesterday was the last day for students
to pass in work to resolve incompletes, and not the leaster because the orchestra readings for last semester's
orchestration course are this Thursday evening. For the first time in many months, there are/were concerts
on consecutive nights I both had to and wanted to go to, and that started last night.
And so they say -- last night was a Collage New Music concert at the Longy School -- why, back in the day
(early 70s when they started), they were simply Collage. It was, as usual, a concert of very well performed
music, some of which left an impression in the memory -- Olly Wilson's piece most certainly did. Tonight is
a farewell to Lee Hyla concert at NEC, and that certainly is a must-hear. Add to all of these events the
Lydian String Quartet Saturday night with Yu-Hui's quartet, and we have the Tetrafecta.
The assembled are probably wondering how I got this far in without bringing up teeth or dentists, so I won't
disappoint. Last Tuesday I was supposed to get my new night guard (which I have been calling my Nygar,
because that's what I do) fitted, and I drove to the dentist office in rush hour only to be told it wasn't back
from the lab yet -- as of today, a week later, I still haven't been told it's ready. On the same day, I brought
my panoramic X-rays to a dental surgeon in Concord -- in a building that shares a parking lot with the
nursing home where I last saw Nancy Redgate -- for a consultation. And we scheduled a Feb. 9 extraction
date, for which Beff has to be here to take me home -- I chose the laughing gas option not because I'm not
brave, but because I've never had it, and I need new things to stick in the top paragraph of this update. They
are just taking out tooth #16, a third molar, a wisdom tooth, a little thing I like to call "Terlanoo". I suppose
if Beff can't make it to be chauffeur (weather, for instance), I'll choose the stoic novocaine option and grip
the chair very hard.
And so this weekend because of impending pantry work, etc., Beff will take the cats back to Maine with
her. This means, in a practical sense, that I'll get to work one minute earlier every morning, since the part
where I take care of the cat litter will be eliminated. With that extra minute, I plan to think about what I can
do to help humanity, solve global warming, and make us love each other just a little bit more.
Remembering that it's the thought that counts.
During the last nine days, I also paid a couple of shareware fees. Amadeus, which I use for audio editing a
lot, became Amadeus Pro, so I got the new version of that, and the old standby Vocal Writer has finally
been written for OS X, and I paid for that as well. Vocal Writer calls itself the only singing synthesizer, and
maybe it is, but it also has a whole bunch of other patches that sound like 1998 -- I'm especially fond of the

gunshot patch. Back in 1998, when Vocal Writer was cutting edge, you could import your Finale files as
MIDI files, assign instruments and actually "play them to disk" -- make a sound file of the MIDI data. It
was unique at the time, and Beff used Vocal Writer with her video and audio projects to check out timing.
Now Finale plays to disc, so that's no longer unique. Meanwhile, the interface of Vocal Writer, as well as
the whole bunch of synthesizer patches, are EXACTLY the same, so there's a stratospherically high cheese
factor in any Vocal Writer output. But I forgot to mention -- you can also get a near-hilarious singing sound
for any of your midi tracks, and so I've done that a little with some existing things (these files were created
years ago) -- and I also played a bit with the pitch bend parameter on the DEMO tracks to make the singers
sound like nervous second-graders. My experience with these tracks is that listening makes you laugh
hysterically, or makes your teeth fall out. So far I haven't seen both.
So in the magenta links on the left are a few MP3s of Vocal Writer stuff, including, in order: O Rhode
Island; my demo song for Theory 2, on an A.E. Housman poem; the fourth of the Sex Songs, text by Rick
Moody; the demo of my Country 'Tis of Thee with bad intonation; a Christmas song with even worse
intonation. Enjoy, but watch your teeth.
Upcoming: Geoffy comes Wednesday, bye-bye tooth 16 a week from Friday, followed by Brandeis student
composer concert next day, then a drive to NYC the day after that for accountant/etude premieres. So there.
Not many pictures were taken this last nine days, but we did get the cats experiencing a box we had gotten
out to package pantry stuff (first two pictures, check the pantry in the background of the second one and
compare to the finished product several weeks into the future -- whooooosh!). Then two Goose/Assabet
shots from our walk on Sunday. And for the sake of padding, a couple of pictures from New Years Eve
during the UK trip -- note wind factor as Beff opens champagne.

FEBRUARY 6. Breakfast today was some rice link sausages, coffee, and orange juice. Dinner was seared
chicken marinated in Jamaican pepper sauce, fried onions, home fries, and salad. Lunch was $2 worth of
Pad Thai noodles that cost $3.29. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 5.7 and 38.5.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker.
LARGE EXPENSES this last week includes a cargo van rental from Avis, $54, and a piece of furniture
from Pier One for the dining room, $300. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first serious
asthma attack was in the second year that I was in Little League. I remember being outdoors in my pajamas
and listening to a Little League game on the radio (the St. Albans station was always looking for stuff to
broadcast that was free), our team (the Cardinals) was playing, and I marveled when the least coordinated
and least athletic guy on the team hit a home run. And I never did. For the record, because of fewer at-bats
caused by this asthma attack, my stats for the season were 8 hits in 17 at-bats. Really. Some time later I
wast taken for the scratch test -- to determine my allergies. Results at the time were cats (this is why the
asthma attacks -- I had them until my junior year in high school), mold, feathers, peanuts, and dust. THIS
WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What is the probability that probability is an inexact science? THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: fludge. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Republican senators.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: whatever make the refrigerator emptier. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK the distinction between an SUV and a cargo van. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1
AND 10: 2. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 10. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS
LAST WEEK rubber on the little handle on the recumbent bike exercise machine, now taped over.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 1. FUN
DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I failed a vocabulary test in third grade; I used all
the requisite words impeccably, but the teacher suddenly decided that beginning every sentence with "the"
was an academically criminal offense. For the record, that teacher is now dead. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Downtown" describes a place. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,256. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.11. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the
old gray mare she ain't what she used to be, Mighty Mouse, gorgonzola surprise, the head of a pin whose

angels have deserted it for tenure-track jobs.

Fwiggin cold. Where's global warming when you most want it? I had completely forgotten that in previous
criticisms of the weather forecasters I had taken to calling them "them what make". (Geoffy used it in a
sentence, and that reminded me) And them what make were a little off on their game the last couple week,
as two predicted snowstorms turned into nothing, and one unpredicted one gave us three inches. And
meanwhile, the forecast doesn't call for the temp to go above freezing for the five-day forecast period. Why,
I oughtta.
So let me take it from the top. This seems like so, so long ago, and yet it was just a week ago. I mentioned
the upcoming Lee Hyla concert in the last entry here, and because of that Rebecca -- who now works near
NEC -- queried about dinner. I informed that there was a pre-concert reception I was committed to, and she
could go, too. So I drove in with the intent of parking next to NEC, fully prepared to pay the $19 event fee,
and as I reached the straightaway near Rossini's restaurant, the WBZ announcer piped in with, "and let's
hear about the SNOW we're getting tonight." Cue the peppy music. "Sloppy mess coming as a storm passes
to our south. It'll start after rush hour and we expect a heavy wet coating of 1 to 3 inches. Luckily, it won't
affect your commute". After vetoing the idea to park at the South Acton station and take a train, I got to
NEC with plenty of time to spare, as rush hour wasn't amounting to much. So I had a salad (yes, I had a
salad. Say that in unison, o ye of low two figures, I had a salad) and two UFOs in order to pass the time, at
the same sports bar I used to go to for lunch the year I taught at NEC. Then I walked to NEC, went to the
reception, and there was Rebecca (who by now must be astonished that I used her actual name, twice) with
a name tag. Turns out it was an alumni event, and she called herself a 2004 graduate, though she didn't say
from what school.
And my old friend Andy Hurlbut -- who used to work for Gunther Schuller during what I obnoxiously call
my four lost years -- was the official photographer for the event. We chewed over some past glories, and he
reminded me that he and his now-wife came to visit us when we lived in Spencer, where we swam. Other
old friends were there -- many of whom I'd seen at the BMOP concert a week earlier, and I made it through
two glasses of *free!* wine. Which made me totally plastered. Any thoughts of exiting at intermission in
case of snow kind of evaporated there.
And the concert itself -- being that it was a Lee Hyla concert -- was fantastic. Certainly the best concert I've
been to in years. His three greatest hits were on -- Pre-Pulse, Piano Concerto, Wilson's Ivory Bill. I was
tipsy enough after the third of those that I gave it a standing ovation -- but turned out I was the only one -blast those seats in the back. By the end of the concert, everybody else caught up with me for a big standing
o. I still needed to decompress a little after the concert, so I got a cappuccino at Starbucks and two
cheeseburgers at Burger King, came to the post-concert reception, and talked to Rob Kirzinger for a
substantial amount of time. About what I don't remember. Then I drove home in the NON-snowstorm -which by the next morning was still a non-snowstorm.
But that was just revving up for the rest of the week. Wednesday was a standard teaching day, as was
Thursday. Thursday I was fasting so that I could get a blood test, and I did so. And then Thursday night was
readings by the Brandeis-Wellesley Orchestra of final projects for the Orchestration class. I certainly had
fun (I had nothing at stake), and Neal did a great job getting the orchestra through the arrangements. I was
there recording the sessions with my Edirol so the students could have their own documents of this session.
Of course, since we spent a whole semester listening to orchestra recordings by professionals who had
rehearsed for hours and hours, they probably weren't ready for the sound of an orchestra of biology and
sociology majors giving them ten minutes. But I found it to be a supremely educational experience. And, as
the current buzzword goes -- experiential. (Ow, my fingers burn when I type that word)
Upon returning home from the readings, I found the requisite runthroughs on the data card, converted the
sounds to mp3, and e-mailed them to the students. Geoffy, meanwhile, was here for the weekend for the
Musica Viva family shows (Musica Viva is the local "we don't do Davy" group), and his rehearsal schedule
gave him Friday and Saturday completely free. He delighted in hearing the readings coming out of my
computer. Then I made him hear some music of mine from the fall. And there was beer. Beff got home
before we were asleep -- a rare occurrence -- and we stayed up giggling for just a little while.

Meanwhile, it was a weekend to start getting the pantry and mud room ready for the big conversion. After
Beff's morning dentist appointment -- which she followed with a trip to Tar-zhay for a towel rack and toilet
paper dispenser -- we went to Door and Window for a consult. Here I revealed yet another of my secret
desires since I was six (a knife magnet being one that we achieved years ago) -- let's get rid of the old
refrigerator and get a NEW one WITH AN ICEMAKER AND COLD WATER SPIGOT please, pretty
please. We were given a GE catalog to look at, chose two possible ones, and they will order whichever one
we request. We (meaning Beff) also chose a style for the doors for the new closet in the mud room and a
matching one for the soon-to-be-bathroom. Meanwhile, in the morning, Rick Beaudoin had come to the
house for his lesson -- we have a weird schedule set up, since he lives way out west -- and Geoffy was
migrating from room to room doing academic stuff for his academic job. At the end of the day, we walked
to the Quarterdeck for seafood, and Geoffy and Beffy (soon coming to a puppet theater near you) went to
see THE QUEEN at the Maynard theater (I didn't). Upon their return, Geoffy tried the "ancnoc" Scotch we
brought back from Glasgow and pronounced it eminently drinkable.
Meanwhile, Friday's predicted 1 to 3 inches of snow was superceded by what I like to call "sun". Saturday
morning, however, we woke up to an unpredicted three inches, which I promptly shoveled. It was only my
second shoveling event of the season.
As stuff from the pantry and the drawers to the right of the sink got packed into boxes, it became evident
we needed to create more storage space, and it was posited that a nice unit in the dining room would be the
way to think about going. So in the morning Beff drove to Pier One in Acton to see if they had anything
appropriate. And then the call came -- Beff's cell phone. "Rent a van. There's a big unit here, and shipping
is a hundred dollars. We can get a van for less. I'm going to K-Mart. Call me." So dutifully I went to
Enterprise, and they offered me a van for $90 for one day. I managed to withhold the profanity that such a
price called for, and turned down their very nice offer. Then I got in the car and called Beff -- who by this
time was getting groceries in Donelan's. "Well, ...... -ollars i- .... -ad fo- ... ... -ess tha- ....." My response was
"get closer to the door. You're breaking up." ".... .... -an .... ..." So I had to hang up. Got in the car, was ready
to come home and look up Ryder, and while I was on Route 62, Beff called and suggested a cargo van from
Avis. Which is right in Maynard, and yes, for $54 we could rent that SUV with the California plates (which
I was to find out later is also a cargo van).
So off down Route 27 I went, called Beff, who responded "Shoul- .... -o to K-Ma.... .. -irst?" I said no, meet
me at Pier One, I'm the one with the gray SUV. We managed to get the piece of furniture into the cargo
van/SUV and our old friend Actor-Man from Pier One helped us get it in -- only mishap being the beep
beep when I unlocked it without using the little security button on the keyring first. Anyway, it was very tall
and not too heavy, and when we got home we traipsed through the snow in order to bring it in the front
door. Disassembling the box from around the unit was fun ("mmrrrrRRRIP!" it went) and of course the cats
were molto curioso. I brought the van back to Avis ("So soon?" they said), and Beff went to the Pet Store
for a new litter box for Bangor, etc., during which time I assembled the unit (eezy peezy). Later Beff moved
stuff into it, and then we realized we needed a silverware tray -- which I up and went to K-Mart for.
Success.
And THEN that night was dinner at the Tuscan Grill -- rich enough to make me queasy and tired-looking in
the few hours immediately thereafter as a prelude to the Lydian Quartet concert. It started with a Paquito
D'Rivera piece (mostly shunting aside development and transition in favor of ostinatos) and then Yu-Hui's
piece "responding to" the Beethoven Op. 131. Yu-Hui's piece was very refined and full of invention, and
that was extremely satisfying. We skipped the Beethoven, which was the second half.
On Sunday, after we cleared yet more out of the kitchen -- including the table -- Beff left in the morning,
carrying the cats with her, plus a bunch of stuff from the freezer, and now they are in Bangor. I, meanwhile,
burned CDs of the orchestra readings, avoided the Super Bowl and went to bed early, after spending a little
while entering all the tax information into a format presentable to Jonathan, our accountant. Yesterday was
a good teaching day, and we are DONE with variations. Tomorrow, the beginnings of writing a song. So
there.

And as we all know, I get a wisdom tooth, a third molar, out on Friday. I chose the laughing gas option just
for the heck of it, and Beff will be here to chauffeur me. Saturday is a composers concert, and Sunday I
drive to New York. Tuesday I drive back. THIS Thursday I do extra office hours for Theory 2 students. And
on Monday, while I am in New York, they start gutting the pantry. Life is full. Then you die.
This week's pictures include both cats being interested in the Pier One box before Beff burned it, that new
piece of furniture in context, Sunny in the snow, that big box being burned, and the somewhat emptier
kitchen as it stands now.

FEBRUARY 13. Breakfast today was a hot croissant thing from Dunkin Donuts and coffee. Lunch was
Buffalo wings and salad at Neighborhood Pizzeria. Last night's dinner was at pizza slices at Sbarro, just off
Route 84 in Sturbridge -- note that all meals were served at restaurants. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THIS LAST WEEK: 7.9 and 36.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS I can't
believe it's this, but ... Itsy Bitsy Spider. It's one of the tunes with variations being written on from Theory
2. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include parking in New York, $54 and new fridge, $1683.81.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I don't know if the "President's Physical Fitness" patch is
still given out,but I got one when I was in eighth grade. This involved getting acceptable scores in 50-year
dash, situps, standing broad jump, chinups, throwing a baseball, and I don't remember what else. I was
woefully deficient in chin-ups, but I got one anyway. So did Mark Massa, the only other one from our class
to do so. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there Anti-Social Sciences, too? THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: pank. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Variations. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: whatever doesn't have to be kept refrigerated. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK There are expensive pianos that can seem to be eminently breakable. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, home, Compositions. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 10. FRAGILE THINGS
DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK Nothing in Maynard, since they are in Maine.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 3. FUN
DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I played in the (high school) district festival
when I was in sixth grade, got a (reel to reel) tape of that concert, and used to play along to it for months
after the concert. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Endless
summer. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,310. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$2.15 (MA) and $2.39 (CT). OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE A parade route, seventeen paris of tweezers, a flea collar, the
right answers to tomorrow's biology quiz.
I have thirty-one teeth.
So the week began as so many weeks here have, by it being Tuesday. Which didn't mean much, except that
I typed one of these updates. But not this very one you read now. Instead, there was stuff to do, places to
go. And I don't know how important any of it was. Except that I do know I was methodically emptying out
the mud room and pantry, placing the contents either onto the side porch or into the dining room, in boxes.
It was one time that our pack rat nature (i.e. saving boxes in the attic) served us well. Finally, all that was
left was some good food in and on the fridge, and I ate as much of it as I could during the week. Eventually,
some old sauces and yeast and jams and jellies got thrown away for good.
Upon returning home Tuesday, I got my blood test results and all was well. For those of you who know
what these things mean, here they are: Cholesterol 165, HDL 60, LDL 87, Triglycerides 88.
Wednesday was the teaching day it always is, wherein I introduced the song-writing unit and just barely
scratched the surface in one half a lecture (which had followed a little bit more about "Nuages"). Then a
very, very, very, very long meeting of the Faculty Senate Council (scheduled ending: 4:30; actual ending:
6:15), and, sigh, driving home in the dark. I hate those days I drive to work in the dark (M, W) AND drive
home in the dark. Thursday had its usual teaching and a department faculty meeting as well, then four hours

of office hours for Theory 2 students to show me their varations, and then at night Beff got back for her
brief stay. I continued to eat whatever happened to be in the fridge, and Thursday night was probably pretty
bizarre. Friday night was a hamburger, a chicken breast, some rice, and some salad for each of us. And
that's where we left it.
By 9:30 Thursday night I was fasting (not being fast). For on the morrow was to be a tooth-pullin'
extravaganza. And luckily the weather has been cooperating all this time (while bringing 12 feet of lake
effect snow to upstate NY, alas). Early we rose, for the appointed hour was 9:15, and we drove to the oral
surgeon office in plentyof time. The waiting room was crowded, and we sat there a good 45 minutes while
everyone but us was called on, thus eventually making us the only ones there. Finally, a little more than a
half hour late, I was called. And into a dentist chair I was summoned, I was told to remove my sweater, an
IV was attached, an oxygen thing was placed near my nose, and a nurse made jokes. Then it was second
year film school continuity: I mentioned that the oxygen thing plugged my nose, and was told it always fits
that way. The nurse said, "and the second one should be taking effect about now". Then I was asked to get
up from the chair, and I felt dizzy and doddering, and plenty of other things that being with "d".
Immediately I was on the sidewalk outside the building being escorted to the car, and then was in it. Beff
drove and stopped at CVS for what seemed like two hours (it was about eight minutes). I got a vicadin
prescription plus extra strength tylenol, and Beff got a big tub to replace our toolbox.
After CVS we stopped at Maynard Door & Window to make sure we were having a meeting that day, and I
got to be supported like a doddering fool (as I was one at the time), we got home and I laid down on the
reclining chair and chilled out. While Beff transferred the contents of the toolbox to the new tub.
Eventually I noticed there was gauze in my mouth, and Beff told me when it could be taken out (and it was,
Oscar, it was). Later, a few details about my film-school continuity got filled in: I was under for about 20
minutes, there was a consult with the doctor that I remember nothing about, the nurse commented on my
change purse, and somehow my sweater got put back on. And after two hours at home resting, I was
suddenly starving. Pickles were the next to go. Within another hour I was raring to go, and back on e-mail,
etc. And Steve and Jeannine came over for the last consult before starting the work in the house.
Saturday morning I did the fridge triage, unplugged it, and we were raring to go. Beff had to get back on
Saturday for a concert at U Maine, and also because that's where the cats are. And the Winged Contraption
BMOP performance CD finally came in the mail, so I made a few copies to send out, and stuck an mp3 in
my webspace (see "WC perf" in red on the left). But wait, there's more.
That night was a Brandeis composers concert, and of course I went -- as did my colleagues, and Rhode
Island, and plenty of students. All in all a very successful affair, with good pieces and excellent
performances. Afterwards I met a composer from the MacDowell Colony that had come to the concert with
John Aylward -- as he is at MacDowell now and had a viola and tape piece on the concert -- and the food at
the reception was pretty much as food at receptions are. And I shonuff got home late that night.
But next morning I was up bright and early, and on my way to New York! The drive there was fairly
eventless, and I got to Chelsea and into Hayes and Susan's apartment before noon. Which was good, I
guess. Got a Subway sandwich, took a walk in the afternoon, played with the two cats a bit, took Hayes and
Susan to dinner, and watched a bunch of the Grammy broadcast -- we were SOOO proud of the Dixie
Chicks. And boy did we see a lot of Mary J. Blige and Carrie Underwood. I also thought it was kind of ...
insulting ... that the Grammy academy would trot Ornette Coleman on stage to give him a lifetime
achievement award ...and immediately make him a presenter for the Best New Artist grammy. Tacky, tacky,
tacky. It made us think that Maria Callas died 30 years ago precisely so she wouldn't have to award the best
rap recording at the same ceremony on which SHE got the lifetime achievement award. Then we were
wondering why so many lifetime achievement awards were going to people who no longer had lifetimes,
and thus no more achievements. But that was a story for another day.
In the course of making fun of Grammy presenters and advertisements, Hayes and I came up with a joke
that's a variation on an old Yogi Berra line that only a very, VERY few people would ever get -- since the
cultural intersections are strange indeed. Yogi said about baseball "Ninety percent of this game is half
mental." Hayes and I said about Tristan, "ninety percent of this opera is half diminished". Rim shot. But a

very soft one.

And why was I in New York? Why, Mike and Mary, who brought me out to Kansas way back in November,
were doing a 1:00 concert on Monday at St. Paul's Chapel, way, way downtown -- a block from the World
Trade Center sight. Well, that, and I took the opportunity to schedule an appointment in Manhattan with
Jonathan, our accountant, that morning. Activity! Dense! Aaagh! So after the typical lolapalooza session
with Jonathan (and free breakfast), I caught a cab to the chapel ($10.10 plus tip) and got a driver with a
Jamaican accent who wouldn't stop talking about Anna Nicole. And there, inside the chapel, were about a
hundred tourists, and Mike and Mary, on a stage, roped off, trying to do their dress rehearsal in the din of
touristness. Which they did, just fine, I guess. The duo was doing myold flute and piano piece FIRECAT,
and Mike was premiering two of my bangiest etudes -- Moody's Blues and Heavy Hitter. The piano for the
concert was in serious need of ... being junked ... but Mike did what he could with it. His playing on my
aggressive pieces was so aggressive that there were literally times when I thought he was going to break the
piano in half (and in the performance he knocked the music of moody's Blues clean off the stand and had to
restart).
I brought my Edirol to record what I could, and I actually made a brief movie of Mike playing the first 50
seconds of Moody's Blues -- and you can see the sound files in the red links on the left, and the movie in
the magenta link. Mike's new colleague Forrest Pierce -- whom I also got to know in Kansas -- wrote a
dynamite new piece for them which also got its premiere there (fortunately, it had very little banging). And
Mary did a couple of very lovely solo pieces that I liked a lot -- including one by Paul Yeon Lee, who was
there. Paul brought greetings from Rachel Peters, who had done an independent study with me at Brandeis
in 1998. And so the world becomes smaller and smaller.
Despite the chapel being very noisy -- traffic, truck backing up sounds, subway, and old radiators hissing -it was a fun affair, a great concert, and really kind of cool. After it was over, an old woman asked me
questions about my piece as if my name were Gabriela Frank. Which it turns out is not my name. Then I
cabbed it to where my car was parked, and zipped right out of New York. Traffic was fairly light, and it was
a pretty dull drive, actually. And then I got home. No, really.
Today is usually a non-Brandeis day, but I gave 4 more office hours for Theory 2, and here I am. This
morning, for the first time, a few workmen from Door and Window showed up, moved the fridge out onto
the back lawn, and started making noises. Good thing I had to leave for Brandeis. When I got back, I went
to Door and Window itself, paid for the fridge, ate at Neighborhood Pizza, and came back to lots of dust in
the place. And saw a big pile of wood and stuffing (insulation?) in the back of a truck, as well as an external
window placed aside for safekeeping. The old pantry is now ENTIRELY gutted, down to the studs and
plumbing. Literally. And the mud room closet is now nonexistent. Exciting, isn't it? I hear some wiring gets
done tomorrow, plus some plumbing, and the refrigerator gets delivered next Tuesday, or something.
Meanwhile. Tomorrow is forecast to be the first significant snowstorm of the season, and everyone is
hoping school will get cancelled. As to here, it should be a sloppy mess -- 2 to 5 inches before changing to
rain and freezing rain, which should make driving a breeze. Or something like that. And then another 2 to 4
inches on top after it changes back over. Yuck. Big Mike (ka-ching!) has already said he probably won't
make it. And the theory students probably hope for cancellation, too, since that would give them the whole
winter break to finish their variations. Which are due tomorrow.
Meantime, what's coming up? Well, some construction in the house, obviously, and incidentally, I used the
FRONT door today out of necessity. Cleaning at the dentist on Friday, after a lesson with RB. Then a drive
to Maine where I should be spending most of the winter break. And hey, my Nygar is still not ready as far
as I know, and it was fitted when I had thirty-two teeth.
So the next update will not be within seven days. Deal with it.
Today's pictures are all from New York. First, Hayes and Susan's two cats Rasia and Fritz as viewed from
lofty perches. Then, the Empire State Building viewed from Seventh Avenue Sunday night, and the spire of
St. Paul's Chapel Monday afternoon. Next, Michael and then Mary in the dress rehearsal -- Mary is the one

mugging for the camera. Then the big picture within the chapel, and Mike, Mary and Forrest after the show.
Zounds.

FEBRUARY 25. Breakfast today was a hot croissant thing from Dunkin Donuts and coffee. Lunch will
definitely -- DEFINITELY -- be Buffalo wings at Neighborhood Pizza. Dinner last night was Trader Joe's
hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 7.9 and 50.7. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Offenbach's Can-Can (because I was thinking about the movie
"The Cutting Edge" (I don't know why) and it was their skating music). LARGE EXPENSES this last week
include new thermostat $99, heating oil $357, today's New York Times $5, various and sundry cleaning
things, cassettes, and cooking things for the Bangor house, unknown. UNEXPECTED INCOME THIS
WEEK was $406 royalties for font payments from Daniel Will-Harris's site. Oh joy, that part of my tax
return gets reactivated next year. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: chickadees, Canada geese, cardinals, and
this morning I thought I heard the incipit of a song sparrow with the part that follows kind of mixed up -- if
it is, then it is spring. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: As far as I can recall, the first pun of
mine to get a big laugh was in fifth grade. "I have to go to the rest room. Yeah, to get a rest from the
teacher." THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why do they let Cheney talk? I mean, really. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sliddle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Dust, and passing through
shrouds to get to/through the kitchen. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, lowfat
cheddar cheese slices, Peets coffee. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Maine is still friggin cold. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 11.
FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK Itty bitty bits of wicker from one
of the Bangor chairs. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I once owned green hightop
sneakers. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Nygars for everybody.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,350. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.33 in
Maine. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE the letter "p", a seedless grape, the last place you would ever look, a snood.
I still have thirty-one teeth.
Does anybody out there actually know what a snood is? It's in the Bacchae -- so-and-so enters, wearing a
snood. Turns out it's a fishnet-y kind of hair hat thing. And now I'm three times as smart as I was just 17
seconds ago. In three seconds I will be one-seventeenth as smart. And time marches on.
Now that it has been 12 days since the last update, I am pleased to report that the amount of real work I got
done was as follows: nothing. But lemme go back in time a bit, and lemme splain.
Wednesday, Valentine's Day was indeed, as predicted, a messy slopfest of a storm. In Bangor -- later in the
day -- there was a foot of snow, whereas in Boston there was rain, snow, ice, rain, ice, and snow, not adding
up to a lot, but making travel pretty crappola. Here in Maynard it was a little dusting of snow followed by
about half a foot of sleet, with some ice on the top of all that -- oh, just try shoveling THAT stuff, kimosabe.
I got up plenty early to go to work (for I start at 9 on Wednesdays), and pulled out of my driveway with a
left turn -- even though I was trying for a right turn. After passing through downtown Maynard toward the
train station, I slid a lot on the teeny little hill past the Avis place, and decided it just wasn't worth it. I went
back home and cancelled my teaching. On the WBZ website, which compiles all the cancelled stuff, it
seemed everybody -- EVERYBODY -- except Brandeis -- cancelled school for the day. Eventually,
Brandeis did cancel everything happening past 3:30, but that was too little too late. The conditions here
were awful by then -- actually, they were awful by 7 am.
I used my day off to catch up on dissertation reading. Finally, I was able to get to a Haydn dissertation, and
I dispensed with half of it while it was crappola outside. For lunch I though I'd just motor on down to the
Quarterdeck, not suspecting that the sidewalks had yet to be plowed -- meaning I walked on the road when
I could, but there were whiteout conditions that made that strategy eventually useless, so mostly I was
goose-stepping on the sidewalk. And then -- the Quarterdeck was closed. So I ate at the Sit 'n' Bull pub,

next door, and it was okay. It was very smoky inside because apparently the sleet had clogged the exhaust
fan. And I motored back, and the sidewalks STILL had not been plowed, and the streets were nearly
deserted. Then an e-mail arrived from the Provost (how did SHE get into work?) informing us that the
Faculty Activity Report was due by April 1 and there was a new online format/interface for it, and I spent a
lot of the afternoon and evening getting my information into my report. There is still work to be done.
Meanwhile, the work downstairs has progressed quite a bit. The pantry was gutted right down to the studs,
the closet in the mud room was dismantled, and plenty of new plumbing was installed in the basement -- as
were three basement windows, as it turns out. New insulation was blown in, new flooring installed (the tiles
are not yet installed), and a hole made for the toilet. Plasterers, meanwhile, have done their duty. Our new
fridge arrived and it is sitting in the middle of the kitchen because a whole bunch of old cabinetry to the
right of the sink was taken out, and a new ... um ... presentation cabinetry using some of the old little door
handles ... was built for the fridge to go into. This fridge is noticeably quite a bit bigger than the old one
(AND IT HAS AN ICE DISPENSER I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINALLY AM GOING TO HAVE ONE WOO
HOO HOO), and it will be fun, I guess, once all the work is done. The toilet, sink, etc. still have to be
installed, but that's after the tile, and the dryer hose has to be reconnected to the window by the dryer. And,
and, so much!
What the work has done is spread dust all over the house -- even a little layer of it into the upstairs rooms,
and a fairly substantial layer in the living room and dining room. I had not known that that would happen
(this is why the kitchen doorways were covered with tarps, but that was an imperfect solution), so I didn't
think to close the living room doors (which are French doors) until too late (thankfully, there is no more
dust there now than there was last Friday).
So back to our narrative. Late Wednesday afternoon when the storm abated, I shoveled the two walks,
which was actually kind of a mammoth undertaking -- for two reasons: sleet is extremely heavy compared
to snow, and it doesn't stick to the snow shovel (it tends to slide right off as you try to move it -- but luckily
sleet also doesn't stick to the roof and thus no big whoomps later when the snow falls off the roof). Door
and Window was contracted to do the driveway, and very late into the night they still hadn't shown up.
Indeed, I awoke at about 1 and got nervous about being able to get out of my driveway in the morning, so I
ended up not sleeping any more. Then at 5:50 Steven and Jeannine showed up, did some movin', and I
drove to the South Acton train station, got the 6:20 train ($6 roundtrip to Brandeis, same as two years ago,
and $2.50 in quarters to park), did my teaching for the day (two students cancelled because their cars
wouldn't start -- being covered with ice and all that) and attended a faculty senate meeting. Then my train
back was half an hour late (which is a long time when it's 20 degrees with gusts to 40 mph). I was, of
course, being me, unsatisfied with the plowing job on my driveway, so I gassed up the snowblower and
widened the plowed area, thus making my hands both fatigued and very cold. Wow. Then I returned to a
dusty house with, um, no food. So I got a chicken sub at Subway. And then I (you won't believe this) ate it.
Friday morning was first a lesson with Rick Beaudoin at the house -- who was a little late -- which was a
real trip, because it kept being interrupted by workmen (he had to move his car, and then they asked about
where I wanted doors, etc.), and a dentist appointment for a routine cleaning. And boy was the cleaning
routine! Vast improvement, no bleeding of the gums, etc (oh, they were so proud of me). And finally my
Nygar was ready, so there was an extra 20 minutes as I was fitted. I slipped it into its very un-deluxe
carrying case and into my pocket, got some groceries at Whole Foods (which is close by), motored back
home, picked up my stuff for a week in Maine, and ... believe it or not ... I drove to Maine.
One pretty important thing we had to do in Maine -- since this was the first time that both of us would be
there and cooking at home for a whole week -- was get utensils and cooking stuff. Beff had only one soup
bowl, for instance, no good frying pan, and no medium size pot. We also got a nice griddle, a pizza cutter, a
good spatula, and so forth, as well as snow melt for the front steps, a new thermostat for the Maynard house
(it will be professionally installed this Tuesday), a special dust-vac for after the work is done (spring
cleaning, such as it is, is going to be very complex this year, obviously), and even some exotic beers to be
given as gifts. I meanwhile slept every night wearing the Nygar ("Night Guard," for those of you not in on
the joke) which was alternately droolmachen and not even noticed (my teeth feel funny the first half hour

after I take it off). And on Sunday I did the other half of the Haydn dissertation, and sent it off.
E-mail during the week was not that much fun, since it was all dial-up. ONCE I was able to piggyback on a
nearby wi-fi named Caitlin, but otherwise it was slow a-goin'. And of course this was the week that
everyone I know started sending links to YouTube videos. Rarr.
Also, the cats are in Maine so as not to be terrified of the workers, and the smaller space is fun for them -they delight in going into the attic whenever they can (they do squeaky meows to get us to let them in), and
in slowly destroying one of Beff's wicker chairs. Since Beff was not also on vacation, she went to work
during the day -- and over the course of the week I got into the now-cancelled Showtime series "Dead Like
Me" -- done by the people who did Wonderfalls. I watched the entire first season plus eight episodes of the
second (and final) season, and really got into it. Something about grim reapers among us, etc. and the
multitude of layers and irony in the interaction between dead/living and living people (i.e. the expected "I
never felt this alive when I was actually alive", etc.). And music by Stewart Copeland (whom we had seen
in England on TV as a celebrity judge for an American Idol type show).
We of course did dinners with various of Beff's colleagues, and I let Chip -- the band director -- give me the
first note for my band piece -- concert D in all four horns. Chip also asked what "grade" my piece would
be, and I guess I said "Six. I mean, duh." I don't know what grade 6 means, but that's okay. Six is
apparently the highest. Ten of a Kind and Sibling Revelry are both Grade 6, and that would add up to 12 if I
were doing that -- adding things together, that is.
The only obligations for me during the time in Maine were food shopping, cooking, going to SIX places in
search of replacement Primatene for Beff, and going to a piano recital by one of Beff's colleagues -- who
studied in eastern Europe, back in the day, and that meant that Bach, Mozart, Scriabin and Rachmaninoff
pretty much all sounded the same. I left at 6:15 am yesterday in order to retrieve our held mail before the
Maynard post office closed, and I was successful at that. And I had called Door & Window to see how the
work was progressing, and they said they'd plug in the fridge so even if it wasn't in place I could keep stuff
cold -- so Beff packed some fridge stuff for me to take back. Of course, the fridge is not yet in place, or
even plugged in, or even with the blue tape stuff peeled off. So the porch is my fridge (as God is my
witness, as a smile is my umbrella, etc. -- I see an SAT question here). Upon return I of course had to
unpack stuff, and pass through the big tarps, etc., and shovel the front walk from the small storm that
passed through here on Friday.
And so today is veg day, as far as I can figure. So I paid an oil bill and did an invoice for when Amy D and
I go to U of Southern Maine, mailed them at the Stow post office, bought the New York Times at Shaw's,
and got some Dunkin Donuts breakfast stuff, and now I am here. Thinking about a complicated week
ahead. Observe, grasshopper.
Monday I do four regular lessons and try to get a time to work with Adam Marks at Brandeis (i.e. reserve a
room) this Friday. At 1 I leave for WGBH in Boston, where there is a 2 pm sound check for an appearance
by Amy B-D and me 3 to 4 (yes, it will be streamed on wgbh.org and on the HD classical part of wgbh.org
at 10). Then Amy and I will hang out a little bit afterwards, as her dress rehearsal is at 8 tomorrow night.
On Tuesday first thing I let a guy in from Dunn Oil in to install my new deluxe thermostat (it's digital and
has 7-day programming and makes users feel superior), and later I have to motor into Boston for Amy's
concert at Boston Conservatory (which the appearance on 'GBH is promoting) -- where I guess I'll do some
live program notes, just like back in the day (4 and 5 years ago -- whoa, where does the time go?).
Wednesday is an ordinary day except for an 8:30 meeting of which I can only catch the first half hour, and
Thursday is as ordinary as it gets. Hey, I think I get to leave school at 1! But on Friday I have a 10-11
meeting, and then I meet with Adam Marks, who is going to run the new talking pianist etude by me (by,
um, playing it) and I think I will bring the Edirol and videocamera to capture it. For those of you not in the
know, Adam is doing Rick's Mood, Absofunkinlutely, and Not at the Salle Cortot in Paris on the 9th as
his/my reward for winning me that Chevillion-Bonnaud thing last year, and this will be my chance to see if
the monstrosity I created is funny, sad, funny/sad, or funny/sad/bad/stupid. And on SATURDAY I believe I
am driving to the MacDowell Colony for lunch with John Aylward (and to leave a little beer gift for John
Sieswerda), and I just MAY be his ride back to Boston. And that is the day Beff returns from Maine with

cats in ... well, not in hand, but in cat carrier. CarrierS. I hope there's not much work to be done after that,
since they are going to get all skittish about strangers again if they're back after this week.
I have decided to leave lots of pictures at the bottom of this update because, well, because I can. What we
have is -- evidence of dust from the work on the coffee table in the living room, Andre from Door and
Window, the ceiling fan when it was just installed, the naked version of the new bathroom, Cammy looking
out the window in Bangor, Sunny under the covers, Sunny going to the bathroom and staring straight ahead
just like guys always do at a public urinal, how the Bangor house looks with snow, cats looking out the
door, chicken being grilled on the new skillet, Sunny on the couch, the bathroom now plastered and waiting
for a toilet, the not-yet-installed new fridge (ICEMAKER! WOO HOO!), the new cabinet for the new
fridge, and my Night Guard in my hand.
Also see the "Kitchen Movie" link in magenta up and to the left -- this is the little movie I took to show
Beff how the kitchen looked when I got back yesterday. It's your virtual tour!

MARCH 7. Breakfast today was a B'eggel from South Street Market and coffee -- I now go there in the
morning because Cathy, who left five years ago after having a child, is back, and opens the place up at a
civilized early hour. Lunch was an Annie Chun's Hot and Sour Soup. Dinner was fire-baked frozen pizza.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 5.6 and 55.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A little phrase from La Valse. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none.
BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: chickadees, Canada geese, cardinals, a whole bunch of birds I don't know, a
song sparrow, and I have SEEN but not heard robins. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In
junior high, we used to play a lot of street hockey in Andre Menard's driveway. I had good stick handling
and versatility, couldn't really defend. I was never able to make the jump to ice hockey because I had no
skates that fit. In street hockey, the word "hacker" referred to someone who was wild and not careful with
the hockey stick. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Does truth fit inside a breadbox? And do
breadboxes even still exist? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pind. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY
OF Yet more walking through shrouds and reaching for plates. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, lowfat Peets coffee, crushed ice. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Global
warming doesn't always mean higher temperatures. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5.1.
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK:
1. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 11. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS
LAST WEEK nothing, but potential lurks. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: Because
I'm allergic to wool, I always wore long johns under my band uniform in high school when we marched.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: There's a place for us. PHOTOS
IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,392. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.42. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the
small hands that only the rain has, steam heat, a pair of ballet shoes, the entry in Webster's for the verb "to
pluck".
Thirty-one teeth is what I still have.
Our long national nightmare is nearly over, and our house is very nearly worth much more than it was three
weeks ago. The conversion of the pantry into a half bath is complete save for the installation of a light
fixture -- it was awaiting Beff's selection of one -- and the installation of the little shelves into the storage
units. Meanwhile, there was enough tile left over from the bathroom that we also tiled the mud room, and
the laying of the tile happened this morning. Meanwhile, the coat closet was rebuilt and storage cabinets
were added above it, and boy was a lot of stuff painted.
And the new refrigerator WITH AN ICEMAKER WOO HOO was wheeled into place and connected this
week, and there is hardly a more appropriate word for it than bigass. On Tuesday morning, the day after it
was connected to the plumbing, I put some crushed ice from the ICEMAKER WOO HOO in our orange
juice, and Beff made a special request for that not to happen again. Meanwhile, Beff had ordered a kitchen
island online to replace the table we used to have in the kitchen, and it has storage space in it and on top of

it, and just today we started putting stuff into that -- after wheeling it into place in the kitchen and
methodically taking dust off the stuff that had been sitting in boxes in the dining room. There is still much
to do in that regard -- as the grout has to go on the tile in the mud room and thus the sliding doors then go
onto the coat closet, and THEN the storage cabinets in the bathroom are ready for being filled with the rest
of the stuff, which also has to be dusted off before it's put into place.
MEANWHILE, Beff is on her two-week UMaine vacation and she arrived Saturday with the cats. Of
course, due to all the stuff in the kitchen and former pantry where their litter box and food used to be, we
set up the cat feeding station upstairs outside the guest room and the litter box in the (now we call it the
upstairs) bathroom, and the early morning feeding time has been confusing for all -- as I've had to go
downstairs for the plate and fork, the cats follow anxiously, and I have to come back upstairs for the actual
feeding. Meanwhile, we are both allergic to dust, so the cleaning up has been pretty interesting -- and Beff
has done by far the most of it. It's interesting seeing her with the sanding mask on.
But stepping back by a week or more, there is the trip of Amy D to report -- she came in on Sunday the
25th -- the day of the last update here -- and missed her early morning plane but made it onto an early
afternoon plane on standby. On that day there was a snowstorm barreling through the midwest and passing
mostly to our south. She stayed at my favorite, the Midtown Motor Inn, and was in town to do a recital at
Boston Conervatory and a radio appearance -- with ME -- to promote it, on WGBH. She called to let me
know she made into town, and meanwhile I helped navigate her to Boston Conservatory, where she had
practice time. And then she did. Practice.
On Monday I went into Brandeis for my usual teaching, except I ended at 1 in order to make it to WGBH
for a 2 pm sound check. I had actually REINSTALLED the Garmin GPS thing on my windshield in order
to get good directions there -- turns out it was quite easy, and I got the last available parking space -- and
Rick B taught my theory class (swimmingly, it would seem -- they came out of it with a new catch phrase:
Holy Cross Relation!), occasionally tuning in during the radio spiel to hear my sweet dulcet tones (I got a
CD of the whole thing -- do I really sound that high and nasal?). I got there just minutes before Amy, and
got to know the retrofitted studio and all its cheap carpet fairly well. We planned out the order of what Amy
would play (a little Ligeti, five of me, and all of Gaspard de la Nuit), and precise timing so that it would
make a nice upbeat to the news hour, and as usual Amy played splendidly -- including all of Gaspard from
memory. We talked, she played, we talked, she played, repeat. Afterwards we chatted a bit in the studio,
then drove to the parking garage near NEC, and went out to dinner at Legal Seafoods in the Prudential
Center (she got the cioppino and I didn't).
Tuesday was a normal floppy day, and I went Bostonwards in the late afternoon for the actual recital,
parking in the usual place (see previous paragraph). Of course since I was at home most of the day, there
was the usual give and take with the workmen from Door and Window, as well as errands to run, etc. And
to return to the established timeline, I walked about around the Pru, and then happened over to Conor
Larkin pub near NEC for dinner -- it's where I had lunch before every day of lessons I taught at NEC and I
got used to the place. From there I walked to Boston Conservatory (by now it was quite cold), happened by
Rodney Lister at a coffee shop (I guess he was going to the Boston Symphony), and went to the concert.
There I met Michael Lewin, who had set up the concert, for the first time, and Yehudi came, too, and it was
a lovefest. I did my usual spiel about the etudes before Amy's set of two groups of four. Oh yes, and Dalit
was there as well as some other people I had met, and there you have it. For some reason, a lot of people
were quite impressed with Rick's Mood, because it's highly chromatic and also nothing but major triads.
Which means it were a might pretty.
After the concert, Michael Lewin took us to the restaurant in the Colonnade Hotel, and I had to leave before
any food was ordered, in order to get home before midnight -- with an early morning schedule, after all.
The drive home was its usual eventless self. Wednesday and Thursday teaching were also spotlessly clean,
with a caveat -- which will be explained later in this update.
For Friday, I was scheduled to meet Adam Marks at Brandeis, where he was to play Rick's Mood and Not
(the talking piano etude) for me for the first time, and I had reserved practice time. Meanwhile, a slop storm
was predicted for us -- snow changing to sleet to freezing rain to all rain, and it was unknown when the

changeover would happen and when the roads would be okay for driving. So we planned for Adam to meet
me here in Maynard and both of us to go together -- which happened. He got to see the house and the
construction, and hey -- by 5:30 am (of course I was awake that early) the changeover had already
happened, and the roads were okay to drive. Okay enough, in fact, for me to get some food and imbibement
at Dunkin Donuts in Stow. So the drive into Brandeis was fine, Adam got some practice time, and then he
played Not for me. It was wild, wild, wild -- I made a video (he doesn't want me to show it to you) and a
recording (I'm not telling you where it is), and forwarded them to Rick Moody, who had written the text,
and we had great fun trying to make suggestions for what to do next (I think he suggested it be acted a little
more -- and that is what Adam says he has been doing). Sometimes the piece is very strange, sometimes it's
quite funny, sometimes it's almost terrifying. But I now I know how to make a minimalist text sound
emotional.
And Adam and I presented to Eric Chafe's modernism class, as he played Absofunkinlutely for them and I
did my usual spiel. I also pointed to the chair where Adam sat in his slacker Music 101 days (Dahlia was in
it) and tried to give Adam a chance to let them know what the life of the in-demand performer is like.
"Nice", I think Adam said. Anyway, Adam played it twice, and the second time a bunch of students stood
behind him to see his hands. Then it was off the the Quarterdeck in the driving rain, and then Adam made it
back to New York. Today I got an e-mail from him informing that he'll be interviewed on Radio France
tomorrow and they'd probably play his Orleans performance of Absofunkinlutely. So there. The premiere of
Not happens Friday at the Salle Cortot in Paris, by the way, which is rumored to be the "Tully Hall of Paris"
-- an acoustically great medium sized hall. But what do I know?
On the weekend arrived Beff, and what you already know happened. It got nice and mild for a while and
then a deep freeze started on Monday -- record cold, I believe, more like mid-January. And windy. Pretty
crappy, if me is who you ask.
But before Beff arrived, I drove up to the MacDowell Colony for lunch with John Aylward, who is resident
there, and we did Harlow's as usual, and I left some very expensive beer for John S, as usual. It was
suddenly quite mild, odd for the day after a slop storm, and the sun in the early morning heated up the rain
on the trees and other surfaces so quickly that everything seemed to steam. Since I had named an etude
after a similar occurrence at the MacDowell Colony (Les Arbres Embues, aigu accent over that last e, and
meaning Steaming Trees), I had to take a bunch of pictues of my own steaming trees. One is in evidence
below. And anyway, when Beff got in, we retrained the cats on their new/old/new/old/new house.
To start this paragraph, I inform the gentle reader that I am temporarily on the wagon. So I have been
wearing my lovely night guard regularly since the 16th of February, and it was okay for the first week, but
after I got back from Maine the old mouth pain started right back up -- even to the point where it was
occasionally excruciatingly painful on Wednesday and Thursday of last week. Monday of this week things
actually felt better, but I made appointments with both the doctor an the dentist to scope out this problem
that the night guard was supposed to help make go away, and yesterday, Tuesday, I finally got a name for it:
TMJ Syndrome. TMJ is the big joint in your mouth stretching just about from ear to ear, and teeth
clenching is one of the causes, as well as stress, various misalignment, etc. and the doctor advised
ibuprofen and prescribed a muscle relaxant but suggested the underlying cause be identified and dealt with.
I.e., avoid stressful situations. And she advised regular exercise to relax (don't all doctors prescribe
exercise?), meditation, yoga, whatever, and once we turn the clocks ahead -- THIS WEEKEND! -- I'll have
more light (and hopefully warmer weather than this deep freeze) to take constitutional walks, etc. Hmm,
TMJ syndrome. It's got a name, and I have an ironclad excuse to avoid stressful things that people want me
to do. And the muscle relaxant cannot be taken when you are having alcohol. Hence, on the wagon.
Speaking of stress-causing situations -- last week during a routine look under the kitchen sink for
something, I noticed that everything under there was soggy -- and then discovered that that was because the
drainpipe under the sink -- the metal part between the sink's pipe and the pipe going downstairs -- had
corroded clear through, and anything going down the drain was just dripping into the little storage space
under the sink. Sigh -- stressmachen. I had to put a bowl there to catch drippings, put up a sign saying no
sink usage, and that made doing dishes or even making coffee quite a chore -- as I now had to bring the
coffeepot into the back yard to empty the dregs and drain it. Etcetera. Sigh. Luckily, the plumber already

hired for the home job finally fixed it on Monday, during which time the toilet and sink were installed and
connected, and the fridge icemaker apparatus connected. On Monday night, I used the toilet #1) for the
very first time, and delighted at telling Steve of Door and Window, and later Jeannine, about it. "Know
what I did last night?" "I used the toilet downstairs!!!!" "Know what I did then? Hmm? Hmm?" "I
FLUSHED!!!!!"
So it's the time of year when so much crap is going on at the 'Deis that people schedule 8 am meetings. I
had such a meeting today, and it must have been a stressful one, because the old jaw started doing the
hurtin' thing, continued for a while, and then felt better later. Oh yeah -- and when I got to the dentist, it was
late afternoon and she was much behind (waiting room was full). So I rescheduled for 7:30 on Friday
morning. Talk about early morning meetings.
So soon after I post this, I take the first muscle relaxant pill. Given my history, I expect not much. But hope
for the best.
Upcoming: Amy D does the show again at U of Southern Maine on St. Patty's Day, and I'll do the etude
spiel and give some composition lessons and a public talk. Adam does a show in Paris on Friday, as we
know. Amy repeats her concert in Portsmouth the next day. Theory 2 students have their art songs
performed in class on the 19th. And I meet good old friend (MacDowell '00) Anna Schuleit at the Harvard
Faculty Club on the 29th for lunch to talk over details of me mentoring a Peterborough public school
student for a project celebrating the 100th anniversary of the MacDowell Colony. That would be cool.
This week's pictures begin with two in the WGBH studio -- in the first see Amy at the piano, and in the
second see the deluxe table where we sat for the interview. Then, see our new bath, the just-tiled mud room
before the sliding doors go on, the kitchen island, the refrigerator WITH ICEMAKER WOO HOO in
context, the toy piano bench with dust on it before it got cleaned off, and one of our steaming trees from
Saturday morning. And better etude recordings from the Mike Kirkendoll-Mary Fukushima show in New
York arrived, so catch those references in red above and on the left.

MARCH 17. Breakfast today was a Boca meatless sausages with some melted cheese, orange juice, and
Strange Flavor Coffee. Lunch was a shared vegetable pizza, blackberries, and some limeade. Dinner last
night was 93% lean burgers, home fries, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK:
1.9 and 70.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Smokey Robinson version of
"Ain't That Peculiar". LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY:
chickadees, Canada geese, cardinals, a whole bunch of birds I don't know, a song sparrow, downy
woodpeckers, white-breasted nuthatch. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the next to last
week of Tanglewood 1982, we composers were asked to submit what we had written there to be considered
for the big composition prize. As one, almost all of us decided to eschew the competition. It turned out, all
the instrumentalists and conductors also decided not to compete, and so at the awards ceremony it was
decided to use the prize money to fund a 1983 Tanglewood residency. I imagined whoever got it would
have to write a LOT of thank you notes. But I never got mine, Jack. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
striggleness. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, variable New England weather, wet feet.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Edy's Lime bars, spicy olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK
Songs are more natural for theory students than variations. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND
10: 5.12083503. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I
GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
Sunny now likes to sleep between the folds of the sleeping bag in the practice room/guest room.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3. FUN
DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: When I played organ at my sister's wedding, I
was wearing a leisure suit with a color that has no name and wearing white socks with yellow stripes.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I'm the new me. PHOTOS IN
MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,432. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.52. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the
second hand on an old Timex watch, the third time I ever saw your face, holding forth, a fifth of gin.

As far as the number of teeth I have goes, thirty-one is it.

As I type this (afternoon of March 17, 2007), I am scheduled to be hanging with Amy D and Dan
Sonenberg at the University of Southern Maine (that's in Gorham, 10 or 15 miles west of Portland) wherein
Amy does a masterclass, I do a public talk and some private meetings with student composers, and Amy
does a recital with some live program notes from me. But alas, a Nor'easter blew this way yesterday and
today, and by the time we would have had to drive to Gorham (84 miles for Amy, 123 miles for me), the
roads were crappola-rama and there was still freezing rain falling. Indeed, in the morning I drove to CVS
downtown -- a nice 0.9 mile drive -- and the freezing rain made a sheet of ice on my windshield (i.e. I
couldn't really see, and stuff, and I utilized a LOT of wiper fluid to keep it from freezing again, though that
didn't actually work), and there was a bit of slipping and sliding if you went faster than 25 mph. So we
cancelled -- or more likely, postponed until next spring.
Meanwhile, here comes the context. And let me start, like, around the time of the previous post. I started
taking muscle relaxant pills for TMJ (such is as it says on the bottle), and at first there was not much
difference (as I predicted). But after 4 or 5 days, things improved, I made it through this whole week
without any particularly bad pain, though some stiffness was still in evidence. And for once -- for ONCE! -I was at full strength, so to speak, for Theory 2 on Wednesday. I called my doctor, as I had been asked to,
and was only able to speak to a nurse, described my progress, and I got 10 more to take. So there. What I
can report, then, is progress (though still in the middle of the day I do feel something like pressure on my
temples and I have to pop my ears some), and like Mayor Goldie Wilson, I suppose I can make progress my
middle name. And I have discovered friends who had the same thing, all of whom got over it and
sometimes get it back. Lovely. Some of them also have lovely night guard stories.
Meanwhile, over the 6 or 7 days following the previous post, little things got added to the big
bathroom/mud room project that brought it closer to fruition -- a light fixture was ordered, arrived and
installed; an old 2-prong outlet was replaced by a quadruple 3-pronger; the metal piece on the doorjamb
that engages with the doornknob assembly was installed; new handles were put on the sliding doors in the
mud room; and the plastic handle on the storm door in front was replaced (a worker had broken it). So as of
Tuesday this week, the job was officially, and finally, finished. Hallelujah. Now we are waiting to see just
how much extra all the other stuff was had done will cost us (e.g. tiling the mudroom floor, building the
cabinet for the fridge, beadboarding and wainscoating in the bathroom, assembling the kitchen island) on
top of the half we already owe.
So frigid Arctic cold came back for several days, and it kind o' sucked -- in fact, the coldest day of the year
was about eight days ago (hence the low of 1.9 degrees, above). A gradual warm-up caused some pretty
serious spring fever -- even to the point of putting out the Adirondack chairs last Sunday, getting out the
bicycles and oiling/inflating them on Tuesday morning, and even doing bike rides Tuesday and Wednesday.
On Tuesday it was just me after getting home from doing some office hours, and it was the shortest
possible ride in our retinue. Wednesday it was over 70 when I got back -- and since I was feeling not much
TMJ, I was elated -- and I took a longer one that also involved two significant uphills. Thursday rained and
Friday snowed -- as did today -- so now the bikes are just laying in wait for the next warm day.
By Tuesday, the fourth consecutive day with highs over 50, enough of the snow had melted that the
crocuses started to come out -- mark that on your calendar that this year Crocus Day was March 13 (last
year it was March 16, and the year before it was considerably later). As usual, I went out to take pictures of
them, pretty much indistinguishable from the pictures I have taken in previous years. And of course on
Wednesday that became T-shir and shorts day (last year I don't remember when that was), which was my
silly-looking attire for my bike ride.
Meanwhile. My duty with the Faculty Senate Council called, and that meant a meeting with the President
of Brandeis University on Thursday afternoon. It also meant other various things that kept me at Brandeis
from 7 am to 7:30 pm -- and thanks to daylight savings time, it wasn't completely dark when I left.
Zoomaphonic! And that was my longest day there yet. I spent NO time there Friday, choosing instead to
stay at home, watch it get colder and colder, and wait for the snow to sleet to freezing rain to begin. And, by

the way, the statistics are: there was exactly a foot of white stuff (snow underneath sleet underneath
freezing rain), with an extremely high water content.
So that meant that Maynard Door and Window came by and plowed out the driveway at about 5:20 this
morning, and then at 7:30 -- by which time I was up, not sure yet whether I'd be doing the gig at U of
Southern Maine -- they sent the shoveling brigade. Who did the schmutz left behind by the plow, and both
sidewalks. I then touched up, anal as I am about this stuff, especially as the wide part of the driveway near
the garage was not shoveled. So I took out the snow rake, raked two sides of the garage roof, the porch
roof, and the other porch roof, widened both sidewalks with shovels, and engaged the snowblower in the
very difficult task of getting this heavy white stuff out of the way -- it tended to want to climb the big piles,
rather than move them out of the way. Later, Beff and I did some more pushing of the snow off the roof
from the computer room (Sunny enjoyed tasting a little snow, too), so that ice jams won't seep into the
alcove.
I couldn't help thinking that exactly a year ago as of yesterday, Beff and Carolyn (ka-ching!) and I were
painting, leaving the pantry window open for the cats to look out, and resting on the Adirondack chairs
afterwards. Oh yes, and taking crocus pictures that are suspiciously similar to this year's crocus pictures.
While over here, the snow started around 11:15 and just would not stop.
MEANWHILE, continuing my habit to report out of sequence, since my doctor (or actually a nurse
representing him) prescribed exercise, Beff and I went out walking whenever we could, including our 2-1/2
mile Assabet loop, and the Summerhill Road loop, the old train tracks, etcetera. And then we started to
inquire about replacing the kitchen window for one that insulates much better and gives more light. We
were given two estimates for two kinds of windows (flush with the wall, and bowing out, bay-window like)
of which the flush with the wall version is considerably less expensive. So that is what we plan to do. In
August. When we are in Vermont and the house is empty.
Meanwhile, Adam Marks's gig in Paris seems to have gone well. He was interviewed on Radio France and
he spoke about my music, he said the gig went well and the music was very well received (which is good,
since everything he played was by me), and as is usual for anything requiring technology, a few technical
glitches with amplification caused some strangeness at times. Then I got word that the Koussevitzky
Foundation didn't have the contracts I and BMOP had signed, which I had sent registered return receipt
requested, and had a record that they had been delivered at 1:43 pm January 12 -- so we have to sign them
again. Sigh. And meanwhile, our own PhD Seung-Ah got a Goddard Lieberson fellowship from the
American Academy of Arts and Letters, and we all got happy about that.
And on Tuesday, Beff rented a van for too much money from Enterprise, and drove to Albany to get stuff
from her father's condo that her sister was storing so that her brother can eventually put it in his new house.
Right now two leather chairs are on the side porch awaiting their final fate. Since I was at school all day,
Beff had to move all the stuff herself. Which shows that she is both strong, and determined.
So now it is two weeks until our Passover vacation begins. In those two weeks will be quasi performances
of the songs written by Theory 2 students, and the beginning of the sonata form unit. That is fun, too,
because where the quality of the songs is pretty good, usually the sonata assignments range the gamut from
execrable to extremely good. And then there is more faculty senate council stuff, and a colloquium
(finally!) by Yehudi Wyner, which has been in the works since at least 2000. But mostly I am looking to
March 29 -- when I get home I won't have to be at Brandeis again until April 11. And what it is, too.
Zounds.
So it turns out Mike Kirkendoll also put up videos of his performances of my two bangy etudes in NYC on
his site -- I have supplied sky-blue colored links on the left to those movies, which I also retained the mp3s
from last time. And the kitchen walkthrough movie will stay up. Since so many people (2) who watched
that movie asked what was in the freezer, I have made a point of including that in the pictures below.
Speaking of which -- here we have yet another shot of the finished bathroom, this time with the cat litter
contraption AND new wastebasket, followed by the refrigerator with the full complement of magnets on it.

Next we see the Adirondack chairs on Monday (by Wednesday all that snow was long gone) and on Friday
night. Next we compare a closeup of crocuses to a picture Beff took of me shoveling this morning (that's
me, with the shovel, hence the "me shoveling" thing there). Then there is how Iarranged the egg storage
space in the fridge, the Powell Flute Factory as seen this morning, and the open freezer and open
refrigerator so all can see what we have there. Yes, there are THREE airtight drawers, and the bottom one
has become the default beer storage place.
Upcoming? Grad composer concert next weekend, lunch with Anna Schuleit to talk about a MacDowell
100 project a week from Tuesday, and vacation, late in the day on a week from Thursday.

MARCH 25. Breakfast today was fake eggs, grapefruit, orange juice and coffee. Lunch was a pesto chicken
and tomato sandwich. Dinner last night was a salmon entree, ice cream and espresso at the Tuscan Grill.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 14.5 and 56.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS One of the songs from MUS 103. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are dinner
at the Tuscan Grill, $132 and a lame-ass hammock, $45. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: NEWLY heard this
week for the first time this spring are a mockingbird (it perched just outside the front door of the Slosberg
building, not more than 15 feet in the air) and Phoebes (in the woods near the local dam). POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: From about the time I was 8 to the time I was 12, the family took a 1- or
2-week camping trip every summer to a place with campsites, most often to Island Pond, Vermont. This
involved a trailer that had two foldout beds and an extra room that zipped to the front. Always on the first
day I would do echos on the lake and by the second day be too hoarse to talk. And usually I would have
repeated dreams of visits of my friends from the planet Jupiter. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
triundate. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, variable New England weather, PurgeGate.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Edy's Lime bars, Real Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK
The name of the two little pieces you put on the window to latch it closed. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Reviews 4, Performances. NUMBER
OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: They really like sitting in the windowsill of any window that is open.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. FUN
DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I prefer laceless sneakers to laced sneakers.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Snowing not allowed after
March 21, and especially not at night. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,332. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.55. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a mass of burning tires, a leaf that survived the winter without
falling off the tree, the battery you forgot to buy for your flashlight, an old recording of "Maniac" by
Michael Sembello.
Spring and winter are currently doing one of those Clash Of the Titans things they traditonally do this time
of year. I blithely report that my spring fever is normally more severe than that of those around me, and one
symptom of that is the sheer volume of crocus pictures I take. This year, however, I am astonished at how
hardy the crocuses (croci?) are. For you see, since on the 17th we got exactly a foot of snow dumped on us,
covering the crocuses until Friday the 23rd, and when a small bit of snow around a stand of crocuses
melted, the crocuses came right up. In fact, all the croci that were up a week ago Tuesday were back on
Friday, and this time there is also a stand of daffodils way in the back making their first appearance. True to
form, I have those crocuses in pictures now in both the pre- and post-storm time periods. I can't tell the
difference just looking at them. Oh yeah, and the rhubarb is making an appearance, too.
But back to more mundane things. Last Sunday, the day after the storm, the roads were certainly passable,
and I took that opportunity to drive to my office and have two and a half office hours for students who were
finishing up their songs -- their second project for Mus 103 (the two projects so far have counted as 45% of
their grades). I got quite a few customers, and things shaped up rather well. For you see, on Monday we
had Slosberg Hall reserved during class time for performances (more like readings in some cases) of the
final songs on stage, and accompanied by Seunghee -- who was paid out of the fund we call "Davy's

pocket". You may remember that Seunghee was also the housesitter when Beff and I were in England. In
any case, I recorded them all with the old Edirol, and had burned CDs to hand out in class on Wednesday.
The styles of the songs ranged from Handel and Mozart to Brahms, with some of them mysterious in their
sourcing. By far the most popular poet for texts: Wordsworth.
Tuesday's only excitement -- other than the excitement of it not being a teaching day -- was driving all the
way to BJ's and Whole Foods for staples and Whole Foods had a whole bunch of new and novel grilling
selections, some of which I chose for homewardness. Indeed, the swordfish kebabs became yesterday's
lunch, and they were yummy (just like sevenths and ninths!), and some of the pesto stir fry chicken went
into sandwiches for today's lunch. I also tried the "People's Pizza" they now sell -- two flat pizza crusts and
packets of sauce and cheese. I went for the Romano variety, which meant the sauce was a puttanesca, and it
was quite good. I had both of them at various meals, so there was none left for Beff, so there. And it's the
only pizza I ever had that specified for the temperature of the oven to be 500 degrees.
Wednesday was a regular teaching day (with extra teaching because Yu-Hui was in Miami and I introduced
augmented sixth chords to her class), and was warmer as well, and that meant a little lounging on the porch
when I returned home. Thursday was a day I actually dressed up, as I was appearing with my homeys on
the Faculty Senate Council before the Board of Trustees, and that meeting was successful. Then was my
regular teaching for Thursday, followed by a Senate Faculty meeting, and a GREAT colloquium by Yehudi
Wyner. Great because the music was so good, but also great because I finally copped a recording of his
piano concerto. Yes. Alas, it was dark-ish by the time I got home, so no spring fever sorts of stuff. Big Mike
(ka-ching!) went to the colloquium, and I invited him to see the new bathroom, fridge, etc. on his way
home, and he did, Oscar, he did.
By Tuesday, by the way, temperatures were ranging back into the normal area, and that meant lots of wet
and spritzy roads. It also meant long periods where the side porch door could be open, and of course
melting of the snow in the yards. During the week, our local retriever Molly had popped by several times in
search of dog bones -- her tracks were evident, as she always took the same route. By Friday, when the
melting had reached a torrent, her tracks became a path, and then eventually they disappeared. Meanwhile,
Beff had ordered a new hammock to put on our frame, and it arrived, so I took it out, assembled the frame,
and tried to stretch the hammock on it -- sigh, it was short by about two feet. So off I went to the hardware
store for some chains to extend it, and that's where I found out about the chain link piece you can get with
the gap that has a screwed-in piece (too hard to describe, but if you know what it is, you know what it is). I
installed the chains and the hammock, and ... major sag right away. So I tightened it, got on, and more
sagging ... so I decided to put the old grody one up, and I laid there a little while (even taking my usual
first-hammock-of-the-year with a beer shot) and noticed that the hammock smelled a little like a cat had
marked it while it had been laying in the garage. So back went the new stretchy one. Which we are going to
have ONLY until another one, a proper one, arrives. I made Beff order a new one online (also some bowls,
but that's a horse of a different color).
My Home Improvement accomplishment of the week was replacing the SASH LOCK on the back window
in the computer room. That is the name for that piece that latches that allows you to close the window tight.
The hardware itself costs $2.29. The act of fixing it without throwing things: priceless.
Meanwhile, Beff was delayed a day by UMaine stuff, so she didn't get back until Friday night. Saturday
morning she saw the hammock and realized she'd made a mistake getting the underpriced one. I'd said I'd
be surprised if it lasted the summer. She sat on it and said she'd be surprised if it lasted a month. So she
steeled herself to order the good one she should have ordered in the first place. Meanwhile, we've got the
new springy, saggy one for a while. Beff got her hair cut downtown, we had a nice swordfish kebab lunch,
Maynard Door and Window came over to look at the back porch whose floor we think needs replacing, and
the attic windows which I also want replaced, and then we took a bike ride -- my third, Beff's first, of the
season. Yes, plenty of spritz there, as snow melts onto the road, dontcha know. When all was said and done,
it was time to get ready for the graduate composers concert at Brandeis. Beff had made reservations at the
Tuscan Grill in advance, so that was where we up and went for dinner. We both did the salmon special
($26!) and had Pinot Grigio.

Meanwhile, winter was extending a last-gasp and sinister tentacle. A batch of energy was supposed to
swoop in from the U.P. of Michigan and drop a quick inch or three of snow to our area overnight, and the
forecast on the Weather Channel under the "snow advisory" said it would start as rain, mix with snow, and
change to all snow at around 10 at night. Assuming it was the usual grad concert over by 9:30, then it
looked like a fine drive home. With just a bit of dusting to deal with.
So after dinner when we left the restaurant there was just the slightest spritzing going on. Beff and I waited
in my office, and were surprised to be accosted by KEN! Ueno, just in town from Rome. And Hillary, in the
audience! Yes, they were at Brandeis to hear the premiere of Lou Bunk's piece, a piano trio that is his
dissertation, and for which I was the first "reader". Beff insisted that I show Ken my movie of Adam Marks
playing the talking pianist etude, so I played part of it, and obviously from Ken's face he didn't know how
to react. So we up and went to the concert, and we sat right in back of Hillary and Ken, and next to Yu-Hui.
Nothing seemed amiss, but there WERE seven pieces (not unusual) listed, and I knew Lou's was about 15
or 20 minutes.
So there were four pieces on the first half. And they were all long. Normally Lou's music stands out in these
kinds of concerts because when it's surrounded by skitterish music that some of the composers at Brandeis
write, it seems much more relaxed and introspective. But nearly everything was quite slow. And quite long.
So Lou's piece didn't stand out as it usually does. Just as the second half was about to begin, AT NINE
FRIGGIN FORTY, I looked outside and saw that it was already snowing. Coming back inside and noting
that there were only three pieces on the second half, two of which I advised as compositon teacher, things
looked good for a not-so-bad exiting time. Alas, TEN FRIGGIN FIFTY-FIVE was when the concert ended
-- and despite a lot of very lovely stuff that was on that second half -- some of it that was lovely enough to
make me NOT think of the long twisty and slippery drive ahead of me -- I thought mostly about -- the long
twisty and slippery drive ahead of me. I also did some thinking that I should have found an excuse to leave
and promise to catch the tape. So I'll be making my apologies to the composers who wrote some lovely
stuff that I didn't care about because it was snowing.... and anyway, we exited directly, got into traffic, and
the roads were very good until we crossed the Waltham line, and then they became difficult to see because
it seemed like the car was being pelted by albino muffins and lots of them (big puffy snowflakes for those
of you who tend to take me literally), and shortly a tailgater in a truck was riding my bumper. Not a good
situation for one with TMJ (I tried to unclench when possible, but it took great concentration to do that
AND drive AND try to see beyond the albino muffins). But luckily, I didn't feel the wheels slipping under
me until we were almost in Maynard.
We arrived home in good shape, if a little harried.
Nota Bene. Had to stop typing to go to Kate Housman's horn recital. It ended with the Brahms trio, which
was good.
...if a little harried. Went to bed, got up, had fake eggs etc. (see above) and started the big round walk,
which was cut short due to footgear. Then Beff went to Maine for her teaching week, and I started to type
this. And eventually, finished.
Upcoming: with the exception of a Friday morning meeting with Rick B., my vacation begins
approximately 1 pm on Thursday, and continues until the 10th of April. Bitchin. Tuesday I meet Anna at the
Harvard Faculty Club to talk about some sort of MacDowell 100 project. Gotta get the piano tuner over.
And my piano homeys gave me a couple of great etude ideas for work during the break (Corey, in
Vancouver, suggested an echo etude, and Mike, in Lawrence, Kansas, re-suggested a mirror etude).
Meanwhile, Beff goes next weekend to a festival in Kearney, Nebraska (she pronounces it "Carney"), and it
turns out my homeys in Kansas are doing "Gli Uccelli" on that festival. Is that cool, or what?
Note all of you that the "Kitchen Walkthrough" movie is still up, in case you want the virtual tour of all our
new stuff. This pictures begin with the yard late Wednesday where you can see Molly (the dog)'s
accustomed path to look for bones as well as my footprints from when I raked the garage, etc. -- then
there's Friday's First Hammock And Beer picture, the hammock this morning (you're supposed to see that it
is snow-covered), the crocuses peeking out as soon as the snow over them melts, closeups of crocuses and

the rhubarb just starting, and two shots from this morning's walk -- near the river reflection shot, and yet
another dam picture.

APRIL 6. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with melted cheese, potato pancakes, orange juice, and
coffee. Lunch was a peppery hot and sour soup. Dinner last night was ... hmm, I think I forgot to have
dinner. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 24.1 and 66.2. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS News theme music for Live at 5 (because one of the gestures I
used in a piano etude just written remind me of it). LARGE EXPENSES this last two week are the balance
of the cost of the bathroom conversion, $10,322, a duplexer for the big printer, $483, high-quality
hammock $110 and piano tuning, $90. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: grackles, red winged blackbirds, redeyed vireo. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first year living at Berrien Court in
Princeton -- my second year of graduate school -- David K and I had a Thanksgiving dinner at the house
with all the people we knew not going home for Thanksgiving invited. It was Beff's first year at Princeont,
too, and Steve Dewhurst was hanging around trying to finish his Masters degree, and he brought a frozen
turkey and tried to thaw it fast. Thus, serving was a little later than planned -- actually, about three hours
later than advertised. For some reason, Mona Solomon, a sociology PhD student that lived in the grad dorm
with us and who dropped out, was around for the dinner, too. We decided to give out "awards", and the only
one I remember was what we gave Beff -- "Nookie of the Year". THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
Narcissitude. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, snow in April. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS: Edy's Lime bars, Sun Tea mixed with real lemonade, frozen Trader Joe's stuff.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The number of cigarette butts left behind by the bathroom workers, now
that the snow is gone. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.11111. REVISIONS TO THIS
SITE: This page, Reviews 4, Performances, Bio, Compositions, first page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I
GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
Sunny loves growling at and chasing away a local tiger cat, and now BOTH cats give little pathetic "mews"
when I say the word "treats". RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST WEEK: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: In 1975 after a I had had
measles for a month, my weight dropped to 92 pounds -- and I was the same height I am now. WHAT THE
NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: No matter what it is, atonal composers get in
free. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,342. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.59.
OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE a downward spiraling trend, a pair of left-footed boots, the maple syrup left over when you throw out
the bottle, a frozen rope.
Happy Good Friday! It's not every day that I can use the sequence "happy good" in a sentence without
being ungrammatical or silly-sounding, so I am posting TODAY. Happy good! Happy good! Happy good!
There has been a lapse in reportage, so there is plenty about which to talk.
First, on Tuesday the 27th I got all happy good dowdied up -- wearing the silverish shirt, the silverish tie,
and the nice suit, to have lunch at the Harvard Faculty Club with Anna Schuleit. I actually drove in a little
early in order to have some time in Harvard Square for shopping and browsing, and oddly enough, I ran
into my colleague Allan Keiler in the classical record section at Newbury Comics. It so happens that I could
pretty much grab all the classical records they had in stock (my clumsy way of saying it's a small section),
but I did pick up the complete Schumann piano music, played by Ashkenazy ("he bangs! Tell me if you like
it", said Allan) and a bunch of Chopin played by Arrau (yes, all dead composers), as well as a Signal to
Noise magazine (article on Milton Babbitt by my homey Christian) and a box of bandages made to look
like bacon strips (I figured it'd be nice for the downstairs medicine cabinet). I also got a few wind-up toys
for the picture window in the bathroom (soon not to be a picture window) that look like characters from a
Beatrix Potter novel (how many first names do you know that end in "x"?) -- something cute about an
upright Peter Rabbit walking toward you in that inexorable way.
And then was lunch, and the day was the warmest one of this recent time period -- I remember it feeling a
little close as I waited at the door. Both Anna and I had the buffet, while she explained to me her project for
the MacDowell Centennial around medal day in August (as it turns out, on my eighteenth wedding

anniversary). Ten former fellows (since I've been there eight times, then that makes me a fellow fellow
fellow fellow fellow fellow fellow fellow -- suddenly I hear "Try to Remember" from the Fantastiks (which
could end with an "x", couldn't it?)) to be matched with schoolchildren from Peterborough on 4-minute
creative projects (those of you not good at doing math in your heads should know that adds up to forty
minutes), along with a whole bunch of working telephones set up everywhere (actually, a hundred -- did I
mention Centennial?) that will ring, etcetera. What I liked was in the project's prospectus it was mentioned
that the phones reference "The Colony's signature privacy"-- how very Madison Avenue. Anyway, I said I'd
do it, and so there and what it is, too. Also it was left open when she and her boyfriend would come to our
house for something. Later that week I was asked for a bio for the Medal Day program, and I did my
signature humor -- as well as my signature making sure the staff is acknowledged. It ends "When he grows
up he wants to be like John Sieswerda or Blake Tewksbury." Which is screamingly funny if you know the
MacDowell Colony. And then, I came home, all dowdied up (fellow fellow fellow....).
The rest of the week was spent with my signature teaching, some of it bodaciously good, the rest of it was
good when it was very good. My exit from Brandeis at 1 on Thursday was to represent the beginning of my
vacation time, and mostly it did. Beff got in late that night, and on Friday we did what exercise we could -we went to Maynard Door and Window to choose a "composite" wood for the new floor for our back porch
-- which we intend to have replaced before the summer -- and in the afternoon we took a bike ride -- one
not too long, as it was Beff's first of the year. Otherwise, we did what married couples do (you know,
married stuff), and I spent a long time in the afternoon on the hammock -- which I kept moving as the
shadows moved. And -- oh yes! The cheap-ass hammock is now in the attic, as a new, crispy one with good,
thick rope arrived and I installed it. And I used it as often as I could (which has certainly not been in the last
week. Later I will splain). And meanwhile, Beff read the New Yorker magazine in an Adirondack chair. I
brought out the remaining lawn furniture, and Beff did a lot of vacuuming (which she always does).
But even more fun was in evidence mid-day! Ross was in town, and he happened by for lunch (he is now a
vegetarian, and we'll see how long that lasts), and he pulled up just as we were putting a new tarp over the
storage thing in the back yard ("Aaa-ooOOOh", I was saying as I was trying to get it over the top). I made
some CD copies for him, gave him some CDs, we walked to a Thai restaurant in town (he was with us
when we stopped at Door and Window), we came back, and we talked about stuff. And as you may have
read in this space last November as a prediction -- he reported that they hired Kurt Rohde at UC Davis. Big
duh there, by far the best composer on the market this year. Meanwhile, I had told him that on several
evenings, we had gotten calls from the 752 area code with a number I didn't recognize, and I asked him if
that was his, and he said yes, it's a Davis area code and it may have been Sam or Laurie calling. So later
that night I picked up when that number called, and ... it was a fund-raising call. Note to college new music
ensembles: DON'T give the numbers of your donors to the fundraising office, because they may just stop
giving. We won't, of course -- I was speaking hypothetically, and that makes me think -- is there such a
thing as hyperthetically? Anyway, Ross had to get on the road to hear a BMOP dress rehearsal in, of all
places, Amherst. So he did, Oscar, he did.
Meanwhile, Beff had a very early plane to catch on Saturday morning, and she was a little worried about
getting the right driving route to the airport -- SO, I said I'd get up and get her onto 128 in my car, while she
continued to Logan, parked, and took her flight. We left at 4:10 am, and I was beginning to work by 5.
FIVE!!! Beff, meanwhile, flew to Denver, changed planes, and then took Turbulence Air to Kearney,
Nebraska, where she was to have a piece played in their new music festival. She spent Sunday in Hastings,
where her college roommate now lives (and she's also the minister who married us those -- guess how
many? Answer is earlier in this rambling narrative -- years ago. And meanwhile, my homeys from the U of
Kansas were also doing a concert in the same festival. Including not one, but TWO pieces of mine: Heavy
Hitter (etude 73) AND Gli Uccelli di Bogliasco. So they got to meet Beff, and they remarked that she had
very good English. Another sign of what happens with married couples through time was evident -- I had
told Mary Fukushima (one of the homeys) that I'd write her a key-slap etude for flute, just because I wanted
to use the title "Slap Happy". When Mary told Beff I was writing her a key-slap piece, Beff said, "Why? So
he can call it 'Slap Happy?'" In any case -- things happened, and Beff got back VERY late Tuesday night,
after which she drove to Maine. Arriving (as I called it) at 3 am. Just before THE STORM. But I am getting
ahead of myself.

Since I didn't do diddly during the February vacation, I was bound and determined (happens just before
bound and gagged, and just after gagged with a spoon) to get some compositional work done. So I asked
several of my etude-playing people for etude ideas, and I followed through on two of them. Corey Hamm
suggested an echo etude, and Mike Kirkendoll (also of the U of Kansas posse) suggested a mirror etude. So
since I had had a mirror idea floating around since the first time Mike suggested that (around the time of
my seventeenth wedding anniversary), and since I also needed to write the ONE etude in Book 8 that I can
play, I chose to write a slow mirror etude and a fast one. Meaning I wrote THREE since last Thursday after
I got home from school. In fact, dear reader, you can look at all three by following the fatigue-green
numbers 77, 78 and 79 on the left, and even chuckle at the MIDI of the two fast ones. And -- lo and behold
-- I am just an etude short of finishing another book. Anybody with good etude ideas? Serious enquiries
only. And writing those etudes has been the main activity during my vacation -- especially as on Sunday it
started to get unseasonably cold, and the sun stayed behind the clouds from Sunday afternoon until late
Thursday afternoon (yesterday).
INDEED -- it turned out that Beff got back to Maine just in time. Because a forecast of light showers of
snow and rain mixed turned into a full-blown snow event here -- Wednesday afternoon here through the
early morning witnessed about two inches of snow -- which melted VERY fast from the roads and
driveway, but still leaves a few traces in the yard. But in Bangor, the snow started later on Wednesday (Beff
had driven at that ungodly hour for a concert that night), kept going, and cancelled school on Thursday
morning. Indeed, Bangor got nearly a foot, and lots of stuff was cancelled, and lots of people lost power
due to the heavy snow breaking trees and power lines, etc. So we got off a little on the easy side.
So what else happened in between bouts of composing? Well, I did as many walks for exercise as possible,
since it's far too cold to ride a bicycle, and that included one of the paths on Summer Hill. For once I tried a
fork of a path I hadn't encountered before, and I took that all the way to the other side, bringing me by the
school-converted-into-artist-studios, and around. On another walk to the post office, I stopped at Door and
Window to feed the dog, but also to hand-deliver the check for the balance of the bathroom conversion, and
they got me sitting down and talking, and gave me two maroon baseball caps with their logo (MDW, they
say). And stuff. And that's about the sum total of outdoor activity for me, since it's been too cold for most of
it.
Meanwhile, I had started thinking about the process of doing the parts for my piano concerto, on top of the
many times on weekends Beff has come into the computer room and asked, "now how do I do double-sided
again?" It's been so complicated that we simply use the copying machine in the guest room to do doublesided copying -- which is going to be a real bear when it comes time to produce fifty parts for an orchestra.
So I drooled and I drooled, and I finally decided to drop the money on the automatic duplexer that I could
have gotten if I had gotten the super-deluxe version of our printer. I ordered it directly from HP, and for
shipping options, here were my choices: UPS ground, $10. UPS Second Day $17. UPS Next Day, free.
Hmm, somebody not paying attention over there ... in any case, it arrived on Tuesday and I installed it -- it
tucks in in the back between the two paper trays, as it turns out, and it was extremely easy to install. The
next step was to update all the printer drivers on the computers so that they know the duplexer is available
(not too hard), but then finding where in the Print dialog box you tell it to do automatic double-sided
printing was not so easy. The manual had said it's in the "Finishing" tab at print time, but it turns out that
was the case for Windows, not Mac OS X -- finally after poring through about a dozen technical docs on
the HP site, I found the answer -- it's under Layout, and hey -- you can even choose between long-side
binding and short-side binding. Success. It looks really bizarre when it's doing double-sided printing,
because half of each page starts to get ejected, but then it gets sucked back in to be printed on the other
side. As if it changed its mind a lot. See the sky blue "Duplexer movie" up and to the left.
So then the issue became working the parts so they could be directly printed double sided -- the piece is in
four movements, which means four files, thus four files per part. I experimented with batch printing to see
if the jobs could be sent as a stream of pages, but that didn't work -- if, say, the first movement took 3
pages, it printed on both sides for pp. 1 and 2, then printed 3, and then ejected the page. Then the second
movement would start on a fresh page, as would the third and fourth. So since not all the parts are even
numbers of pages in every movement, I was in a quandary. I did discover the batch print (or batch
anything) feature in Finale, which allowed me quickly to create whole lot of PDF files without doing much

work. But I was in a tizzy (not a Tin Lizzie, which is something else entirely, but thanks for playing our
game) about how to accomplish this, when on a lark I opened Adobe Acrobat -- we have the full version
because when I got the new computer I got Adobe Creative Suite 2 -- for Illustrator, an html program, and
especially for Photoshop -- and it comes with CS 2. So there on the task bar was "create document from
multiple files". BINGO. So I did all the parts using Acrobat, putting the four separate files for each part into
single files and then tried doing a double-side bass part. BINGO! again. Though I then noticed my own
stupid mistake in extracting the parts, where page 4 was followed by page 6, meaning I had to figure out
the page turns again. So soon, my pretties, soon I will print and bind all the parts. Because it is what I do. It
put me in a happy good mood.
And this morning Steve Chrzan came to do the yearly piano tuning -- which he hadn't done in two years -and the usual banter about how crappy the piano is, etc., ruled the day. Indeed, as he was leaving he said,
"so make sure and call me if you ever get a piano." In any case -- he fixed a few sticky keys, got it
sounding good and in tune, and off he went. He had to enter on crutches due to a foot operation he'd had -removing a nasty sliver -- but he did just fine. And while he was tuning, I finished the 79th etude, upstairs
on the Klavinova. I rule. Happy good.
Now #77 and #79 qualify as two of the hardest etudes of the whole set. Sorry about that, guys. But when I
think "echo" etude I think of the lame-ass musicians that play in subways with their delay boxes, and the
way they get a chord sounding by arpeggiating, and adding to the structure by playing some more as it
fades, etc. MY etude has multiple simultaneous delay boxes (yes, the delay ranges from two eighth notes to
four eighth notes with lots of odd numbers of sixteenths in between) and multiple simultaneous echo
sonorities, all decaying independently. So some bars have a different dynamic on every note (I rule).
Meanwhile, the slow mirror etude came out nice and pretty (I rule), and the fast mirror etude is definitely
pipistrello in uscita dal inferno territory. It actually sounds pretty hip, even though I know it's damn hard,
and usually the left hand is playing the inversion of the right hand, a sixteenth later (I rule). Zounds.
Speaking of etudes -- I found a review online of Adam Marks's Paris performance of three of them, and you
can find them in Reviews 4 (click on Reviews, then on 4) -- finally after a string of pretty good reviews, a
fairly wretched one. And I like reading it. And I love the notion that it's not possible to write a piece using
only major triads because Satie did that already. And I remember -- it is only Europeans who make
pronouncements about art that begin "It is no longer possible to ...." to .. to write a requiem after
Stravinsky's Requiem Canticles (yes, a European said that). But I seem to have gotten off the beaten path
here.
Beff is on her way back for the weekend as I type this -- the snowstorm necessitated some rescheduling of
lessons, so she is leaving mid-afternoon -- and then it is Easter weekend. Tuesday I drive to MacDowell
again, this time to see an artist, Bradley Wester, that I know from VCCA 2003. Wednesday school starts
again and (gratefully) I note there are only 3 weeks of it left, and on that very day I get to see Bob Moody
of the Theater department do that same "bullshit that makes you sweat" that I did in September -- a public
lecture honoring his elevation to an endowed chair. Meanwhile, further off into the future is a reschedule
April 20 and 21 of a mini-residency at the U of Southern Maine that was cancelled due to a snowstorm,
Justin Rust's dissertation defense May 9, and in late August, school starts up again. Agh!
In any case. Still four days left to this vacation and I don't know what I will do yet. Don't want to write
another etude, and don't have enough time to start the Barlow Prize piece. So I will be going to the
bathroom, playing with the cats, and eating. Good way to spend a vacation when you've already written
three new etudes.
It's been a crappy week for taking pictures -- the ones I include below were done specifically for this
update, and for no other reason. The first two are from my walk in the woods -- the path, and an ancient
stone wall. Next is Cammy just as I started typing this, the printer with the duplexer installed (it is just
behind where the cord plugs in), the beginning of Wednesday's snowstorm, and the frozen version of some
penne Arabbiata I got at Trader Joe's -- the things that look like pepperoni are actual dollops of the sauce,
frozen. Kuhl.

APRIL 15. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with melted cheese, potato pancakes, orange juice, and
coffee. Lunch/dinner (eaten at 4) was an all-natural pizza from Whole Foods. Dinner last night was grilled
chicken sandwiches and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 25.0 and 54.0.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Mahler's Mitternacht, from the Ruckert Lieder.
LARGE EXPENSES is heating oil, a little over 500 bucks. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: Eastern wood
peewee, and finally the robins, now back for more than a month, have started singing. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played both Midget League (ages 9, 10) and Little League (11, 12)
baseball, and in Midget League was shortstop for the Pirates. Who knows why, but the coach tabulated our
batting averages, and mine was .358. There was one game in which I hit a grounder and clearly beat the
throw to first base (there was at least half a second between my foot hitting the bag and the ball hitting the
first baseman's glove), but I did not argue. But a little later in the game, the first base umpire heard us little
kids making jokes about what a dumbass he was and he left in a huff, on his motorcycle. I do not recall who
took his place. I also was embarrassed at times in Little League when my father would be the plate umpire,
who would be so flamboyant in his pitch-calling that immediate family couldn't help hoping nobody
noticed we were ralted -- I mean, it seemed like he started making the call before the ball was even halfway
to the plate. Well, strikes, anyway. The "Steeeeeeeeeeee-rike!" thing, dontcha know. Luckily, he didn't
umpire any of my games. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Gristoon. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF the stationary low over northeastern Canada. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS:
Edy's Lime bars, Sun Tea mixed with real lemonade, piccante olives, Real Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK How deep postholes can be. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO
THIS SITE: This page, Performances, first page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: I made a second catnipsock, and both cats go crazy over both of them. One for each floor! RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE: I and Mike White were the first two in seventh grade French to demonstrate that we
could count to a hundred in French. For that, we each received a "bon point". WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Every word beginning in "s" now begins in "th" -- but just
for one day. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,400. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $2.66. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE the way we were, a stiff jab to the midsection, all the words that rhyme with
"traitorous", something with wheels that go sideways.
The week and some change that was, was. That gfornafratz stationery low over northeastern Canada parked
its little ol' butt there just as my Passover vacation began, and it's been cold and poopy ever since, causing
snow and sleet, here in friggin April, three times now. Last Thursday, even, it started to rain and snow in the
morning, changed to all rain, and then soon after I got home, snow and sleet mixed in, and there was
enough to accumulate on the ground and still be there the next morning. Today, even -- it is a Sunday -- in
the morning there was rain and sleet mixed, and enough to cause a very minor accumulation. It is now
gone. In Maine, Beff says there were about 3 or 4 slushy inches in the Thursday storm, dunno about the
current one. Which is being called a Nor'easter, despite the fact that it is currently in North Carolina, and
which is forecast to give us about 3 or 4 inches of rain. Well, winter didn't arrive until the second half of
January, so I guess it's only fair that spring proper is a month late, too. But those poor crocuses.
Since the happy Good Friday update, there has been plenty of going to the bathroom, eating, and sleeping,
as well as a resumption of teaching, and a little ebb and flow of the TMJ thing (I felt very little on
Wednesday and Thursday but have this weekend) and all that. The weekend after the update was fairly dull,
since I decided actually to do vacation stuff -- but it was too cold for a trip to the hammock, so it was
mostly indoor going to the bathroom, eating and sleeping.
By Monday, it was marginally fine to go outdoors -- it was like late February weather -- and I began the day
-- 8:30 am -- by hiking over Summer Hill and taking the long way to Maynard Door and Window. Why
there? Why, it's because they sent us estimates to replace the attic windows and to replace the back porch
floor, and I took the occasion to bring the down payment checks with me, as well as some dog bones for
their dog Zoey. Who was so looped and excited that I started calling her Gonzoey. I'm clever and
spontaneous that way. I also got to cash the checks for our Massachusetts and Maine refunds, adding up to

not a whole heck of a lot. Later in the day I hit K-Mart, Staples and Trader Joes, and by the time I got back
there were several 20-foot long lengths of the composite material that's going to be used for the porch floor
in the garage, sticking out of it by a foot or so. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
And later in the day after another walk for the sake of exercise -- too cold to bike -- I started thinking about
the fence in the back yard. People who visited were always surprised that our yard went WAY out beyond
the fence. Indeed, the fence enclosed maybe an eighth of our land, and truly we are really the master of all
that we survey. And then last October the big ailanthus tree fell through the fence, making it less of a fence,
and more of a not-fence, totally wiping out one section, and seriously injuring another one. That blight has
been there for a while, and it always reminded me of crooked teeth. Perhaps that is so because it has also
been the Year of the Dentist. Beff and I have been talking since the beginning of (calendar) spring about
getting someone to take most of it down and just leave a portion between the Adirondack chairs and the
stand of pine trees.
So later Monday afternoon, when the sun peeked out for a bit, I looked at the small section by the gate by
the driveway and idly wondered how hard it would be to take out a section of fence between the sidewalk
and the side porch. With a bit of push on the two posts, I actually loosened it enough to take it clean out
without damaging it -- as I was thinking I wanted to keep the option of reinstalling it. I deposited the
section of the fence in the back where we toss our used Christmas trees, and returned, idly wondering if the
post right next to the porch could be uprooted. After a lot of pushing back and forth and rotating, I started
pulling it up, and managed to move it. About two inches. After more pulling, another two inches. And so
forth. But eventually I actually got it all out. And again, I brought it to the discard place.
So there was now a blank part of fence there, and the swinging door just looked silly. So with a lot of effort,
I also pulled out the post on which the door was hinged. And brought it to the discard place. Then I took out
the broken section of fence near the back, took out the section between it and the back hinged door, and
took out the post between them. This was a lot of work, and I felt a strain in my right groin. Which went
away after an hour of rest. So then I took away the section of fence near the lights by the driveway, and a
post, and then the very small section by the garage, and then one section right next to that one, and another
post. A good day's work. At this point, I still thought the fence might go back in. Meanwhile, there was
enough sun that I left the window seat window open for the cats to go in and out freely, and Sunny
immediately went for one of the post holes -- about two and a half feet deep -- trying to see what was down
there. When I mentioned to Beff, she brought up that Sunny's cuterebra from a few summers ago must have
come from a similar hole. So I had to strategize on how to fill the post hole.
On Tuesday I was appointed to drive to MacDowell to have lunch with Bradley Wester, a really cool artist
whom I met at VCCA in 2003,a and I was feeling all outdoorsy. By 8:30 I was back at 'em, finishing the
removal of the entire span along the driveway. This was no small task, mind you. For fill, I drove to Ace
Hardware for topsoil, where I found that one 45-pound bag filled two and a half post holes. Good thing I
had bought four bags. I then removed the back door piece and the pieces all the way to the shed, and by that
time it was time to drive to the MacDowell Colony.
Bradley had the Star studio there, and he showed me what he's been working on the past four years, and it
seemed marvelous. He talked about a job prospect -- a first teaching job, at age 52 -- and we dined at
Harlow's, both getting the "Smoked Turkey Thang". After getting back, I removed yet more fence,
including all of the back -- which meant I had to re-tie the tarp, since two of the corners were tied to the
fence -- and two sections along the Adirondack chair side. I didn't do anything with the one section right by
the house and bulkhead that seemed to be anchored to a metal pole in the ground with a cement plug.
Because I had no idea what to do with that. All the holes got plugged after I made another run for topsoil,
and I had a five-minute rest on the hammock before it became too cold. I then thought I heard peepers in
the distance, so I got out the bike to ride to the local frog pond (near Erikson's Ice Cream), but none were in
evidence. Bummage. So there was a little preparing for teaching, and off to bed, young man.
Wednesday and Thursday were signature teaching days, and then I got back.
On Friday morning Rick B came by for his usual lesson, and we had decided we'd tackle some Belgian

brew I got for him in Maine after he finished his teaching at Brandeis for the day -- 1:30ish. In that time, I
sawed off that one remaining section of fence, and then took the brace pieces off the metal pole that was
still there, and then tried in vain to pull the pole out of the ground. Nuthin' doin. A bunch of concrete broke
off at ground level, but the post wasn't goin' anywhere. So out came the shovel. I dug and dug, and finally 2
feet down hit some cement that was attached to the post. I dug a bit around that, tugged on the post, and
nothing doing. Afte another 15 or so minutes of digging, finally, the post moved a bit. More digging, and
finally with all my might I got the post out, and had to use my own weight to get it up to ground level, by
falling sideways. No way I could carry that post and the enormous heavy plug anywhere, so I
wheelbarrowed it to some scrub ground in the far back. Whoo, finally. And nowhere near enough topsoil at
hand to fill that hole. So back to Ace I went. Total number of bags of topsoil utilized plugging postholes: 9.
Then I got a deluxe supreme pizza from Neighborhood Pizzeria, Rick and I demolished the pizza and beer,
and he left.
And meanwhile, I have promised to speak in Eric Chafe's mod music history class about my piano quintet
"Disparate Measures", so I took quite a while making a nice handout detailing the progression of things in
the piece -- see the green "Disp. Measures lecture notes" link on the left. I also made a whole MESS o'
copies of the score, and of "Gli Uccelli" in case I have to fill up some time in the class. At the start of the
break, I had put together 24 CD cues to illustrate stuff in the piece, and put together 24 more, and burned
some CDs of those tracks. I rule. And meantime, I started looking at some pieces I'm going to analyze in
Theory 2 that I either haven't talked about in a while, or that I have never talked about -- including the
Mahler Mitternacht I mention way at the top of this update.
Also the generals papers came in and I got through maybe 8 or 9 of 14. And the recording of Adam Marks's
concert in Paris with Not, Absofunkinlutely, and Rick's Mood arrived, I made an mp3 of NOT for the
benefit of Rick Moody, who l-o-o-oves it (so do I, it turns out), and listened to all three tracks a few times.
It turns out the microphone for Adam made a big difference -- indeed all three etudes were excellently
done, no thanks to the snotty French reviewer (see Reviews 4). See the magenta links up and to the left if
you are interested. Remember, now, that "Not" is a talking pianist etude -- a pianist is a pianist, of course,
of course.
And ALSO, Amy D sent images from the next iteration of her webpage which looked pretty hip -especially as she got such good pictures this time. And she knew that WGBH had put the pictures they took
of us at the radio station last February into a presentation, accompanied by, of all things, a guitar
performance of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (it is, after all, public domain music, and my music is not), and
it pretty much proves that ... both of us were there. Click on the gray link above left if you don't believe me.
Or if you do. No matter what you do, you have to click on that link, since "belief" is binary. Don't tell
Chomsky I said that.
Yesterday, I went into Brandeis for Arum Chum's piano recital (Schoenberg, Chopin, Bach, Brahms, all
very good). And today -- after some more score production, I went into Brandeis for 3 office hours to help
students with the sonatas they are composing and there were NO customers -- ironic considering how long
we negotiated in class over whether I would have office hours on Saturday or Sunday. On the way back, in
the rain (did I mention we got sleet and rain this morning, enough for a brief light covering, before it
changed to all rain, sometimes heavy?) I stopped at Whole Foods and got some good stuff, including
raspberries -- hey, when do we start getting cherries again?
More teaching this week -- Ravel in Theory 2 on Monday and Mahler on Wednesday -- as well as Open
House for students accepted to Brandeis who are making their selections, and I am involved there. And
that's on Thursday. Friday I meet Beff in Gorham, Maine for lunch, we go to a composer concert at U of
Southern Maine, then we stay overnight at Dan Sonenberg and Alex Sax's apartment, and I do a public talk
and some composition lessons on Saturday -- AFTER which, that same night, I go to a Brandeis New
Music concert. And after all of that is the Festival of the Arts, and there's no stoppin' me.
Two and a half weeks left of classes. And of course, right after that is when everybody wants to have
committee meetings. Blah.

The pix for this week are pretty fence-centric, as you might have expected, but before all of that -- first, a
sapsicle (frozen maple sugar on a tree) from in front of our house just before Beff and I took a walk -- and
then line patterns on a frozen puddle that looked better if you were there. Then there is the first PURPLE
crocus of spring from last Tuesday, and a stand of daffodils ready to flower. Next is Bradley's studio (Star)
at MacDowell on Tuesday -- note snow and woods. The next five shots are our fence at various stages of no
longer being fence, and the last two are the two piles of posts and fence sections in the discard area. I rule.

APRIL 28. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with melted cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last
night was Trader Joes Cioppino, no salad. Lunch was a small frozen pizza (heated up). TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 36.7 and 86.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I
TYPE THIS Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head. LARGE EXPENSES any time I go to whole foods, $120
or more, books and CDs from Amazon $72, traveling 19" inch monitor $229, tabloid size card stock, $13,
music $92. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: They're all back and red winged blackbirds were very prominent
as I biked along the Assabet, but I did not yet hear the veery. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: In the early days of the Griffin Music Ensemble, we tended to have meetings at Beff's
apartment in Cambridge. Since Ross was consistently a half hour late, we got in the habit of telling him the
meeting time was a half hour earlier than it actually was. Our first season -- 1985-86 -- finished out at
$10,999, including the champagne reception after our first concert. Eventually Richard Buell was to use the
phrase "tricksome and witless" in a review, later in the season. What a nice guy. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: Toople. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Republican scandals RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Sun Tea mixed with real lemonade, piccante olives, Real Pickles,
hamburger dills from a giant jar. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The true cost of garden sheds. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: a feisty little number larger than 5 but smaller than 6 that goes
by the name of "gristoon". REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 13. CUTE CAT THINGS
TO REPORT: I open the window seat window for them often, and after running around for five minutes,
they park themselves in the window. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I have
two pairs of excellent, full-price flip flops I haven't worn yet. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD
BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Dow 14,000. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,416. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.73, $2.77 and $2.83 (could it be only last November that I read that gas
was going below $2.00 soon?). OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a mispronounced word that seemed to have begun with
"snickle", a deck of cards missing the ten of hearts, an earplug made out of cement, the two little pieces of
paper you throw away after you put on a new bandage.
Thirteen days separate the last update from this one, and I like that. I had been complaining about the cold
weather that persisted for the first half of the month, and a stubborn Nor'easter was about to arrive. That it
did, and dropped a ton of rain and wind here, and persisted for four days -- in fact, the state of New
Hampshire just got declared a disaster area because of it. In one of my constitutionals, I saw that the level
of the Assabet by the bridge on the Maynard-Stow line was higher than I'd seen before, or at least that I'd
taken a picture of. There was some water in the basement that got taken care of by the sump pump, but
otherwise nothing here was catastrophic. Then the warm exploded and Monday set a new high temperature
record -- 86 in Boston, 87 here, and 88 officially according to the Weather Channel page. Yesterday's high?
50. Ah, spring.
So with all that funny weather stuff happening, there was a decided transformation of my teaching manner
and attire. Especially the attire. I went from the traditional black jeans and sweater to black jeans and
Woolrich comfy shirt (which Yehudi always, always, always remarked on because he got one for his
brother). And on Tuesday, a day on which I went in (details shortly), it was shorts and the Davy t-shirt and
flip flops. Monday was an interesting day because it *was* so suddenly hot, and the campus sprang to
summer-type activities. Including a barbecue in front of the Shapiro student center with free hot dogs, etc.,
and I had one. Indeed, I took several walks around campus (since exercising at home wasn't much of an

option -- I had a meeting at 5) and frisbees could be found everywhere.

And on Monday I had class outside. In the shade of the dorm next to the music building, utilizing a
boombox and a keyboard, both operated with D batteries. Which made them heavy to carry. As to
classroom teaching, in Theory 2 we moved past compositional exercises to what I call "close listening"
(because I can be pretentious, too) -- basically analysis of various pieces beyond 1850, with students asked
to suggest some pieces. I made it through Mahler's Mitternacht and Urlicht (the "ends in 'cht'" pieces), the
slow movement of the Ravel Piano Concerto in G, Debussy's Voiles -- paired with Vanessa Lann's "DD",
because of the whole-tone material -- and other pieces I've already forgotten. Up on deck is more Debussy,
a Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel song, a Kalmer and Ruby song, a Beatles song, and, by class demand, a
Sondheim song from Into the Woods. We sure get inclusive. Also related to class, I held 12 extra office
hours for compositional help on Sundays and Tuesdays, and the six hours of Sunday hours produced
exactly one customer. Tuesdays brought most of the class in, and that was fine since I had flip-flops on this
last Tuesday.
Speaking of which -- it was still nice weather on Tuesday, but I had agreed to talk about my piano quintet in
Eric Chafe's Modernism in Music history course, and that I did. I had a CD with 48 examples prepared, and
talked and talked and talked. The class had precious few questions, and then when I saw what I had done I
left. Turns out my piece is about a Great Blue Heron, and a closed-to-open gesture that's repeated several
times in the piece. Well, that and C sharp. My talk was followed by 3 office hours.
On those warmer days I did get a chance to get out on the bicycle -- on Sunday the West Acton ride and on
Tuesday afternoon my first Boon Lake ride. First time there in six months, and the same shaggy dog
recognized me and approached me for a dog bone. Luckily, I had two, so he got one in each direction. Boon
Lake is still pretty, and the path is as bumpy as, or bumpier than, ever. It was nice to do it during the
bugless time of the year.
Meanwhile, Beff gets here late this afternoon, which will be her first time here in three weeks. Indeed, she
has yet to see my handiwork -- the dismantling of the picket fence. We plan to celebrate by roaming freely.
I also got some nice chicken satay skewers, and healthy vegetable stuff, at Whole Foods for this weekend.
Alas, she's here for just a little while and goes back tomorrow. With the cats. For reasons that will be
splained soonly enough.
So yesterday was another big and rainy day -- thunderstorms were predicted, but didn't happen -- and I
celebrated that by driving into Cambridge. Because the scores I had ordered at Cambridge Music Center
(fka Yesterday Service) were in -- Music for Strings Percussion and Celesta, the left hand concerto of
Ravel, and the Symphony in Three Movements of Stravinsky -- and I had to pick them up. On the way back
was that trip to Whole Foods, and dagnabbit, they were out of Real Pickles. I *did* get an interesting
raspberry beer concoction, made by Dogfish, for the staff at the MacDowell Colony, though. It may be the
only $18 bottle of beer they ever get from me, or anyone else. And of course I got piccante olives, yummy
yum yum.
This weekend is the Bernstein Festival of the Arts at Brandeis, with lots of performances going on
everywhere. Last night was one of them, and I went -- an electronic music half-marathon, featuring music
by Brandeis, Harvard, and Dartmouth composers, with 14 pieces programmed. I made it through the first
11, and had to leave, and I must say that the Brandeis composers kinda looked good. Hillary had a piece,
too, which I liked -- I had fun from my vantage point where I could see that she was triggering MAX
patches by going up chromatically on a tiny two-octave keyboard. It was like a real-l-l-y slow chromatic
scale etude. It was also really easy to know when the piece ended, therefore.
(speaking of which -- I spent some time analyzing the "Fireworks" prelude of Debussy for class -- #12 from
Livre 2 -- and decided to use it kind of as a premise for my 80th etude, should I ever get around to writing
it)
And tomorrow is Peter Bayne's cop car piece that everyone's been talking about (except Jim Ricci, who is

old and cynical enough to say, "somebody did that in the 70s, didn't they?" Yeah, and Satie already wrote a
piece using only major triads) and I have to introduce it. Two bass-baritones, singing through the PA of
police cars and using the other sound-making accoutrements. My introduction has been written for me, and
it's pretty basic. I had it memorized before I even read it. And then tomorrow night, the Dinosaur Annex
concert is an extremely ambitious recital by Don Berman, including Eric Chasalow's piano and tape piece,
and the two etudes he *commissioned* from me -- yes, I got paid for them, though I wasn't expecting to. In
fact, it looks like due to clerical error, I got paid twice. I didn't cash the second check.
As to the coming week, it's the day we've all been waiting for. Wednesday is THE LAST DAY OF
CLASSES WOO HOO ICE MAKER WOO HOO and Thursday is a music department meeting, and then
I'm mostly done except for some grading. On Friday, I am going to the MacDowell Colony, where I will be
until June 5. This is a last minute thing, and I have to come back several times, specifically: May 5 for Eric
Chasalow's multimedia opera at Brandeis, May 9 for Justin Rust's diss defense and a teaching award
ceremony for Rick Beaudoin, May 14 for a dentist appointment (#14, but it's just a routine cleaning) and
May 15 for the department degree meeting. Then I'm home free. Which is good, because I am charged with
writing a towering masterpiece of staggering genius, for wind ensemble. With opening suggested by Chip
Farnham (you read that here first -- D in the horns). So because Beff has to be in Maine a lot for two more
weeks until her academic obligations are finished, she's taking the cats with her for that time, and then back
here. Woo hoo for the cats, I am sure. And of course once the grass starts growing in earnest, there will be
hiatuses to come back and mow.
Meanwhile, other things related to the weather warming up include taking out the lawnmower and gassing
it up -- I actually could mow some, but just the long grass that used to be next to the fence that's now
nonexistent. And Mindy Wagner sent me a bag with eight baby asparagus sprouts for me to plant -- when
she was here for her colloquium I had casually mentioned that the neighbor has nice asparagus that he
doesn't even know about and that the previous owner used to give fresh asparagus to us, and that I might
have to sneak in to do that this spring, etc. -- and I followed the instructions on the bag. I dug a six-inch
deep trench (I got me a little shovel from Ace Hardware for that), planted them, and covered them with
three inches of dirt. Then about a week later I covered them up again with the other three inches.
I also got grass seed, and fertilizer, and more topsoil, since one of tomorrow's task for me 'n' Beff is to plant
grass seed where the fallen tree is, and also in the mini-trench that its carcass left behind. To that end, I also
got a hoe and a rake -- not a leaf rake, but, as I described it over the phone to Beff, the kind of rake that is
used for sight gags in cartoons and comedy movies. She knew immediately of what I spoke. Now I am glad
to have spent so much obsessive time last fall uprooting all the vines and stuff in that area. Currently I am
spending obsessive time weeding the area of those funny chutes that are all over this area that produce
quasi-grapes. And meanwhile, the rhubarb is growing incredibly fast. It passed through the nascent stage
and through the scrotal stage to near-picking stage in just a few weeks.
And so since I have to get my act together a little more quickly than I had anticipated -- that is, going away
this Friday -- I did stuff that required organizational skills. Including sending programs to CF Peters and
BMI, making and binding a full size Disparate Measures score for a fall performance, Xeroxing all the
piano concerto sketches and making a nice printout of it to send to the Koussevitzky Foundation, and doing
all that stuff at the post office, etc. And I searched through the Staples flyer for a bigger monitor that I can
attach to my Power Book for the sake of doing a wind ensemble piece, and I got a 19-incher flat screen that
was on special. It arrived, I attached it, and it works, and ... it also has an iPod dock, AND built-in speakers,
AND a USB hub integrated. Wow. The penalty is that it comes with no fewer than two power supplies.
Last weekend was a different kind of thing, as my mini-residency from March that had been cancelled by a
snowstorm actually happened. On Friday I drove from here to Gorham Maine, where the U of Southern
Maine is, and Beff drove from Bangor. I met Dan Sonenberg on the campus, and all three of us went to the
brew pub nearby for lunch. Beff and I then walked around a bit, and hooked up with Dan's wife Alex (we
know both of them from overlapping VCCA residencies), went to an art opening on campus, and then out
for barbecue. I was there ostensibly to go to the concert of U Maine composers, which is done quite
interestingly there -- it's an ensemble that's a class that people in the class write for and play in. So
stylistically it was all over the map, from heavy metal (a song with a form of

ABCDEFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF) to quasi-experimental. That night we stayed at Dan and Alex's excellent

apartment (big!), had pancakes, and I did two composition lessons, did a public talk about ME, and did two
more composition lessons. Dan's got a good program going, and some good composers. So I left in time to
get back for a grad composer concert at Brandeis -- lots of really good music, though not without a few
performance issues.
And somehow within all that space, I managed to spend nearly twenty-four minutes of my life monkeying
with my piano concerto Finale files and assigning QuickTime MIDI instruments, just to see what it would
sound like. The answer: funny. You, dear reader, can laugh along with Davy by clicking on the "funny
MIDI" links up there to the left -- though I have found that the flute patch on the Mac comes out as a string
patch in Windows. And other funny things like when one string part has a pizzicato, all of them get played
pizzicato. Not that there's anything wrong with that, except that in the third movement, a lot of pizzicato is
really sposta be bowed. And thrown bows I had no idea what to do about. So I went to the bathroom.
And what is on the docket IMMEDIATELY? Why, it's looking at and grading the sonata expositions and
recaps that came in on Wednesday. The best part of my job is when that is ... over. As to when the next
update is ... dunno, probably the 14th, since I have all that time later in the day after my dentist
appointment.
Today's pictures include a few from the cell phone. First is a nice early morning picture of the back yard
with the shadows of two of the big maple trees. Then we have some of the rhubarb passing through the
scrotal stage, the trench for the asparagus, two daffodils by the back porch steps, a cute as a button picture
of Sunny in Beff's storage area next to the bed, the level of the Assabet by the bridge, higher than I have
seen, the cats enjoying the outdoors, and a funny cube gravestone Beff and I encountered in Gorham. As to
the backyard -- since these pictures were taken, it rained, and it has gotten suddenly MUCH greener. So
there.

MAY 24. Breakfast today was nothing! Except a brief swig of orange juice right out of the container.
Dinner last night was rare and marinated beef, sweet potatoes and salad. Lunch today was Trader Joes
tempura shrimp. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS: 32.4 and 90.1. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the Finale of the band piece I am writing
(you, too, can listen, kimosabe). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST MONTH are very few -- two Flip Video
camcorders at $123 each from amazon, and that's about it. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: First veery of the
year heard today; tons and tons of wood thrushes at the MacDowell Colony. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: When I was in eighth grade we got a new phys ed instructor, Mr. Pequignot, who
instigated a soccer team. I declined to go out for soccer, but Mr. P thought I was athletic and he turned the
screws on me to get me to try out. And I was made the starting left winger. Our first game was played in the
back of the Barlow Street School against St. Albans town, and I scored about five seconds into the game
with a wild kick -- I was subsequently decked by someone on the other team, but I got up in time to see the
ball sailing in the net. So if I could score at that rate -- a goal every five seconds -- imagine my average. It
turns out we won that game 1-0. I was also the leading goal scorer, with four in 10 games. When the class
did a yearbook, soccer was covered, and all the facts were apparently made up. My copy has the actual goal
tallies pencilled in. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Cramper. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF
being cooped up in a studio, biking on a bike without a derailleur, my good old TMJ. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC various olives and pickle things that I munch on in my studio at MacDowell.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK My groove. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2.45.
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST
VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 14. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:When I visit from MacDowell, they
park themselves in the kitchen as if I am supposed to give them cat treats. I usually do.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 14 (lots of
Fromm commission letters before I started saying no). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE: I can re-enact the entire Jesus Christ Superstar album. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Permanent Republican minority. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,453. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.85, $2.87, $2.90, $2.95. I

see $3.02 is the next price I pay when I gas up tomorrow. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a poorly executed Sudoku game, a
poem written without any consonants, the first time ever I saw your face, an aluminum softball bat that's
just not right.
Now almost a month since the last update. Did you miss me? Hey, I've been out of town, doing the
academic thing, and trying really hard to be silly as much as possible. Okay, I admit I don't have to try too
hard to be silly. Watch this: GAZOOMBA!
Classes ended on the day they were supposed to end (if they didn't there would be hell toupee), plenty of
lessons and classes got taught by me, and a mere two days later I was off to the MacDowell Colony. I know
the best route there, getting me there in 70 minutes instead of the 90 that it used to take, and on May 4 I
was in my studio and working by about 1 in the afternoon. I had told them to expect me at 11:37 (in the
morning was a lesson with Rick Beaudoin, and his name will come up again, before I could leave), but it
didn't occur to them that maybe then they could make me a nice MacDowell lunch. So I had delivery pizza
with the staff, which is good, 'cause I know a bunch of them -- this being my ninth time there and all that.
Getting an early start was kind of interesting, since I was still on the hook for Brandeis stuff -- indeed, I
arrived at MacDowell on Friday, and on Saturday night was at Brandeis, with Beff, for the performance of
Eric Chasalow's "Puzzle Master" (Beff said that must have been the name of his band in high school). The
piece was alternately entertaining and full of note-spinning, but in the end it was a success. Really big slow
videos that involved goopy stuff, and it ended with a shrouded (presumably dead) body rolling down a
staircase (idea taken from Duchamp? "Death rolling down a staircase"...). I went back to MacDowell on
that Sunday, but then had to come back on Wednesday for Justin Rust's dissertation defense (it succeeded)
and a lameass (as it turned out) reception to recognize superior graduate teaching fellows -- I went as Rick
Beaudoin's, um, what did I go as? Mentor? Example? Because I wrote the letter nominating him for the
award? In any case, I hightailed it outta there after he got his certificate, and got back to MacDowell in time
for delivery pizza.
Then the following Tuesday I had to lead the end-of-year meeting wherein I certify that all the majors and
minors finished their requirements and the department votes on honors. But I came in late on Monday for a
dentist appointment (there is a "root cavity" next to the tooth that was pulled that no one would have known
about if the tooth hadn't been pulled, and I get it "fixed" on July 10), and in the free time in the afternoon
the Ka-Ching Twins came over for fun and to do work (Beff was orchestrating her opera using an external
monitor, woo hoo), followed by dinner at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. And it was fun, and cool to see
Carolyn again. And again. And again. So the Tuesday meeting happened, and swimmingly it went.
Followed by a meeting about graduate students. Which went on. And on. And on. Then I was more or less
back at MacDowell for good. Until today. TODAY I chose a while ago because excellent weather was
forecast (can you say 86 degrees and not humid, boys and girls?) and coming back to mow the lawn, etc.,
was part of my bargain to do TWO colony residencies this summer. I cheerfully report that I left
MacDowell at 7:30 this morning, got groceries and stuff, got bug netting for colonists who expressed
interest in it, mowed half of the lawns, took a bike ride with Beff around Boon Lake, made two doublesided and bound volumes of Davytudes for Bridge Records (yes, the Amy & Davy Show Part 3 takes off a
year from now -- or that's when we project the recordings will happen), and whoa! Here I am at the old
Windows computer typing stuff about myself as if anybody actually cared. Well, I care. I really do. (I didn't
say either of those last two sentences with a straight face)
So my studio at MacDowell is the MacDowell Studio. This is not the Identity Operation, nor is it
commutative. It's just that this one, of the 32 in toto, is called MacDowell. Easy to remember. And now
there are four studios I've been in there TWICE (Omicron, New Jersey, Watson, MacDowell) leaving only
Kirby as the one-time event. I was in this studio in the summer of 2001 when I was writing Locking Horns,
Luceole, and Purple (Rick Beaudoin was there in 1999 is well, and that is when he grew his beard). And
now I'm in it while writing what I will refer to henceforth as The Barlow Piece. It's the piece commissioned
by the Barlow Foundation with a consortium of five bands promising to premiere it. And they are going to
have their work cut out for them. Just to get the beezness aspect out of the way -- even with all the trips
away from the colony, I have managed so far to crank out a little less than thirteen minutes of band music,

as follows: the third movement called "Fanfares" and maybe two-thirds to three-fourths of the finale (fourth
movement), tentatively called "Toucan Play". YOU, dear reader, may look at the PDF scores of both of
these movements and listen to the MIDI files -- see the links on the left down there: the PDFs are gray and
the MIDIs are green. BEGINNING the piece was like passing a gallstone (which I've never done, but I've
read all the crime novels about it), especially as I was using Chip Farnham's beginning ("horns on concert
D"). I did finish that movement, though, and thankfully started on a scherzo for the Finale -- in which I
extracted at least one very long buttstik. You will have to listen to the MIDI to figure out which one. And
by the way, I have found out that the MIDI SUCKS on a Windows machine -- I think one of the flutes
comes out as a police whistle, etc.
The other composers I've overlapped with at MacD are Mark Kilstofte, Caroline Mallonee, Lior Navok,
and Paul Moravec -- none of them first-timers. No composers have given presentations (but lots of others
shonuff have), but while he was there, Mark was the MC for a nightly enactment of a Mary Worth comic
strip as dinner was coming to an end. Judy and Starlee played Vera and Mary Worth, and when Mark left,
Andrew Solomon took over the MC duties. He left today, alas. You may click on the three MW links to the
left to see some of the Mary Worths from a week ago or more.
Meanwhile -- in preparation for medal day and the celebration of the MacDowell Centennial (yes -MacDowell began operation in 1907 and they celebrate their centennial in 2007, as opposed to Yaddo,
which began operating in something like 1926 and celebrated their centennial in 2000), the kitchen in the
main building has been totally knocked out and is being rebuilt from scratch. While that happens, there is
no real breakfast -- they call it "continental" and they bring it in from elsewhere -- there are no lunch
baskets, just paper bags, and dinner is served at Hillcrest, which is the former Director's residence. So
things are scattered about, and nobody will be going home with cute pictures of their lunch baskets (I have
plenty from previous stays -- how could I not?). And we eat off of paper plates, which is weird when we get
something that needs to be cut with a knife.
The usual motley assortment is in evidence, from writers and visual artists and interdisciplinary artists, and
as usual it is extremely fun to get to know the people and then see or hear their work. I never would have
guessed, say, Sabrina was sewing thread onto slides, or that Rodrigo made up a famous poet and wrote in
his voice, that Kay was a novelist, and so on. Which is why I like going to the presentations. Even though I
rarely say something. Meantime, as the departure date for colonists approaches, lots more wine and beer is
suddenly available for all than is usual. Truly. And a monloguist (a new classification for me) named Mike
arrived a little while ago, and he does evening-long monologues. A week ago he extemporized one about
the MacDowell experience, and he had us rolling in the aisles. Indeed, he is posting videos of himself on
YouTube -- which you can find if you search for "Secrets of the MacDowell Colony".
And in my first brief time back home from MacDowell I was idly looking for news on the internet and
somehow got a page that raved about a brand new product called "Flip Video" -- a deck of cards-sized
camcorder that record full-quality video onto flash memory, and connects to your computer via USB -- a
little thing that flips out of the camcorder, hence the name. I got the one-hour version for not much money,
and started taking MacDowell movies, including our Mary Worth performances (the ones referenced on the
left were all taken with it), and when I came back my second time, I yielded it to Beff. Who is using it to
make movies for a video project about bicycle riding. To wit, last week we went to the Assabet trail and she
videoed me riding my bike toward her and away from her, in various states of being. Today she recorded
bike wheels turning, and I recorded the view of the road from the bicycle on our Boon Lake ride. I liked it
so much -- I got another one. So we have matching Flip videos. Uh oh.
Meantime -- Amy D's website is finally online (see yellow link on the left), and we decided to go ahead
with making the third etude CD. Which will be recorded in about a year, and Bridge has signed on to it.
Lotsa work for Amy, I'matella you. She uses a bunch of etude videos from my webspace in her Gallery -and I decided to take the YouTube plunge and post a bunch of those videos up there -- as well as a nightly
upload of that night's Mary Worth performance. So look at "YouTube etudes" and "YouTube Mary Worths"
to the left for the You Tube links therein. Hey, some of them have been RATED. I wish I knew what that
meant. Someone invited me to be a friend on YouTube, which I declined, but I realized why I shouldn't
have done that. On the page with all my videos, I am informed of the following:

Call me Martler
So I am actually relieved to spend a day or two outside of that studio. Which is certainly intimate, and I'm
getting a LOT of work done. But I like my hammock, too --- and besides I gotta mow some more. So I'm
cutting this off now and going back outside in order to be outside. Can't get much more commutative than
that.
Today's (this month's) pictures include my studio at MacDowell, the scrimmed-off dining area at Colony
Hall, my work area with lunch bag (not basket!), a fire in my fireplace, the kitchen rebuilding as seen from
a Davy's eye view, me at dinner, Tim and John at dinner, and Mark and David Packer at dinner. The end.

JUNE 5. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Dinner last night
was manicotti and salad. Lunch today was chunky soup, some Italian sausage and leeks thing.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 49.6 and 92.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the Finale of the band piece I am writing (again). LARGE
EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS are none. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: Plenty of veerys and
wood thrushes, and a very insistent mockingbird here on Great Road. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: In French II (freshman year of highs school) we spent some time in the spring
translating a kid's story in French (duh) called Papa Renard (we translated that as Daddy Fox). In one of the
quizzes, a bit of text we had yet to translate was given, and I recall the phrase "heureuse come deux singes
avec un puce" or something to that effect. I had no idea what singe and puce were, so I guessed "happy as
two mice with a piece of cheese". That was marked X "(good guess, though)". The translation -- oh, those
French -- happy as two monkeys with a flea. What? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Triggleknacher.
THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF no refrigerator available, dampness, spraying wasps, Monadnock
Springs bottled water. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS anything with hot sauce on it.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK There actually is only one way to skin a cat. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT
LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 14. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Beff
and I were boxed in by cats last night. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: When I
did graveyard shift security at Jordan Marsh, I used to toss light bulbs down the eight-story stairwell.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Two-hour teaching week.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,493. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.02 at
Cumberland Farms. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE the bit of cloth right next to the hole in your sock, the summer cold that just
won't go away, the lemon seed clogging the garbage disposal, twelve of those oh what are those called
again?.
My time at the MacDowell Colony is done, but my service to the Centennial event is just beginning. But all
in good time. I am back in Maynard for one full day, catching up and all that, after four and a half very
productive weeks at the MacDowell Colony. Total output: 22 minutes of band music, three whole
movements. And I still must write another movement, since I don't have any opening music yet. What I DO
have is a melancholy slow second movement with 2-note ostinatos (among many other things), a pretty
heavy "fanfares" (third) movement, and a kind of kooky and fun finale ("Toucan" -- Beff nixed the title
"Toucan Play" for that movement). Plans, which may change at the last minute, are for an opening
movement that is kind of a march. Or a kind of march. This is what I will work on at Yaddo, when I get
there. Which is, in relation to the posting of this page, tomorrow.
The usual end-of-residency stuff happened at MacDowell -- the getting to know new arrivals but not too
well 'cause what's the point, dealing with the exit forms (note to self: Yaddo doesn't ask you to fill out an
exit form), feeling okay to slack off (which I did because i finished my third movement (actually the second
movement of the piece, but the third one I finished because, you see, I wrote the third movement first not
knowing it wasn't the opening and the fourth movement second, knowing it was going to be a finale, and
this slow movement once I knew about the third and fourth movements I knew would come second and just

after the movement I have not yet written) and there wasn't time to start another movement and get invested
in it), and taking the opportunity to leave the campus for whole days with the spouse of me. And so we did.
I mean, I did. So last Friday while Beff was in Vermont, I came in ostensibly to bring in the garbage and
recycling bins -- so it wouldn't look like no one was home -- and I ended up mowing almost all of the
lawns. I also took a short bike ride for the sake of exercise, and used the air conditioning in the computer
room, so there smarty pants. Then I left the compound on Saturday night, spent Sunday with Beff doing
things like planting grass seed and taking walks (it got too cold for riding bicycles), drove back Monday
morning, spent the day packing up and lounging about (it was raining a LOT), said my farewells Monday
night -- after recording the last Mary Worth performance -- and hey, here I am.
In the meantime, Beff had jury duty yesterday, postponed from last August, and alas, she got selected for a
jury, which is in trial today. And what a trial it is (double meaning, for those playing along at home). Beff
had scheduled stuff in Maine based on being left unselected, so that's all been moved around. That
afternoon rehearsal today -- not happening.
And so I pack for Yaddo. Pretty much by leaving everything in the car for a day, doing laundry, printing off
more manuscript paper, taking care of the cats, doing more weeding and the like, mailing packages,
depositing a rebate check, using up coupons that Beff gave me, etc. I can report that LAST Monday Beff's
trumpet colleague Jack was here for the evening, and I came down to make Whole Foods kebab stuff, and
that on Sunday morning we went to Whole Foods for more such stuff, and Sunday's dinner was
tremendous. I know it to be true.
Meantime, all 14 Mary Worth performances from MacDowell I recorded are up on YouTube (see that link
below on the left), and I uploaded some more etude videos. I still have no friends, but the view count is
going up (it could hardly go down), and apparently there is one subscriber to my, um, "channel". My Flip
Video 60 is now pristine, ready to record whatever crazy goings-on happen at Yaddo.
And toward the end of my stay I was asked to do a presentation of my music by some of the Fellows, and I
declined. Statistics: 9 MacDowell residencies, now 8 MacDowell presentations. Paul Moravec was at
dinner when this was asked, and he said we would perform right now, and he launched into "Itsy Bitsy
Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini". But perhaps, dear reader, this is too much information.
And on that note, I feel like I've said all I need to say for this week. Agh! Well, if there are any new
MacDowell pictures, they are in the camera that I don't feel like taking out of the car at this moment. So let
me detail what's new that we can look at and listen to.
Waves, Fanfares and Toucan on the left are the 2nd, 3rd and 4th movements of the piece I'm writing: gray
links are scores, green links are MIDIs, and the yellow link is an mp3 of the MIDI ('cause on Windows it
sounds way different, dude). "Mockingbird" in blue is a movie I took on the Flip Video in our backyard of a
mockingbird on Sunday, moving from place to place as if it didn't want to be recorded. All the other links
are as they were for the last update.
And the SAME PICTURES as last time remain two of the four non-me Residents pictured are still in
residence. Those trees in the outdoor shot eventually got lots of leaves on them, but I don't know if I have a
picture of that. If you'd like to see my lameass movie taken in the morning during a thunderstorm, do let me
know and I will post it.

JUNE 19 SUPPLEMENT
JUNE 19 I type from Maynard, where I am for the day. This morning's breakfast really was the rice link
sausages and orange juice, and lunch was a frozen Di Giorno pizza, no longer frozen. Dinner, dunno yet.
Beff has had her mouth surgery and the stitches removed and is in NYC as I type this, with a trip to
Houston to follow forthwith. Tonight Seunghee arrives (hence me being in town to pick her up), as she is
catsitting while Beff is gone. I also intend to mow some lawn, do some outdoor wi-fi (because I CAN!),

and do some hammock time.

I, meanwhile, have done a little less than two weeks at Yaddo, and I FINISHED the band piece, and I
FINISHED etudes book 8. Shortly to begin a set of songs for Judy Bettina and Collage, and I am poring
through Phillis Levin poetry. I am also swatting a whole BUTTLOAD of flies in my studio at Yaddo, which
is the Stone Tower -- same one I had last year. On the day after my BIRTHDAY (which was last
Wednesday), the flies started to amass in legion, and much weaponry (especially fly paper) is used against
them. But mostly, it's gotten to to point that I work 5 minutes, look at my big big windows for flies, get up,
and swat for a minute or two, get back to work, etc. Frankly, it's at times disgusting and I considered
leaving at a few points, but I don't think I will. As is usual for Yaddo, there is an excellent bunch of people,
and the food is quite excellent this summer --- which seems quite in contrast to the takeout meals we were
getting at MacDowell. Though to be fair, I actually like delivery pizza.
So the band piece was finished on the morning of my birthday, and in the afternoon there was a small staff
party, since Candace, Residence Director, shares the birthday with me. The next day I had Buffalo wings at
the mall to treat myself. And on Saturday, Beff came for a visit (she had had her operation on Tuesday), we
walked around Saratoga, and I thought we would go to the nice restaurant where I had Buffalo wings last
year. It is no longer in operation, and is soon to be replaced by a new place called Cantina. Beff suggested
that I call my band piece "Cantina", and it took until last night for me to give in. Laura Schwendinger at
Yaddo remarked, "is there any Mexican in your band piece?" and I guess that salsa-like groove qualifies me
to use that title -- if that is the only qualification I need. So Cantina, a one-word title, has four one-word
movement titles: March, Waves, Fanfares, and Toucan. Toucan fits in Cantina,doesn't it?
Beff wanted to get me something useful for my birthday, so we did an Airport Extreme hub, Beff rewired it,
on my birthday while her mouth was swollen, and voila, we have wi-fi. I can do e-mail as far away as the
picnic table in the backyard, which is a little silly in the morning because it's so bright I can't see the screen
anyway. In the afternoon it will be killa. And anyway, over the weekend we then went to Beff's sister's
house in Cohoes, walked around the nearly-dead mall, saw Knocked Up (liked it), ate at the brewery
restaurant, and back I went to Yaddo. So there, so there, so there.
Future --- got to go to Peterborough a few times to meet with Karissa, my mentee in Anna Schuleit's
MacDowell Centennial project called Landlines, and will do lunch with friends there -- to be named later.
And I'm done with the colony hop on July 8. It will be time to do ... to do ... do ... the parts.
While at Beff's sister's place, we did some e-mail in the back yard, and started fantasizing about getting a
gazebo in the back yard, screened in, where work could happen during the summer. Upon lookup, it turns
out such things are not prohibitively expensive. So that's a future fantasy, perhaps for next summer. For
now, we are waiting to get that new shed -- it arrives July 10.
Upon return, I finished etudes book 8 with #80, an arpeggio etude called FIREWORKS. Shamelessly based
on Debussy's piano prelude, which I prepared a lecture for but did not get to give. See links up there.
And on June 30, Alexander Lane does Carson Cooman's organ transcription of my piano piece Sara at
Westminster Choir College. I have never heard this version. But it should be good, because I wrote it, and
what it is, too.
And that's all I got for now. Time to brush my teeth, and what it is, too.

JULY 9. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, grapefruit, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a vegetable
and cheese panino from Trader Joe's. Dinner was salmon burgers and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
THIS LAST TWO MONTHS 42.6 and 95.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
My own "Winged Contraption". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO MONTHS include renewal
membership to the Grammys, $180 for two years, and some gourmet food stuff from Santa Barbara Olives
online, $106 including shipping. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: All of them, especially as some of us

started paying attention, and a lot, at Yaddo -- so that includes goldfinches, white throated sparrows, and
ESPECIALLY the Phoebes that perched above my window at Yaddo and screamed. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first time at Yaddo, which was May-June 1991, there was a double
rainbow one night and a moose that poked its nose into one Sunday morning breakfast -- in the latter case,
Donna Masini went after it for whatever reason. I celebrated my 33rd birthday there with Rolling Rock
(which has the number 33 on the bottle), and the composers with whom I was resident included Robert
Carl, Alvin Singleton, and Tania Leon. My studio was Woodland, which I have not had since then -- this
was at a time before Lyme Disease and deer ticks were all the rage. In 2007 at Yaddo, some of the
principals were back -- me, Rochelle Feinstein, Marcelle Clement and Gardner McFall among them. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Oogenblick. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF full-body tick
searches, avoiding the grass on the driveways, carrying the PowerBook to check e-mail, speakers with
negligible bass response, colony hopping. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Buffalo wing sauce
used for dipping any kind of chips, that Mexican olives and capers thing, pouch pickles. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK Tick burrowed into leg. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS
TO THIS SITE: This page, compositions, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 14. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny is cute when he
balls up at night on the floor when you pet him. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE: My first multiple collection of piano pieces was "Melodies for Snowflake", of which there were 21.
I can still play 2 of them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Yaddo
happens at home. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,561. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $2.97 at Stewart's in Saratoga Springs. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A
BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the shingle on the corner that was the first one to rot,
the screw that holds together the pieces of a pair of scissors, the pockets in your shorts, a blonde wig that
you wear on your armpit for reasons not disclosed.
Summer began yesterday.
Which is to say -- beginning at about 8 am yesterday (at which time I returned from Yaddo, meaning I had
to have left by 5:12, which I did) I spent my first unstructured time since May 4 -- the date I arrived at the
MacDowell Colony. So let me do a full recap of the colony hop I just did, and then we can move to the
interesting part of our epistle.
Readers of this space know that I had the MacDowell studio at MacDowell, and that I wrote three
movements of my wind ensemble piece there. I also videotaped the nightly Mary Worth dramatizations and
put them on YouTube, and also put up a bunch of my own etude movies there. For proof, see the red links
to the left. I also came back and forth several times for mowing, etc., and I also did a little bit of my part in
Anna Schuleit's big "Landlines" Centennial project for MacDowell -- which included being in on some
auditions for the "performing" part, wherein local schoolchildren are mentored by MacDowell artists for a
performance on August 11 at the Centennial celebration at the Colony. I am mentoring 13-year-old Karissa
Vincent, who is writing a piano piece about being at, leaving, and returning to MacDowell. To that end, the
two of us biked the colony, she was given works by past Fellows to study, and off she went. I'll return to
this subject a little later.
Then I went to Yaddo, starting June 6 and returning yesterday. I finished the wind ensemble piece on my
birthday, and on Saturday of that week Beff came to the area (her sister Ann lives nearby), we looked for a
place to eat, and the place I wanted to go had closed and was about to reopen as "Cantina". Which is what I
called my piece. Later I finished my 80th etude, loosely based on Debussy's Fireworks prelude, and called
it Fireworks. During that time there was a major infestation of houseflies in the Stone Tower studio where I
was working, and I didn't realize until my penultimate day that a) there was storage space under the
window seating, b) a squirrel got into it and c) died. Thus probably having something to do with the sudden
nonscarcity of flies and my much swatting of them.
Meantime, people left Yaddo and new colonists arrived. The more new colonists that arrived, the more
people I already knew from previous residencies. Indeed, my last dinner there I sat at a table wholly made
up of people I could have sat with last summer. Now given that I had finished two big pieces there -- the

wind ensemble piece and Etudes, Book 8 -- the next project, which is songs for Judy Bettina and Collage
on poems of Phillis Levin came out quite slowly in comparison. Indeed, it will be maybe five songs, six at
most, and I have narrowed the choices of poetry down only to ten -- not many of which would work as fast
music. Plus, I'm writing for Pierrot ensemble, no percussion, and that ensemble has routinely kicked my
butt. So things went rather slowly, and given that everyone was someone I already knew, the sort of
insularity of the Colony Hop scene became quite evident. I love going to these things, and I love seeing
what other people are doing -- but I started thinking that I'd try to wean myself from the colony circuit,
especially given how much nice stuff we have at home, how few new people it seems there are to meet on
these hops, and how much I like Buffalo wing sauce. We shall see in two years when next I have a
sabbatical if I get back on the Colony Train, or go Cold Turkey. But that is too much detail.
There was a pool party one night at Yaddo to celebrate the summer solstice (three days late due to weather),
and after it was done there had to be a walk through some damp grass to get back to our rooms. Susan S
was scared of ticks, so I gave her a piggyback ride to the driveway of West House -- and woke up the next
morning with a tick burrowed into my left leg. Sigh. So I started being even more vigilant about ticks,
including the full body search for them every night before bed, and getting the tweezers and alcohol rub
things for my studio. I even broke open a little blood blister to see if there was a tick -- and that scar
became worse than the tick scar. And imagine the waiting to see if a little bullseye rash would pop up
around the tick bite. So those afternoon walks for exercise -- trickled to a trickle.
Eventually, Chris F., a poet, talked me into doing a presentation of my music -- there were very few
presentations, and I was one of them -- because last year I had forced him to do a second reading of his own
poetry after liking the first one so much. So I up and made him read, too, on the same event. And that was
the last presentation while I was there, exactly a week ago today. Mine was themed "you know what I did
last summer", and it was the two bird-themed pieces I wrote in the Stone Tower LAST year at Yaddo.
Meantime, I made a few escapes for Buffalo wings at the Wilton Mall, and got some laceless sneakers at
Payless because they were on special, etc. And a few drives into town with other colonists for supplies
because cars were at a premium. Not much else happened, though. Now about two weeks ago I got to leave
Yaddo for the day to go to MacDowell to meet with Karissa at her house in Greenfield, and I stopped at the
colony for a little while. The rebuilding of the kitchen was going beyond deadline, as we all knew it would,
and breakfast was now being served in Colony Hall on the ping pong table -- which horrified, a little, the
two Yaddonians destined soon to be MacDowellites. Including the one for whom I took that tick. After the
meeting with Karissa -- her piece is very, very good -- I stayed in Maynard overnight, while Beff was in
Maine for a rehearsal of some sort. Then went back to Yaddo to slog by. And by the way, I DID finish two
songs there, so something of consequence did happen.
Indeed -- last summer's output was 31 minutes. This summer's is 39 minutes so far. Not too slouchy.
So I managed to extricate myself from Yaddo like a thief in the night, thankfully not encountering any pleas
to make it to one last breakfast, and got here at 8 yesterday morning. After a cursory bit of packing, I set up
the PowerBook downstairs on the wi-fi, turned file sharing on, and transferred everying I need to the G5
upstairs. After a little bit of hammock time and a little more unpacking, we went and got some supplies at
Shaws, and I spent a long time in the afternoon printing the score and parts to the wind ensemble piece -42 parts, and I did them all myself at Yaddo, and separating the parts that were originally two on a line was
a BEAR. So there was that, too.....
And today was the first of three consecutive days with morning trips -- this morning I had my physical, I
weigh 188, my blood pressure varied, but was nice and low the second time (122/78 or something), and my
favorite part happened -- where the doctor sticks his hand up your butt and announces "your prostate is
fine". So at the end, the doctor stuck his hand up my butt and announced "your prostate is fine". I reported
that TMJ persists even in these summer months (apparently I clench when I write), but no solution was
offered, at least not this time. I then stopped at Brandeis to make a folder of stuff I want transferred from
my current office computer to the new one I'm getting this summer. And here I am. Beff had gone out to KMart to get new cushions for the Adirondack chairs, but they had already put away the patio stuff for the
season. So she got some online. Then she got us our lunch at Trader Joe's, and what it is, too.

Tomorrow is a dentist appointment to take care of a root cavity on tooth 15 -- it is right next to the wisdom
tooth that came out in February, and its extraction made finding this cavity possible. Wednesday is the
Corolla appointment, and the air conditioning has to be fixed, and I'd like the car to chirp a little less in
humid weather such as we have now.
And what's new at home? 7 of the 8 asparagus plants that Mindy Wagner sent me last April are doing fine,
and I have weeded around them. The old metal shed got taken down by the Door and Window people, and
the ground around it was leveled with gravel for a new one from Reed's Ferry sheds, which is set to arrive
tomorrow. Beff got an Airport Extreme hub, and we can network with wi-fi all around the house, and in the
backyard as far as the Adirondack chairs. The floor of the porch was replaced with composite material that
won't stain. The attic windows are new. And we both started drooling about getting a screened-in gazebo
for the backyard where one of us could set up to do our work, including wi-fi, during the warmer months.
We intend to ask the shed people about one when they are here tomorrow. Friday Beff goes to NYC for an
ACA board meeting. Two weeks from tomorrow I have breakfast beer with Lt. Col. Michael. And on July
30 we go to Vermont for the month of August, or for most of it. But lemme splain.
Beff and siblings have now co-inherited the summer place in Burlington, Vermont on Lake Champlain, and
her sister has been doing some repairs and a-fixins (including getting a storage shed and a barbecue). Beff
and I were there for the 3rd and 4th of July, and I found the place really quite cozy, especially when resting
on the new chaise lounges in the "porch" area. There are now five beds to sleep a strangely large number of
people, and the beach is so close, and there's a very long bike path that goes across a causeway, etc. Plus,
Beff set up wi-fi there. So all is well. It is where perhaps I will write some more songs, and definitely enter
them into the computer, etc. For I am the Highlander. I made a Flip Video of a walkthrough of the summer
place, so you can see that in the light blue link on the left. Also see a little walkthrough of my studio at
Yaddo. For it is what I wish.
As of June 24, Mary Worth was still being dramatized after dinner at MacDowell. Not that there's anything
wrong with that.
And now back to the regular exercise schedule -- walks downtown and bike rides, when possible. We did
the Assabet bike path yesterday. And that's the truth.
I took very few pictures at Yaddo -- indeed, one of the pix below was taken by Grace on Tanya's camera -Tanya being a performance artist who liked to play piano four hands, and I was the only available partner.
The pictures we have below are two views of my back porch at MacDowell, three pictures of and around
the Stone Tower studio at Yaddo, Tanya and me playing some Liebeslieder waltzes, Sunny looking very
cute on the hammock, and the parts to my wind ensemble piece before I sent them to Peters today (on the
left, woodwinds; on the right, brass, percussion, harp and string bass).

JULY 17. Breakfast today was absolutely nothing. Lunch was Buffalo wings and salad at Neighborhood
Pizzeria. Dinner last night was pepperoni pizza from Gambino's on State Stret in Bangor. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 56.6 and 88.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS Jane Child's "Don't Wanna Fall In Love". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK include new
shed ca. $2700, new Subara Impreza Outback Sport, $18695 plus various options plus tax, bike rack for
said car, $390, router and cable for eventual DSL in Bangor, $90, Corolla routine maintenance $501.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During my year at Stanford when I lived in a cabin in the
Redwoods, Beff was visiting one night, and watching TV after I'd fallen asleep -- in this cabin to sleep two,
we had to set up in the living room on the floor, and ditto the TV. At one point I was probably dreaming
while Beff was still watching TV, and I muttered something. Beff said, "What?" and I turned over and said,
louder, "Roll the cabin down the HILL." THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Flurdstock. THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF Driving in long tunnels of trees, car dealerships. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS Buffalo wing sauce used for dipping any kind of chips, pouch pickles. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK keyless entry. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6.1. REVISIONS TO THIS

SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE
SEPTEMBER: 15. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny still is able to open the back screen door in
an emergency situation when he is afraid of something. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE: I once got a "Penny the Poodle" for Christmas. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Nobody gets in line for handouts every time a car is sold. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 10,496. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.94 at a Mobil station in Bangor.
OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE the head of a tick after the body has been pulled out of a cat, turgidness, empathy for short people, the
crying game.
In one way it was a lazy eight days; in others it was chock full. Chock full, I say, full of chocks. Or is it
"chalk full"?
So of my three eventful days that started the reporting period, all of them happened. First on Monday was
the annual physical on which I already reported. On Tuesday morning I had a dentist appointment
ostensibly to fix a root cavity in tooth number 15 (the one way back on the top left next to the wisdom
tooth, now pulled). I got put into the room with the laser for the special "impossible" procedure, which was
deemed actually impossible by the dentist: "there's no way to keep the blood away from the area where we
have to clean and fill." So instead I was given a special new brush for that tooth only -- basically a plastic
handle with a teeny brush extended at a 90-degree angle, which reaches under the gum to take food out of
the little gap that opened up when the wisdom tooth was pulled. Fascinating. I also got some special rinsing
solution for that as well. Having used it a few times, I've found it to be essential to good dental hygiene; as
after a good brush and floss, I can sometimes still pull more morsels out with the little brush. Mmmm.
Tuesday afternoon, Reeds Ferry Sheds was scheduled to deliver a shed we'd ordered -- we got rid of the
skanky, rusty old one, and Door&Window leveled the area with gravel. And they showed up on time, and
built the 10x8 shed on site, to our specifications, etc. It's got cedar walls and is guaranteed for 25 years.
Meanwhile, we had gotten the idea that a gazebo would be a cool place for lounging and doing wi-fi, and
we liked the work these guys did, so we up and ordered a 10x10 octagonal gazebo from them,
manufactured by the Amish, which arrives September 7. This two living wages tenured professors thing is
SO cool, 'cause you can get these things just because it's a good idea.
And on Tuesday night we had our only possible foursome with Lee and Kate (Hyla and Desjardins) in the
North End at a lovely restaurant right around the corner from their house. Lee chose excellent wine, I had
the swordfish (woo hoo!), and we got there and back by commuter rail -- after getting a little lost on the
way in, since all the landmarks (construction of the big dig, and the elevated green line) are no longer there.
On the way out of the restaurant we mentioned we had never been able to find Amaro, and they took us
right across the street to a place that sold it. Score. They also said they would take our Camry from us when
we were getting rid of it, at the quoted price: Free. It is now ready for them to claim it.
So then on Wednesday morning I had to take the Corolla in to the dealer for its routine 75,000 mile
maintenance -- it also needed air conditioning service. And it got fixed, after I took their shuttle home, etc.
After lunch, Beff and I started feeling antsy about Beff's new car -- and lemme splain. The Camry turns ten
this month, and it has 223,000 miles on it. Still runs like a charm and is still very quiet when it idles, and
has marvelous pickup -- but with winter coming, etc., it's time for Beff's next commuting car. She's been
talking about getting a Subaru for at least a year -- all-wheel drive, etc. -- and when she had been in Maine,
she test drove a Subaru Impreza wagon and a Toyota Matrix (I think) -- we decided I should experience all
that, and about an hour before my car was due from the dealer, we showed up and test-drove the Matrix -nice handling, a little loud, not too bad. Then my car was a little delayed, so we drove to the Subaru
dealership in Acton to test drive the Impreza Sport Wagon, which we also liked. Hey, it's got more cargo
space AND an mp3 player plug-in. Woo. The dealership kept dropping the price of the 2007 model in order
to get us to buy right then and there, and the more we made gestures to leave, the more the price dropped.
Finally we got a written quote, talked about it -- the Subaru dealership in Bangor is reputed NOT to do
deals, because EVERYBODY wants a Subaru there -- and decided to bite the bullet, buy the car in Mass.
and register it in Maine. We strategized that we'd get a dealer plate and drive it to Maine to register it, etc.

Meanwhile, I picked the Corolla up, it was nicely fixed. And the next day Beff went by herself to the
dealer, chose a model she liked, and I came down to sign the papers. They don't give out dealer plates in
Mass., and they wouldn't release the car until we had various paperwork from Maine, so it sat there a little
while. Meantime, we added a bike rack on top (it's pretty sexy actually), and took the paperwork we
needed. Beff was to start teaching at the U Maine summer high school music camp Sunday anyway, and I
had not much in the way.
So on Friday Beff drove to NYC for an ACA Board meeting, and I took the Boon Lake Bike ride, after
getting my blood work done at my thingy dingy (health place). I also got stuff at Trader Joes and BJ's, since
they are on the way back, and that included lots of D batteries and toilet paper. Beff got back with what she
thought was an insect bite on a toe which was colored and swollen.
So Saturday I was appointed to see Harold Meltzer for lunch at MacDowell, and that I did do -- we ate at
Harlow's, I got the Smoked Turkey Thang, Harold paid, and it was a-lovely. Also I saw Sebastian Currier
twice on the grounds, which was cool, since I'd been seeing him regularly at Yaddo. And Beff drove to
Maine because she had early morning meetings on Sunday for the camp. As to Sunday, John Aylward came
over for some canoeing, and that we did -- a mile down the Assabet and back, and twice the canoe fell off
the car -- a little bit -- once because the rope snapped, and once a fastener just slipped off -- we won't be
canoeing again until we get another canoe carrying kit, obviously. The second one was right on the bottom
of our driveway, and I was holding onto the canoe, as I do, to keep it from slipping -- this jammed a little
on my left thumb and wrist, which now have bruises. Boo hoo. John and I then went to the Blue Coyote for
beer and snacks, I took him to the train station, and then I drove to the place in Maine, arriving in the dark,
and after the first two hours of raininess. Beff called to say she was going to bed early because of the insect
bite and feeling a fever.
So then for Monday morning, we hopped right into Maine bureaucracy. First we had to get the insurance
binder from the Allstate agent, then go to town hall to pay the excise tax, and then line up at the Motor
Vehicle registry across town to get the plates and pay the sales tax, plus whatever dumb bureaucratic stuff
they had for us. Total time for all three: 45 minutes. But Beff was starting to feel more nauseous and dizzy
and hot, so she called her HMO -- half a mile from the motor vehicle registry -- and miraculously, they had
a time for her in a mere half hour. So I took her there, walked around in the gorgeous newly dry weather for
an hour, came back, and she had prescriptions to buy and blood tests to take. The walk to the blood lab was
quite long, down a perfectly straight modern hallway, and then we waited in the greatly overcrowded
waiting room while nearly no one got called on, and most everyone was really old. I was sure it was going
to be an infinite wait, or at least something like the waiting room scene at the end of Beetle Juice, where
Beetle Juice gets the number 4,005,999 or something as the "Now Serving" sign clicks "4". So Beff sent me
grocery shopping. And lo and behold, when I returned, she was ready.
So Beff didn't get an insect bite, her fever was 103, and they thought she had both a foot infection and a
virus. Eeew. So for the rest of Monday instead of returning Maynardwards, I helped her as I could, making
sure the foot was elevated, and that she was comfortable at least, and making sure she took her antibiotics
and Tylenol exactly on schedule. Meanwhile, doing any internet or e-mail was EXTREMELY slow on her
dial-up, and we negotiated that we would get wi-fi from Verizon for the house -- which I ordered, in a
typically LONG event that included page upon page of caveats from Verizon. It is to be activated Friday,
and so I drove to Staples and got a router and a networking cable -- and that will be the THIRD time Beff
has set up wi-fi this summer.
After some time on the couch with the covers on, I took Beff's temperature, and it came out as 105.4.
Thinking that was a software error, I tried again -- still 105.4. So we called her doctor, who told me to make
sure she drinks four quarts of water a day (I said, "you mean a gallon?" He said yes) and that she take all
covers off, even if she gets chills. So I kept plying her with water in various guises (but always the wet
version). I also put a hot wrap on her toe and a cold compress on her forehead. And then waited and waited
on dial-up. Around midnight, Beff moved to the couch from the bed and finished the night there. And at
5:30 in the morning, exactly the time for the green pill, I took her temperatur, and it was 96.1. Another go
showed 97.1 So the fever broke! And I felt no guilt therefore at coming back to our neglected cats and

newspapers and mail piled up, starting at 6:45.

And then after driving home, feeding the cats, bringing in and sorting the mail, and unpacking, I put a
Peters score of CANTINA in a mailing bag and mailed it to the Barlow Foundation -- so I can get the other
half of the commission, already spent. And drove to the post office and mailed it. And then went to the
Subaru dealership (remember them?) with the requisite paperwork and Black Bear Maine plates, paid for
the bike rack, made sure they took the E-Z Pass off the Camry for the Subaru, and was ready to walk back
later to get the car. Turns out they said they'd drive it to me. So I took the Nature Viewing Area bike ride (3
hills), ate at Village Pizzeria and did a bunch of lawn mowing before they brought the car over. And it's
keyless entry -- maybe I'll get used to it, but if you just open the door with a key, it beeps and beeps at you.
You have to use the little wireless thingy to unlock stuff. And soon it will be with BEFF, and will transport
our bikes for us to Vermont. So there, and there, and there. And there.
Tomorrow I see Karissa again for the Anna Schuleit Landlines project, and before that it will be lunch with
super-poet and Rome Prize Fellow Sarah Manguso. Whom I know from Yaddo, last year. I have not
decided yet whether to drive the Camry or the Subaru there. Choices, choices! Hey, we are (very)
temporarily a 3-car family. And one of the few without at least one of them on blocks in the yard. THEN
next Tuesday it's the annual morning beerfest with Lt. Col. Colburn up on Lake Carmi. And in between all
of those things and before we leave for Vermont, I hope to grind out at least one more Phillis Levin song.
And what it is, too.
Today's pictures begin with a cushion for the Adirondack chairs, very cheap, that Beff ordered online (it's a
little small), followed by the new Subaru in the driveway. Next is a toy cedar waxwing with sound that I
got at Yaddo. Next follow the new shed as it is constructed, followed by the complete version. Then see the
Subaru's butt as the shed looks on. And finally, the current state of the little place I planted the asparagus
that Mindy Wagner sent me. Very hard to get a good picture, but there are seven very little ones isolated
there. Really.

JULY 27. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was chunky
chicken soup. Lunch was a clam roll at the Quarterdeck Restaurant and the scallops wrapped in bacon
appetizer. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 57.9 and 89.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the upward-moving ostinato from the Phillis Levin song I am currently
writing. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK include woodchuck removal in Bangor, ca. $300, future
woodchuck prevention in Bangor, ca. $900, the usual new car expenses with Registry of Motor Vehicles,
etc. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During a little shopping trip in Burlington, when I was
about 10, that for some reason included my great-aunt -- Aunt Dot, my grandmother's sister -- I discovered
(probably in Grand Way) the Hot Wheels "splitting image" model for sale, which I had been coveting for
some time. Here was when I learned how to "play" Aunt Dot. The little car was $3 and I had probably
about a buck, and I spoke directly to my mother within earshot of Aunt Dot, "oh, if I only had a friend who
could give me the difference, I could bring this car home and play with it." Right on cue, Aunt Dot said,
"I'll be your friend". I got the car. Hee hee hee. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Druit. THINGS I
HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Alberto Gonzales, car dealerships. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS Pickles, olives, lemonade, Edy's lemon and lime bars. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the
book value of the old Camry. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS
SITE: This page, compositions, lexicon, reviews, home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK:
0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 15. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny spends much
time on a fencepost trolling for mice and chipmunks. Cammy is very needy in the morning, always seeking
out my lap when I have one. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I got glasses in the second
grade, two years after having German measles. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE
IN CHARGE: Self-refilling glasses of beer. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,510. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.83 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $2.97 at a place in Sheldon,
Vermont. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE a hotel purchased on "Park Place" on the Monopoly board, a spilled bit of mayonnaise

that looks like a cross between the letter "G" and a pumpkin, a slice of tomato at the bottom of my salad, a
falling rock that just missed my elbow.
Really.
After I deleted all of last week's text, the last thing left was the paragraph right above. I decided to keep it.
Soon you, too, will grow to love it and think of it as your very own.
Meanwhile, down here on planet earth, time has elapsed, and it continues to do so (if I could learn to
control that, I'd make millions). Last week Beff's fever was going down and I exited Bangor, in the Camry,
and with the paperwork et al for the new Subaru (you'll see yet more pictures from last week's photo shoot
below). And on Wednesday I drove to MacDowell in the Camry, saw Sarah Manguso for lunch (we went to
Nonie's), hung out briefly in Colony Hall, where, as always, Sebastian Currier walked through (does he
ever actually do work at these colonies?), saw John Sieswerda hanging about, and then Sarah make a
"Simpsons Avitar" for me -- there's a game on the Simpsons movie webpage for doing that. The Sebastian
avitar was dead-on. The others that had been done, not so much. Then Sarah ordered online a volume of
poetry by a friend of hers, Jennifer Knox, that she promised would change my life (it arrived, and it hasn't
yet, but I suspect it will). The first poem in the book ends with this stanza:
Thank you. Now I'd like to give you all an opportunity
to behold the wonder of my incredible nip
ples.
How could this book not change my life?
So then Sarah came along to Karissa's house, where I was to mentor some more for Anna's MacDowell
Centennial project, and she used the lake while Karissa got some serious mentoring. Mid-mentor, I got a
call from Beff, whose fever had gone back up to 103, and I committed to coming back to Bangor another
day and, oh what the heck, bringing her the Subaru. So Karissa played her tune for Sarah, showed us some
of the stuff that kids do to pass the time in boring bus rides, I took Sarah back to MacDowell where of
course I saw Sebastian, and home came I. That night dinner was something I don't remember.
So then up to Bangor went I early Thursday morning, and I got used to the Subaru -- which skyrocketed
from 35 miles on the odometer to 284 in one swell foop. Light rain gave way to sun during my trip, and I
know you don't care about that. Beff's fever actually had gotten much better, so there wasn't a lot for me to
do for her. So while I was there, a student arrived for a clarinet lesson -- I, at the same time, was installing
the DSL and router, which had arrived. So I connected the modem and router and computer, and the router's
setup couldn't find the internet. D'oh, I was supposed to configure the modem first -- so after going through
the DSL For Dummies software that Verizon makes you use, we had successful internet connection. Then I
moved on to the (linksys) router -- whose setup software continued not to be able to find the internet. So,
while the clarinet lesson raged on, I called Linksys customer assistance, got a nice woman in India (who
asked me what time it was in Bangor) who baby-stepped me through getting the router to work -- which
involved configuring it through IP addresses in Explorer rather than using its own software. She even gave
me a password for the network and after 25 minutes or so, wi-fi was achieved. After this, I went to Beff's
office to get her clarinet, computer, and a bunch of other stuff she wanted, and she too could use the wi-fi.
And use wi-fi we did. Later in the day Chip Farnham came by to talk band stuff -- he's going to DC for the
premiere of Cantina (March 2, people, Marine Barracks). And then I was charged with picking up take-out
food at the Bangor Japanese restaurant (it took 45 minutes).
Friday Beff was super, and she dismissed me. So I came in the morning to Maynard in the Corolla, and then
started my string of progressively more difficult bike rides -- and I now have done the longest and most
difficult ones recently, so I am back where I belong. Um, in terms of readiness for more and longer bike
rides. As it has gotten summer-like here, I have been taking early morning rides, which is good, since I get
to work by about 9.
And oh yes -- Saturday morning some of the tiles above the bathtub up and loosened enough to fall out. I

was able to wedge them back, after much effort and mess, but after my morning bike ride I popped by
Maynard Door and Window to see if Steve & Janine could spare a few minutes in their Saturday rounds to
look at it -- and like magic, at noon there they were. So now the tiles are covered with a garbage bag (so
they don't get moister) and they'll take care of that, AND take the falling faux railing structure off the top of
the front porch AND sand and paint the bulkhead AND build a little ramp for the shed .... AND AND
AND ... replace the big kitchen window on August 7 when we are gone.
So meanwhile, let's see ... you know we promised the old 1998 Camry to Lee and Kate, for free, and they
slipped under the radar to do all the stuff they need to own and drive a car in Massachusetts -- including
two phone calls with Kate. We figured a 10-year old Camry with 223,000 miles was worth $100 or $200,
but Lee had to pay Mass. sales tax on the "book value" -- ludicrously put at $3500. Meanwhile, Kate
wanted someone to look it over to make sure it would be safe for the 1000-mile move to Chicago.
Yesterday was scheduled as the transfer date -- they came out on the 12:09 commuter rail (arriving at
12:17), we went in two cars (theirs and mine) to Acton Toyota, which also did the state inspection -- during
which we went in one car (mine) to the Quarterdeck. Upon returning, we found that the car got a clean bill
of health ("great shape", they said) and needed a switch to pass inspection -- of course, another 125 bucks
or so. So then Kate took pictures of us in front of the car, and they drove off -- what a weird thing when the
first thing you have to do in a new car is negotiate the Concord Rotary on Route 2. But apparently they did
-- their names weren't in the obituaries this morning. Or if they were, they were misspelled.
The big event of this week was the yearly beer breakfast with Colonel Michael. Yes, he has dropped the
"Lieutenant" from his rank, and he was promoted to full Colonel (especially good for popcorn) in a
ceremony that included the upper brass of the Marine Band and the President of the United States of
America. In a little office they like to call "Oval". I drove a bit through St. Albans when I first arrived and
took some pictures (see below) and hoped to get Chatter Stones at the Science et al store --- and finally
Drinkwaters Jewelers is gone! Well, there's another jeweler there, but Drinkwaters is gone, gone the way of
Doolins -- a frufru store that sold sewing patterns and Wedgewood and had the vacuum tube thing to
transfer little parcels from department to department. And you knew I would say this -- it sucked. So I
stopped in Sheldon for gas, and got some freshly picked (as in, that morning) blueberries at the Franklin
General Store and brought them to the Colburn camp. And on the docket for this party was Magic Hat beer
-- excellent, Vermont-made and everything. Verne -- his dad, my high school band and other music teacher
-- had some of his near-beer, and we had the usual make-yer-own sammiches. Now Mike's sister claims that
her daughter (as in Mike's niece) "learned about me" in school, and there was an awkward moment wherein
I was introduced to her as she was on her way into the Lake -- but I suspect maybe they listened to the
Rakoczky March. And Winnie was there as usual (she is, after all, the dedicatee of the 2nd movement of
Cantina) and a little less vibraty then usual -- as was another dog named Cinnamon. And both trolled for
handouts.
So after I became ready to drive, I did, and stopped at Warner's Snack Bar on my way out for some of its
sterling cuisine. It's the only place I ever ask for fried onions. Then, of course, I drove back in the most
eventless way possible.
So on Wednesday morning I discovered that Galen had put a little feature on the YouTube etudes on
Sequenza21, and yesterday -- the day after Wednesday -- a piece by Amy D showed up in New Music Box
about those movies, with an introduction that the two of us were suddenly everywhere, stars of YouTube.
Which gave me a little Scooby Doo moment. ??? Obviously it's a slow news week.
And so today Beff gets back from Maine. During her time there, which included fevers up and down from
96 to 105, she took the Subaru in for its official state of Maine inspection -- a very quick and inexpensive
affair. Chip had recommended a big garage near where Beff had to go to pick up a lawnmower part. And on
that morning, I got a call from her: "did you get the windshield fluid thing to work?" I said I thought I had,
and she said the guys doing the inspection said it didn't work and couldn't pass inspection because of it. She
gave them permission to try to fix it, and I told her to take it to the dealer where it would be, like you know,
free. But they had started already. Meanwhile, I trolled over to the dealer where we bought it, told them
about the problem, asked if there would be more like it, communicated with Beff about taking it to the
dealer, etc. And so meanwhile back at the garage, they couldn't figure out how to fix it, put it back together,

charged her $40 for looking, and Beff took the car to the dealer. Who said, "what do you mean it doesn't
work? You press the button next to the icon of a windshield wiper with fluid coming out..." So Beff took
the car back to the garage, complained vociferously ("your guys failed my car because they didn't know to
PRESS A BUTTON to make the windshield fluid work?? And this is what they do for a living?", and the
manager even banged his head on the desk (I would have liked to see that part). Further, as Beff was
dressing down one of the two guys who were such screwups, in came another with his face all black, who
said, "at least you didn't have to work on a truck that caught fire". Classic Laurel and Hardy, lemme tella
you. So Beff got her inspection sticker and forgot to ask for her $40 back. Which she went back and got. So
the little "in and out" place that Chip recommended -- ended up costing her 3-1/2 hours. One of these days
I'll post the name of that garage so that it can forever live in ignomy.
Also creating unexpected excitement in Bangor was Beff's discovery of large holes next to the garage.
Suspecting it was animal-related, Beff called a company that takes care of such things, they set traps and
caught a very large woodchuck, and Beff paid them more to fill in the holes and screen the area around the
garage to make it woodchuck-proof. Exact amounts paid can be seen above. Meantime, we purchased
Shake-Away, a powder to go around the new shed here in Maynard to keep small animals from
congregating under it. Active ingredient: fox urine. Harmful, and pretty gross, if swallowed.
I expect Beff around 6ish, a little after Martha Horst gets here -- Martha was just at MacDowell, and
tonight she's coming by for dinner. Yes, my second consecutive day for seafood at the Quarterdeck. Lovin'
it. Tomorrow Beff and I may try putting the bikes on the Subaru's bike rack and maybe doing the rail trail in
Ayer or the Minuteman trail in Concord. And on Sunday is my last mentoring, for which I am slated to
arrive quite early. The afternoon will be spent a-packin'. For you see, this Monday the 30th we go to
Vermont for a month, takin' the cats with us, and while we are gone, that big kitchen window is set to be
replaced, and, I suspect, the other little tasks we had for MDAW.
So live with this News for a month. I WILL be back during the day of August 11 (our 18th wedding
anniversary) to mow, pick up mail, and be in the MacDowell thing for which I have been mentoring all this
time, but it's doubtful I will post here. Perhaps a supplement, but not much else. Meanwhile, some people
have said they might come to visit us while we are there (our coordinates: 44 degrees 30' 45.79" N, 73
degrees 16' 12.43" W -- check it out on Google Earth), which we will believe when we see.
And that third song of the Phillis Levin set progresses. I stole from myself, which is okay -- because now I
have more evidence that in etudes I sometimes think up things that end up in other pieces. In this case, it's
from the echo etude, as the poem is about overlapping senses of time, and talks about echoes. So there.
This week's pictures include two more views of the Subaru (can you see the bike rack?), two views of
Sunny trolling for vermin, two views (south and north) of the Main Street of St. Albans, the church in
which I was baptized, and the fountain in the park in the center of town. Bye.

AUGUST 31. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was
barbecue at Brandeis and later some salad at home. Lunch was some bread and hot sauce.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS 47.5 and 95.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Peter Gabriel's "Big" LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS
include a canoe with oars and life preservers, delivery included, ca. $675 POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: During my seventh grade year, we had moved into a new elementary school, serving
grades 1-8 -- instead of 3 local schools doing grades 1-4, a school doing grades 5-6 and one doing grades 78; one parent's night thing was an athletics/gymnastics thing and I got selected to show trampoline jumps,
etc. -- there was the big trampoline and the little one, and I was on the little one, and I was supposed to
show the simple maneuvers. But my ego got in the way when the PE instructor marveled into the PA about
the flips etc. that the guy on the big trampoline was doing. Not to be showed up this way, I also did flips
and the more complicated things. Because I couldn't let everyone think that the rudiments was all I could
do. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Bimple. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF no real piano
available, no yard, buttmunching bicycle seat. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Pickles in hot

sauce, tropical sugar free popsicles, snacky chicken, grilled marinated salmon breasts. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK the many different ways of pretty sunsets. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10:
2. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Home, Performances, Lexicon, added page to Our House.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 15. CUTE
CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They were very cute in Vermont on the parallel chaise lounges, and they spent
much time in the screen windows -- sometimes jumping up 5 feet to sit in them. RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I have two scars on my right leg, and a few burn marks (or "sear" marks, if
you like that kind of terminology) on my hands from the barbecue that will become places that don't
sunburn. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: When I twitch my
nose, that "Bewitched" marimba thing actually happens. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,690.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.86 at at a Mobil station in Burlington, $2.64 at
Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a cake shaped like Betty Boop, a mother for James Brown that
you gotta have, one or two of the bytes on the latest Prince CD, a stick of cocoa butter we found in the
grass that was really gross and stuff.
Five weeks since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. Not only is freedom no longer within my
grasp, or even within my purview (which is when you see a very happy cat), but school has started, I am
doing an overload, and I have another job besides. And all of this will be splained in good time (possibly
compound time, but I can't promise anything).
The compressed version; Beff and I have been to our August retreat (co-owned by Beff and her siblings) in
Burlington, Vermont, on Lake Champlain, each of us had a substantial trip in the middle of it -- Beff to
Bangor for a rehearsal, me to Maynard and the MacDowell Colony for Landlines, the Anna Schuleit special
to mark the centennial of MacDowell -- and Beff has been to Bangor since our return (two days ago) and is
on her way back to Maynard as I type, and I did a full day at what some people who use informality
informally like to call The 'Deis. I also spent 58 minutes this morning in the New England Conservatory
neighborhood, but ahead of myself am I getting.
So we plan on being at this place in Vermont just about every August. That timing coincides with Beff's
yearly summer gig at the Vermont Youth Orchestra camp nearby, which gives me full days of ... well, as it
turned out, of nothing. But nothing was what I wanted and needed. Like wasabi. The place is summer only
(actually April to October -- the water is turned off in the colder months), and we just do August, has five
beds, a bunch of rooms, basic cable and wi-fi, and lots and lots of screens. And therefore lots of air, and lots
of light. On most of our days, we took a ride on one of four bicycles stored at the place, and the one I got
was called (by me) The Buttmuncher -- Beff's sister Ann's high school bike. Very close to the place is a bike
path built on an old railway bed (okay, let's trot out the real terminology: a rail trail) from a railway built in
1900 and closed in 1963. It goes either south to downtown Burlington or north to the Lake Champlain
islands, the latter by way of a long causeway perhaps 15 feet wide and 4 miles long. 'Ceptin' there's a "cut"
in the causeway where a turnstile bridge used to be, so you can't make it all the way to the islands, except
by a teensy weensy ferry -- which travels 100 feet, and only operates on weekends in August. Below you
can see the cut, or my name isn't Raffi Turmostabile. Actually, I meant AND my name isn't Raffi
Turmostabile.
So for those many weeks the day consisted of going out to get the paper and the food for the day, using the
internet, relaxing, eating, occasionally swimming, doing a bike ride when possible, or doing a walk when
possible, having dinner, and spending the dark hours on the massively parallel chaise lounges -- and later,
many hours watching "Ugly Betty" episodes (later, 30 Rock) streaming on Beff's computer. I wrote only 15
bars of music my whole time there -- as if I were still a graduate student or something -- and the diversions
and variations from our routines happened only on our trips and when we had visitors. Now a little bit
about all of those.
The Ka-Ching Twins -- Carolyn and Mike -- came up for a three-day festa while Beff was teaching, so
there was a bit of biking for all of us (we went to the causeway, and then Carolyn went on alone to the cut)
as well as trips both to downtown Burlington (Brew Pub, place to buy socks, etc.) and St. Albans (Warners

Snack Bar), and a bit of water recreation (known locally as "swimming"). Carolyn found out what we
already knew -- that the water is shallow and you can go out a long way before it even comes up to your
belly button (or to someone else's, not seen in this photo) -- since you see New York from the beach, the
"I'm going to walk to New York" joke got told a lot. And Carolyn bought goggles for swimming, and we
made sure she got the cheapest ones in the state of Vermont (Rite-Aid, seasonal items, nearby).
Gusty Thomas drove many hours (maybe 5) to have dinner with us and see a sunset before she had to get
back to guests at her and Bernard's place in Massachusetts the next morning, and we took her to Tilley's
Cafe in Burlington --notable because of the free ("free") valet parking, and because of the fish flown in
daily from Hawaii. Alas, the owner visited our table twice to chat -- and try to get us to come back again -but we continued to eat nonetheless. And I had sesame-encrusted salmon.
And later Ken and Hillary made the big drive for a three-day thing, and we biked a lot -- in every direction
(well, two of them) on the rail trail, making it to the cut and to the waterfront, and also to Warner's Snack
Bar in St.Albans, as well as to Lunig's restaurant in downtown Burlington. Things did not suck. And we
went wading and swimming as well, despite the cloudy weather on that date. And Hillary, who had an old
boy's bike, kept complaining about her butt -- while Ken instructed me not to look at his. Ken was just back
from Rome, so he brought Italian poetry fridge magnets, as well as a CD (actually a CD-RW -- what a dirty
trick -- car CD player spit it out) of some recent big pieces. And stuff. So see the light blue links to the right
for our big biking day, at the Winooski River bridge.
After all our guests were gone, Beff had the kuh-rayzee idea that "Canoe Importers" in South Burlington
might be having end-of-season sales, and we went there to look. Heck, durned if she weren't right. We got a
great price on a new Old Town canoe and oars and life preservers. And we took a few very short trips in the
cove by the camp, since on most days the lake water tended to be a bit active for canoe rides -- but then on
our next-to-last day, things got really calm, and we took a medium-length ride followed by a long ride -almost all the way to the mouth of the Winooski River, where a bridge has been built for the rail trail.
Doing a mile and a quarter on a lake is way different from doing it, say, on the Assabet -- since on the
Assabet there's always the next bend that you're shooting for, maybe 5 minutes of rowing. Whereas on the
lake, the next landmark in front of you is an hour and a half of rowing away .... And we think that at no
point in our big ride did the water get more than five feet deep.
As to our trips out -- well, Beff had a six hour drive to Bangor for a rehearsal and to take care of mowing
lawn, bills, etc. And I had my trip on our anniversary to do my part in Landlines at the MacDowell Colony.
Which was fun. Especially since there were all kinds of dress rehearsals put into place that I refused to go
to and I showed up just about 5 hours before the show (after spending the morning mowing the lawns in
Maynard), for the final rehearsal. Karissa did a great job, and our pre-piece patter was cut for length (all of
the ten acts began with a ringing phone sound and a mentee running on stage to "answer" one of the giant
phone props hanging over the back of the stage). Between the rehearsal and the show I hung out a little in
Colony Hall, saw the current Fellows there that I know already -- especially Susan and Sebastian, but also
Tarik and Matt and so on. And then I got to hang a very little with Alvin Singleton and Tania Leon at the
actual show, and I had a brief conversation with Nicky Dawidoff (a Pulitzer finalist -- in biography, which
actually means something), all of whom were there for Landlines. After the whole show, it was dark, and
there was a big anniversary cake at the amphitheater, and I didn't get the memo to bring a flashlight. Also,
there were a hundred phones set up all over the Colony with former Fellows calling in and people mulling
around having the opportunity to talk to these people -- and anyway, I stumbled in the dark to the
amphitheater, saw the cake(s), and skedaddled. And then drove the next day back to Vermont.
AND MEANWHILE, while we were gone, the kitchen window got replaced, the bulkhead got painted, a
ramp for the shed started to get built, the faux railings on the front porch roof got taken off, the loose tiles
in the bathroom got fixed, and we all just had a wonderful time. So things look a little different right now
and we are the lucky beneficiaries.
And most of our dinners were grilled, by me, on a barbecue and were either snacky chicken or a marinated
salmon from the local Hannaford's. Toward the end of Beff's VYO gig, we invited most of the (adult) staff
of the camp over for a big, big party, and had tons of food waiting, and it was a very festive affair indeed;

most of the group hung out on the beach to see yet another ... sigh ... gorgeous sunset. And Beff got to relax
and hang, mostly, while I kept going outside to the grill with yet another bunch of food. When we ran out,
we started cooking Flatbread pizzas that we had gotten for ourselves for future lunches, but hey, they're
worth it.
I also uploaded a few more etude movies to YouTube and redesigned my "channel" -- which just means I
made it blue. I could tell that the etudes were starting to be considered important when no fewer than three
of them got spammed -- on YouTube there are a few Sexy Coed webpages that add comments to the, um,
more important movies, enjoining the reader to go there instead of here on YouTube, where there's not
much nudity.
Wednesday (two days ago) we both drove back to Maynard -- I left at 6:30 am (nella punta!) with the cats,
and Beff was a little later. The cats became reacclimated to Maynard in about a minute (they were already
trolling for treats), and the unpacking was no big deal -- nor was lawnmowing, for you see, August has
been such a dry month that much of the lawns got brown, and therefore not mow-worthy. Still, I had to
mow them in heat and humidity (and a black t-shirt), so there. And Beff had to do a lot of cleaning because
of the dust and stuff left behind by the construction and other work on the inside of the house. So we were
swamped -- enough so that we went to the Quarterdeck for dinner, and what it is, too. Beff got appetizers, I
got a clam roll and shared the appetizers. As if you cared.
Then WORK started again. I had to give a diagnostic test in Theory 1, we opened up a 2nd section that I'll
teach this semester as an overload, I had lunch with Big Mike (ka-ching!), there was a faculty meeting
meaning I had to blow off the Faculty Senate meeting, and then a music department barbecue right
afterwards wher we met the new people, and so forth and so on. When I got back I started doing the busy
work to produce lovely scores of my SEX SONGS for the January premiere in Philly -- generating PDFs
from the Finale files, concatenating the PDFs, and printing double-sided. Which turned out to be real fun
for the 11x17 score. This morning I was somehow obsessed with getting a TON of work done today, and
get this -- I got up at 4 am and bound the parts and scores, then put together some packages, did a largeviolin-line small-piano-staff score for Dan Stepner for "Pied-a-Terre", did some grading of tests, and next
thing I knew it was 8:00 and I went to the post office and filled up the Corolla at Cumberland Farms, and
went on to Great Cuts in Acton and got a haircut, and drove into Boston to establish myself, yet again, at
New England Conservatory.
Which is my alma mater. But whenever Lee Hyla leaves -- temporarily in 04-05 and forever starting this
year -- I seem to get in on some of the private teaching action. Not a ton of money, so it feels like a service
for (and practically a donation to) my alma mater.
Before I go further, I remind you that I got a haircut this morning.
So I got an on-street meter parking space near NEC on Gainsborough Street, and the idea was to go and get
my ID and possibly the key(s) to where I would be teaching this year. I am taking 3 students, Mondays 1-4.
Again, for not much money. So I got the ID by flashing my letter of hire and my old (04-05) ID, and went
in to the Faculty Mailbox room -- where I had a mailbox! I thought that was so efficient, having an actual
mailbox even before I filed a W-9, etc. And then I saw that there was a huge pile of stuff IN my mailbox -stuff going back to May, 2005. Whoa. When I was in HR doing the forms, I sorted through the mail and
encountered an Interdepartmental type envelope with my name handwritten -- it was my reimbursement for
parking from when I taught there before! $249! And the check was dated May 12, 2005. Whoa, so I had to
go through payroll and another office to start the process of exchanging that check for one that would
actually clear -- and then I finally got out of there. I ran into interim chair Mike Gandolfi on the stairs while
there, and we talked over what I'd do, when I'd come in, etc. And of course I have no key yet.
So besides Beff getting back later this evening, much doing here. Tomorrow we put chaise lounges
together. They will go into the gazebo that is supposed to arrive a week from today. And then we will be the
weirdest people on the block. Actually, we will continue to hold that distinction, only moreso.
And what else? Beff goes back to Bangor on Sunday on this long holiday weekend because her faculty

group has an early concert AND it includes a piece by me. And, later on in September I am off to NYC for
a perf of LOCKING HORNS -- my first opportunity to stay with Hayes and Susan in their new Bronxville
digs. Perhaps I'll hear a little bit of Marilyn playing the concerto, who knows? And I have a dentist
appointment, for a cleaning, on Tuesday. Everything else is just a light.
About this week's pics ---- Carolyn with her cheap goggles, me and Mike mugging at the Vermont Brewpub
(well, ME mugging), Ken and Beff and Hillary taking a break on the rail trail causeway, Ken looking at the
"cut" on the causeway, three various sunsets, the new canoe on the beach, Beff looking (from the canoe) at
the rail trail bridge over the Winooski River, the cats watching squirrels and chipmunks, a possible
advertising campaign for my new wind ensemble piece (at least it will attract the brass section), and a view
towards the Adirondacks from the waterfront in Burlington.
________________
SEPTEMBER 10. Breakfast today was nothing. Lunch was one cheeseburger from Burger King and a
bottled water. Dinner was a large salad including arugula from the Farmer's Market. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES THIS WEEK 46.9 and 94.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The
Hall of the Mountain King. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS include a gazebo delivered
and assembled $xxxx and an Airport Express, $104 with tax. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: During my summer at Tanglewood, I was in the Koussvitzky mansion guest quarters
along with Nami, Ross, and Martler. I had a boombox that became centrally located in the kitchen, and we
listened to a Brecker Brothers cassette over and over again -- until we were all able to sing along (sort of)
with every Michael Brecker solo on the Detente album. This was a great way to pass the time on the day we
drove up to Johnson, Vermont, to catch a concert of the Composers Conference. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: Doscroyo. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, driving to Brandeis (already). RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Queen olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the comforting coccooning
effect of the inside of a gazebo. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: the length of your lips.
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Our House, Reviews 4. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS
I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny Barf shows up in random places, and
at various ages, on a more or less random basis. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE: Being from Vermont, I have a very low social security number. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: People pay to watch me eat. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 10,709. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.62 at Cumberland Farms in
Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE a breadstick shaped like a cuneiform, a pile of thirds, the tweezers I just found that I
didn't know I lost, the little bit of lipstick that caked in the corner of your mouth.
So BOTH my jobs have now started up, and I am pleased, or sorry, to report three long days per week
ahead of me, at least for the next term. Theory I is so friggin big this year that I volunteered to teach a
second section an hour later (overload!), and I have a composition studio of six, as well as a nice senior
honors project to advise. And on Monday afternoon -- this was the first one of this sequence -- I drive to
NEC and teach three students left high and dry by Lee Hyla's departure for Chicago (and, not
inconsequentially, by NEC's failure to make a replacement hire last year). So ...
Beff was, of course, in Maine for most of the week teaching and doing rehearsals for her Cadenzato
concert, coming up in less than two weeks, and with a reception she had to go to, she was delayed in her
return Maynardwards until Saturday morning. And moi, I started referring to moi-meme in French, wrote
some actual music on Labor Day and the day which follows Labor Day, before I started my Brandeis
teaching in earnest. In dead earnest. Poor Earnest.
So on Wednesday it was up to me to do the first "listening" soft lecture in theory 1, both sections, which
was preceded and followed by composition lessons. After that, I packed up, scheduled my so-called studio,
and called it a day. On Thursday (the very next day!) I began with my review in Theory 1 -- which includes
my now-famous drinking straw oboe trick -- and got a minor declared, and met with one student, and then
failed to meet with the student that followed -- left music at home. So Rick B walked by just as that non-

lesson was starting and stopping, and I suggested we meet Davywards to talk about his summer fun and his
dissertation piece. So we both drove Maynardwards, parked Maynardwards, and decided to meet at the
Quarterdeck for a little beer. Since the Quarterdeck is next to Door & Window, we first popped in, gave
bones to the Door and Window Doggie, and then saw the Quarterdeck was closed. So off the the Sit 'n' Bull
Pub we went. Bored yet? But he gave a fascinating story of writing for European singers, meeting singers
and conductors, etc., and now here he is. Ready to start finishing his dissertation, and opening up a file for
professional letters. His letter was one of the ones I wrote this week. After our beer, he went home. And so
did I.
The BIG EVENT of the week had been scheduled about eight weeks ago -- Beff having decided that she
could sure use an enclosed outdoor work space for the summer months when she is at home, and we like
the shed that Reeds Ferry delivered, and she ordered us an Amish-made (or so they claim) gazebo for
delivery last Friday. Since Beff couldn't make it (rehearsals, meetings, receptions) it was up to me to direct
the gazebo guys on where to put it, etc. So at 7:10 in the morning I got a phone call from them saying
"we're in front of your house". I said "no you're not. You're in Sudbury". For you see, many times Dominos
pizza delivery has stopped to deliver to our house when we haven't ordered anything -- turns out there's a
47 Great Road just 2 miles down the road, and the GPS unit the gazebo guys have directed them to the one
in Sudbury. After we all had a jolly laugh over that, a truck with a huge trailer and the makings of TWO
gazebos backed into the driveway, and the guys unloaded it.
I guessed where I thought the gazebo should go -- Beff wanted it close enough to receive the wi-fi, so I
planted it square in the middle of where the Adirondack chairs (used to) go. While they were banging and
whirring (they had their own power source), I was writing some music. At one point a workman asked if I
had C clamps, and I resisted the urge to say I only had C sharp clamps, because that would have been a
very nerdly joke that would have elicited no reaction, especially if I also added that we only to make major
triads with our A clamps and E clamps. So the gazebo guys had to take that entire truck convoy to a
lumberyard for the clamps. And they still made it back and finished in about two and a quarter hours.
Where I chose to put the gazebo is not quite level, so they used cement blocks to level it. And I wheeled in
the chaise lounges that Beff and I had so painstakingly assembled the previous weekend -- and then brought
in the cushions the Beff got for them -- and brought in a little table we hadn't been using, and ... we had
gazebo. Gazebo Guys left, off to their next gig with the makings for only one gazebo.
Of course Friday was one of the hottest days of the year. Both Friday and Saturday reached the mid-90s, so
being somewhere, even a gazebo, away from air conditioning was not to be cherished. So when it got dark I
tested its worthiness, and slept on one of the chaise lounges until about 11, until I felt too sticky and tacky
to stay outside. During the day, the cats were first scared and then awed of it, and both of them climbed
under -- paying no mind to the fox urine mix I had sprinkled around it to keep skunks and woodchucks
away.
And on Saturday, Beff got in around 11:30 and immediately tested the gazebo. It was still hot. Big Mike
came in the afternoon to help us inaugurate it, and we got pizza from Domino's for the celebration, and
went in and out -- because it was HOT outside. By 5 there was a Severe Thunderstorm Warning (not
Watch) listed, and it missed us by probably about 5 miles to the north -- but Beff and I steadfastly lounged
in the gazebo to experience rain with it, and ... almost nothing. Though there was plenty of distant
lightning, and ONE lightning strike very close where there seemed to be no delay between the flash and the
sound. Impressive.
Sunday got much cooler and very cloudy, and we took a nice bike ride before the yearly monster.com road
race, after which we watched some of the runners going by our house. For the halibut, I took a blanket out
and took a brief nap in the gazebo while Beff did some reading for her Stravinsky seminar. Then there were
lovely chicken kebabs to make, and Beff left for Maine around 6 pm. I, meanwhile, went to my e-mail
program and literally every 15 minutes for about 2-1/2 hours a request for a Guggenheim reference came to
my mailbox. Of course I said yes to all of them, and it makes me believe that deadline is pretty soon. So I
was busy replying.
Ach, and after some mildly fitful sleep (two weird dreams, including one where I couldn't find a place to

take a shower, and everywhere I went things were different and different people were in charge...) I got up,
fed cats, went to work before the newspaper arrived, and did my first very full day of the term. To wit: 9-10
Rachel's Senior Honors project 10-11 Theory 1 Section 1 11-12 Theory 1 Section 2 12-12:30 drive into
Boston 12:40 get my teaching room key 12:45 get a cheeseburger 1-4 teach three NEC comp students 44:51 drive back home. Just out of Brandeis on South Street, I went over what looked like a small gray bag,
which turned out to be a big piece of cement probably dislodged from a sidewalk. It made an unexpectedly
loud CLUMP sound on the bottom of my car, and luckily nothing seems to have gone awry or askew.
Leaving the Prudential Center tunnel I had thought that the big smoke smell might be my car, but it turns
out it wasn't. So there.
And this is a short week at Brandeis because Rosh Hashanah closes it down for Thursday and Friday. So
my stranded Thursday student from last week becomes my end-of-day student on Wednesday. Keeping me
busy without break or meal from 9 to 4. And I must mention that this TMJ thing persists, and it takes a bit
of extra concentration to get through lessons with it.
Meanwhile, here I am back at home, and ready for a little more writing tomorrow, I would hope. Also on
Thursday, I would hope. For the weekend -- nothing planned, 'ceptin' a week from Friday Beff is driving to
NYC for an ACA Board meeting and I'm tagging along. Weekend after that is horn concerto at Juilliard,
and I'm staying with Hayes 'n' Susan, and the MacDowell Centennial Picnic in Central Park is happening
that weekend, woo hoo! Even Beff is, I believe, coming to the picnic. And -- this just remembered -- next
Wednesday night the 19th, John Aylward does a recital at Brandeis with two of my toods. And of course
Beff's group does my fl cl piano piece a week from Sunday, the day after Yom Kippur. Which we do NOT
have off from Brandeis this year.
More exciting things to report later, but that's it for now. I really have to go to the bathroom. I didn't take
many pictures this week EXCEPT ones to replace the outdated photos on the "Our House" page (the
gazebo is now there, for instance), so all I've got is a picture of the Assabet dam showing signs of the
August drought, and various views of the gazebo at various stages of completion. Bye.
----------------SEPTEMBER 25. Breakfast today was meatless sausages with nonfat cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
Dinner last night was two Boca meatless Italian sausages in hot dog buns and salad. Lunch was the
whopper with cheese meal at Burger King on Huntington Avenue near NEC. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.8 and 80.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS Chaka Khan's "Be-Bop Medley". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS other than
mortgage and car payments are none. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: For a while in maybe
fifth or sixth grade, I had a strange bird art project going on. I had all kinds of free colored cardboard that
my father brought home from the paper mill, and I started doing bird pictures, thusly: I drew the birds
freehand, from our bird books, then marked out areas on the drawing representing solid colors. I then cut
the shapes out, traced them onto cardboard of that color, cut the shapes out, and reassembled them with
glue into a bird art drawing thing. Who knows where they all are now? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
Stindle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, long teaching days. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS celery and lettuce in hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Inwood neighborhood of
New York. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: more than you know. REVISIONS TO THIS
SITE: This page, Performances, Lexicon. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy's purring becomes louder as he expects breakfast and he nuzzles the catnip
sock. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 8. FUN
DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I have exactly one pair of red socks. Which I
wore yesterday. To match my exactly one red t-shirt. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: When I raise my hand, stuff happens. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,754.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.62 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $2.82 on Route 2
in Maine, $3.05 on the Merritt Parkway. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a piece of chalk just before you break it in half, the jingle bell
that fell off the strap, a big can of whupass, the pile of slag left over from a sculpture.

The academic year continues on apace, and stuff happens. With the double overload I am teaching, personal
time has been kept to a minimum. Teaching Music 101 with 35 students means the grading time is about
double the in-class time -- moreso during the first weeks when the review stuff generates lots of homework.
Last week I spent 6 hours (2x3) teaching Mus 101 and 11 hours grading the homework. Good thing I can
do that in the gazebo, where at least there is a view of screens all around me. And the proportion of students
needing extra help and students not seeming to get around to doing the homework on time is about the
same as usual when I teach first year theory. Aw, geez, ya know, even the process of recording the grades
for the homework handed in is time-consuming. Which is why it's a good thing I get in so early on
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.
So on Mondays after I finish my 11-12 class, I drive to the NEC neighborhood and park -- sometimes in the
abutting garage, sometimes in the ice hockey rink when that garage is full, and get a little lunch
somewheres on Huntington Avenue in the 20 or 25 minutes available to me. Then I have two sophomores
and a second year graduate student at NEC, and they are very much different from each other, and pretty
different from Brandeis students. The gear shifting I have to do in those three hours is invigorating. And I
talk a lot, and my jaw gets a bit stiff, you know, with the TMJ thing. And then I just barely beat rush hour,
normally getting home by about 4:50. Yesterday I got back a little earlier, and of course there was a pile of
e-mail to deal with and recommendations to write. Hoo boy. Not to mention a pile of grading ahead of me
for today before I go out and do anything remotely fun. Or productive.
I also do six private lessons and a senior thesis at Brandeis, and they are fun, too. Well, not fun so much as
somewhat invigorating. And the Brandeis schedule with the Jewish holidays has been kooky at best, and
only getting kookier. Last week was the first "normal" week of teaching, the likes of which won't happen
again until mid-October. THIS week we have Thursday off, as we do next week, and to make up for it,
Wednesday is a Thursday schedule. The week after next, Tuesday becomes Thursday, which gives me four
straight teaching days, and what it is, too. On top of all this, I have meetings double-booked tomorrow -music department and Faculty Senate, and I can only do a half hour of the music department meeting. After
which I'll see Rick B here, in the gazebo and at the piano, for a dissertation consultation followed by pizza.
Yes, the academic life is exactly the cushy life they say it is. Of course, I left out the fact that I didn't lift a
finger for Brandeis from May 4 to August 27.
Ooh, ooh, ooh -- and since the first of the month, not a day has passed when I haven't been hit up for a
letter of recommendation. Today already is no exception. I wrote the letter already, since it could be done
online. So there.
Outside of the job stuff, there was a wild and wacky weekend, and it was this most recent one. On Friday
Beff had to go to an ACA Board meeting, being as she's on the ACA Board. I went along for reasons to be
disclosed later, and we took the Subaru. We got back in the dark, of course, and utilized the gazebo in order
to contextualize exactly two beers each. On Saturday, after I installed our new mailbox next to the front
door and took down the old one, we had lunch (tomato sandwiches) and then both drove, in separate cars,
to Bangor. We arrived within a minute of each other despite my big head start (or my big head), owing to
my stopping at Shaw's in Bangor for breakfast food materials. I got to experience the cool wi-fi there on the
network we called "Beffle", and then we went to Cristor's in downtown Bangor for dinner, because, you
see, it was Beff's birfday. Liz and Denny joined us, and we had a good meal and beer, except for me, who
happened to choose an entree that cook undercooked (ribs) and a replacement entree that cook also
undercooked (salmon), but in their favor, the vegetables were good, if cold.
And then Sunday I spent the morning and part of the afternoon grading theory homework (wouldn't you?)
while Beff went to the U of Maine to do a rehearsal for her faculty ensemble concert (they are called
Cadenzato, because all the good names seem to have been taken). At the last minute she reminded me that
the concert was at 2 and not at 3, which was a good idea. I was there because the group was doing the
American premiere of my RULE OF THREE for flute, clarinet and piano that had been commissioned in
2004 (at the beginning of my soon no longer to be legendary Chairmanship) by Kettle's Yard at Oxford U in
England, and it was my hope that they would take the tempi I wrote, not just the convenient ones. It turned
out to be a rather good performance, and so far I have no opinion of the piece, which left my memory so
long ago -- but I will get to know it from the Edirol recording that Beff made (how come the U of Maine

doesn't record their official concerts on their own?) and form one. The last movement, which "swings"
Raymond Scott-style occasionally swung, occasionally didn't. Being that it was a strange hybrid of swingy
cartoon music and dissonant mod music, what can you do? What can you do? What can you do? But I am
repeating myself.
After the concert, of course I had to do the four hour drive back, and it was just my luck to pass the Bangor
Mall area after there had been a big accident just before a construction area where a lane was blocked off
anyway -- but the accident blocked off a different lane ... Nonetheless, I made it back in the late dusk, fed
the cats (who were nonplussed but not at all minussed), and went straight to bed. For you see, I noticed
during the drive to Maine that I had come down with a cold and was doing a bit of sneezing in my car on
the way up. I was reliant on Alka Seltzer Plus and lozenges for a while, and still am, and that moment about
45 minutes after you take the Alka Seltzer Plus where you suddenly feel spacy and like a renter in your own
head -- well, I could do with less of that. Funny, during my teaching day yesterday, I felt pretty good after
about halfway through the first theory class I taught, and no TMJ problems -- but the TMJ was back for my
NEC teaching, and I hate it when that happens.
Much earlier in this reporting period was the Rosh Hashanah week wherein we had yet another Thursday
off, and there was bike riding to be done, and a network to set up so that the wi-fi could reach to the
gazebo. Plus, I used my bike riding to go to West Concord to get the various weird pickles that I like and
carry them back in a backpack, so all of that was going on. And the Airport Express we got had been
delivered to Brandeis, so I went in to get it, and the department was a humming beehive of activity -- on a
day of no classes! Coming back that Friday with the Airport Express, I also stopped at BJs for cat litter,
tomatoes, pickles, other big stuff, and started reading the instructions to set up the AirPort Express in the
"extend an existing Airport network" mode. Which was ... as is usual for setting up or configuring home
networks ... NO FUN. The printed manual referred to some nonexistent things in the software, and I tried to
configure and reconfigure from various computers, and at one point seriously hobbled the network and
changed some sort of password so that all the hardware had to be cold-reconfigured and we had to start
from scratch. After finally getting a computer that would recognize the Airport Express so I could configure
it, the "configure" buttons were grayed out. And I hate it when that happens. So in the true American
entrepreneurial spirit, I just kept running configure programs until one of them let me do what I wanted to
do, and .. voila, I got the "configure" button, but was stopped by not knowing the hardware password to the
Airport Extreme. Sigh. So I had to change that on ANOTHER computer, go try software until it worked,
and .... finally it did.
So now we have the Airport Express in the downstairs bath. When it is plugged into the wall socket, it
"extends" the network, but not far enough so that our laptops in the gazebo can find it. Turns out if we put
an extension cord into the socket and place the Airport Express on the windowsill, then there is plenty of
wi-fi signal in the gazebo. So we are ... set. At least for when the weather is nice enough to be using the
gazebo anyway. We just have to remember to take the hardware out of the windowsill when the weather
gets wet, etc.
Speaking of said gazebo, we slept in it two nights -- once until 2 and once until 3. It gets strangely quiet out
there at night, especially if you are accustomed to the sound of traffic on Great Road, and I noticed the
distant St. Bridgets church bells chiming on every hour, which I don't normally hear inside. Nice. But the
second night we slept in the gazebo, the buttons on my cushion started digging into me, so I went in, Beff
followed.
Now there's hot weather forecast for today and tomorrow, and I used that last night to sleep in the gazebo
again, but I got tired (so to speak) after 45 minutes, and came back inside. So there, smarty pants.
And now .. on to my shower, and theory homework grading. After which it'll be nice and warm and time for
a bike ride. This week -- no school Thursday. Thursday afternoon I drive to Bronxville to stay with Hayes
and Susan, as my horn concerto is done at Juilliard Saturday night. Friday is a dress rehearsal, Saturday is a
MacDowell Fellows picnic in Central Park, and I also will meet with Marilyn to hear her part in my piano
concerto that afternoon. Beff is coming just for the day on Saturday, so she won't see Hayes and Susan's
new place, nor hear my piece. Which is fine -- as she has to drive to Maine, again, on Sunday.

And that's what's up now. Not many pictures takent the last two weeks, so enjoy just the gazebo shots
included below. Except for the one of Cammy kind of not acknowledging the gazebo, from afar.
--------------------------OCTOBER 7. Breakfast today was pancakes with syrup, and coffee. Lunch today was snacky chicken
("Rosemary" chicken) with steamed asparagus. Dinner last night was apparently the appetizer platter at the
Sit 'n' Bull, and beer. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 41.2 and 90.7. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Oops I Did It Again. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST
TWO WEEKS Schoenhut Toy Piano, $289 delivered; new timberland laceless shoes, $59. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My parents shelled out big money -- $425 -- for my Conn 88H trombone
in 1972 or 73, I forget which. It has the F attachment, and supercedes the student one I had owned until my
freshman year of high school. It was stored in the band room at high school, of course, where there used to
be a study hall one period a day. One day one of the kids in study hall thought it would be cool to take it out
of the case and kick it across the room. The dent remains to this day, there was no motion towards paying
us for damage caused, but it did provide proof that the bandroom wasn't a good place to have study halls.
Thanks, guys. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Pruxent. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the
unpredictability of TMJ, any sentence containing the phrase "George Bush". RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS celery and carrot sticks in hot sauce, sliced pears, lemonade and limeade. DISCOVERY OF
THE WEEK Bronxville. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: the amount right here in this
envelope. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Lexicon, Bio, Reviews 4. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy spending time under the
gazebo and then escaping from one of the narrowest places when he is called. And a long time spent
playing with a ping pong ball. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST WEEK: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I prefer laceless
shoes to laced ones. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The color
yellow makes a brief comeback. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,754. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.65 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE esprit d'escargot, a word that
has the same meaning in at least eight languages, a shoelace found in a storm drain, the last cigarette in the
pack.
A mere 12 days since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. The academic year has continued to do
what academic years do (such as seem to go on forever as well as provide a steady paycheck), and the two
sections of Theory 1 have moved past the introduction/re-teaching of tonal materials into (drum roll)
species counterpoint. This means I have resurrected all the old correcting marks I haven't used for at least
two years (such as OOR (out of range), tt (tritone), no news (starting on a unison and moving right to an
octave, or vice versa), as well as various arrows and parallelism markings. Think 34 students times 8 1st
species exercises per class, and we are talking lots of red ink. Teaching at NEC continues Monday
afternoons, and composition teaching features, for the first time in my life, some referring to music of John
Adams for models.
Outside of all that, there has been the one long trip to New York spanning Sukkot evening until the
following Sunday morning, encompassing much, much activity. So lemme splain. It used to be that on
every other trip to NYC I would sponge off of Hayes and Susan, who had a small apartment in Chelsea, on
West 21st Street. Not to say it was REALLY small, but it used to be Susan's apartment by herself, and even
the mice are hunchbacked, and when you put the key in the door, you have a serious chance of breaking the
window. Rim shot. Rim shot. So last spring (May, to be more precise), they purchased a co-op in
Bronxville, about a half-hour by train north of Grand Central. This was my first time seeing (and staying
in) the place, so it was an adventure, and hey -- there was free parking on the street right in front of their
building. As to the co-op, it is roughly 3 to 4 times the size of the Chelsea place, and Hayes has a regular
parking space in a lot. Or a lot of parking in a space.
The co-op is a mere 12-minute walk to downtown Bronxville, which reminds me in tone and tenor of one
of the villages of Concord (Massachusetts), where there is a train station, on the Harlem River line. Round

trips into the City are $11 from there, and, as I mentioned earlier, the trip is about a half hour. So there is
great flexibility when you have stuff to do in the city and I did, Oscar, I did. So on Sukkot eve, I took
Hayes's driving directions, which were precise and perfect (composers tend to give precise and perfect
directions), involving the Sprain Parkway and then the Bronx River Parkway off of the Cross County
Parkway, and whoops, before I knew it, there I was. I got there before either Hayes or Susan got home from
work, and just barely before dark, so I walked around to see the vastness of Bronxville -- a bedroom
community if ever there was one -- not to mention the bridges over Central Avenue, the Sprain Parkway,
the Bronx River Parkway, and all sorts of other things going north-south (as everyone is either escaping
New York, or rushing into it).
I had come to New York because Joel Sachs was conducting my horn concerto LOCKING HORNS at
Juilliard Saturday night, and the next to last rehearsal was slated for Friday night from 9 to 10:30. All kind
of other appointments were scheduled around that, and felicitously enough, the MacDowell Colony 100th
Anniversary reunion picnic in Central Park was happening Saturday afternoon. Woo hoo, and wa ha. Also,
wee hee, and way hay, but slightly less so. Hayes is on the MacDowell Fellows Committee Something, so
he was going to be working the picnic, so I knew there would be a ride into NYC available, should I want
one. Plus, Beff decided to pop into town for the picnic, but not the horn concerto. So.
So Sukkot Evening, I ran into Susan coming home from the train as I was going toward it. We entered the
co-op, I marveled at its size and newly outfitted outfitness, and we served ourselves more beer than was
feasible. When Hayes got home from his faculty senate meeting at the Manhattan School, Susan put
together a little pizza from readily available ingredients -- after calling Hayes on his cell to pick up
mozzarella on his way home (she expressed his tone as "grumbling", and then giggled). The next day Susan
got up early for work (5:10 am, as I recall), and Hayes and I walked to the train station for HIS train at
around 9:30, so I would know where the station was. Then I walked back and experience the great joy of
grading theory homework. I then took an 11:30 (or so) train to meet Jay Eckardt in the Columbia
neighorhood for lunch. And we had a Thai lunch with plenty of Singha to go around, I went back to
Bronxville, graded more homework, came back, and met Hayes near Lincoln Center for dinner. At which
time a sudden unexpected half-hour cloudburst happened. So we walked up Columbus Avenue until we
found the Something Grill, where we ate, and while we were standing under an awning I thought I saw
someone who looked just like Dalit Warshaw walk by. I thought of calling out to her, but what if I was
wrong? So we ate and paid way too much (it was my treat), and then Hayes went his merry way, after
dropping me off at Juilliard for my rehearsal.
Juilliard is under construction and reconstruction, so it was pretty hard to find out where to go in -- in fact,
following the arrow that pointed toward "Juilliard" brought me to a dead end. I kind of ended up using a
back entry for students only, but persuaded the guards to let me in, especially when the bass player in my
piece said to me, "I'm playing your piece". And so I went to rehearsal room 309, sat down with a bunch of
strange people, and watched instrumentalists warming up. Joel Sachs found me (we hadn't encountered
each other since Dartington, summer 1994), situated me near the front, kept telling me the balances would
not be like those in the hall, and ran some things. Meanwhile, there were about 15 students to the side
seated in folding chairs, who were introduced to me as "the entire first year graduate drama class", who
apparently were there because someone in drama decided drama students could learn about cooperation and
working together by watching a music rehearsal. Woo hoo, paper pushers to the rescue! After about 65
minutes of rehearsing and me making comments (mostly positive ones -- I know how to butter up
conservatory students), questions were taken from the drama class, which fit into two categories: do you
carry this stuff around in your head? and who listens to this stuff? After the rehearsal ended, back to Grand
Central and to Bronxville. One piece of information, by the way, had been imparted to me for the first time
EVER at this rehearsal -- that my dress rehearsal, in the hall, was the next morning at 10:30. Wow.
So on Saturday it was into the City with Hayes, in his Honda, who left me off close to Lincoln Center. I
went to my rehearsal, and made my comments -- Tianxia Wu, the solo hornist, was sounding fabulous, and
the balances came together nicely, so I whistled my way out of the hall. Then subwayed up to the 103rd and
Broadway area, got subs at Subway for me 'n' Beff 'n' Hayes, found where the MacDowell picnic was (the
"great lawn" or something like that, on the "great hill" near 103rd and Central Park West), sat on a park
bench for a while while the people I recognized from Peterborough were dealing with the "swag", and

greeted Beff when she arrived. She'd parked on 103rd, slightly legally, and was okay. We situated ourselves
on a MacDowell swag blanket, and ate our subs, along with Hayes, who was manning the cupcake number.
After a while we spread out a bit and found some other people we knew -- and most of the people we saw
we knew either from Yaddo or the VCCA (exceptions: Anna Weesner and Pat Oleszko), including a big
pack of Yaddo '07 people congregating around Sebastian Currier. After the various awkward "I know you,
but from when....?" moments, there was a bit of filming with the flip video, posing for the big picture, and
then escaping with our swag, which now included a red frisbee.
From there we walked around Central Park West, Columbus Ave, and the low West 100s, until it was about
time for me to get on a B train to meet Marilyn Nonken at NYU, where we were to meet to go over her part
in my piano concerto. Beff drove off, I found a station on 96th and CPW, was informed by the conductor
that THE B DOES NOT RUN ON WEEKENDS EVERYBODY GET ON THIS TRAIN AND LISTEN TO
THE FOLLOWING FIFTEEN POSSIBILITIES FOR HOW TO GET WHERE YOU WANT TO GO, and I
got off just a few blocks from where I'd intended to get off. Meanwhile, my feet were kind of hurting from
all the walking, and I walked with a stance that was designed to stave off blisters, but that probably pegged
me as a bag person.
And there, in Marilyn's office, was my toy piano, Marilyn's piano, a desk, a harpsichord, and lots of other
stuff. We spent about an hour, maybe, going through the really, really difficult stuff she has to play (I can't
believe she learned it in a week), but she apologized for being rusty because she'd been doing jury duty for
the previous two weeks. Yeah, she was rusty, and we didn't agree on how she was playing the scherzo
movement, but everything else sounded fantastic. So much so that I took out the Flip and we filmed some
of the cooler parts -- the toy piano stuff before the cadenza, the cadenza itself, the end of the first
movement, and the first fast scales stuff from the finale. See "Marilyn's concerto excerpts" for the YouTube
placement of those videos. Also see the "Scherzo stuff" link over there for our foreshortened filming of that
music.
So after all that exciting stuff, both of us went to the Bowery Diner, or something like that, around the
corner, for dinner, wine and beer (guess which I had?), and then I cabbed it to Lincoln Center (33% tip),
went into the hall, and enjoyed myself. It was a vigorous mix of music, I got to sit with Hayes, it was well
performed, and I even encountered Julie-Miguel in the audience for the first time in ten years (she had been
an ethnomusicologist at Columbia when I was on the faculty there, and she even visited us when we lived
in Maryland). Dalit was there, too, but I did not see her. After the concert, Hayes drove us home, and boy
did we enjoy ourselves.
The next morning I up and drove back to Maynard as soon as I woke up, arriving home by 9:30, ready to
make breakfast. The rest of the day was spent finishing my grading and watching and converting and
uploading the videos I had made in New York.
Meanwhile, THIS last week was a week with a missing Thursday due to Shmini Atzeret, so after the usual
bunch of teaching I got to get to work on a piano variation. I will splain, but first I will mention that Geoffy
was in the guest room for a fair part of the week, so it was fun fun fun all around. So Kai Schumacher, a
pianist in Amsterdam, is asking composers to write variations on a theme of his own, I said yes, and I
started working on my variation on Tuesday. I finished it late Friday (N.B. all of Thursday morning until
lunch time was spent grading counterpoint homework, dontcha know), and it was long and complex enough
for me to decide it was an etude -- Geoffy played through it and convinced me to call it one, so now I have
an ETUDE 81 (see yellow links on the left) that is also a variation on Kai's theme. The variation, such as it
is, is far longer than the theme.
And then of course it got freakishly warm yet again, and slept TWICE in the gazebo, neither time later than
midnight. Once with Beff. So there.
Yesterday was Maynard Fest followed by Octoberfest in Maynard, and John Aylward scheduled a brief
visit, so we did that. After enjoying the gazebo in the freakishly warm weather, we walked downtown, saw
Maynardfest starting and Octoberfest not yet beginning, popped into Door & Window where people were
having beer in the conference room (yecch), and decided to settle in at the Sit n Bull Pub nearby, where

Pete Best (yes, once of the Beatles) was to be playing that night. We got a highly flustered new waitress,
ordered beer and appetizers, left a good tip, and walked back home. John left a couple of DVDs of his
group's concerts in Virginia and New York and asked for me to extract the video from some of them -- and
that included his performances of Sliding Scales and Chorale Fantasy. Those two are up on YouTube
already. See the links up there. (Meanwhile, also see the movie of Cammy playing with the mechanical bird
that Gardner McFall gave me at Yaddo -- she also got me a pony) The others have now been extracted and
are waiting to be given to him. What I say.
As I type this (Sunday afternoon) I not only hear the peals of childish laughter coming from the neighbors,
I am alone in the house with one toilet seat and two toilets. Beff and her sister -- who is visiting for a day
on her way to Providence -- have gone to Lowes, among other places, to get a new toilet seat for the
upstairs bathroom. And meanwhile, the plan is for swordfish puttanesca for dinner, because it is what I have
decided the plan for dinner is.
This coming week is a weird one at Brandeis, as we pay for the Thursdays we had off -- four straight days
of theory etc. and the Open House, which puts me in lots of places while wearing a tie. I ordered another
toy piano because of various things that might or might not happen with bringing my toy piano from
Marilyn's office up for the concerto, and besides, Marilyn wants to buy that toy piano now. Perhaps she has
big plans for more concerto performances. And then, and then ... everything else is just a light.
There was no camera-lugging this last twelve days, so the pictures below are screenshots from the videos I
took at the MacDowell Reunion picnic. People in evidence include Hayes (wearing a kerchief and looking
away), Pat Oleszko and Anna Weesner, Dalit Warshaw and Damon, Blake Tewksbury, and the crowd being
instructed by Cheryl Young (very distant and strangely isolated) about the group photo.
----------------------OCTOBER 19. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
Lunch was a Trader Joe's pizza. Dinner last night was Boca sausage sandwiches. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 35.1 and 74.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS Zipper Tango. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Schoenhut Toy Piano, $289
delivered (retake); replacement handle for washing machine plus labor, $215; Stravinsky scores, $33.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was a grad student at Princeton, we lived at a
dumpy place in half a house on Berrien Court and used to throw departmental parties -- in particular, I
remember one where all the faculty, including famous ones, showed up. I gave a good, good beer to Milton
Babbitt, and as he was finishing it handed him another one -- which is how I have a picture of Milton
Babbitt holding two beers, double-fisted drinking, as it were. When I emerged into the living room with a
Watney's Stingo -- considered a really good beer -- Milton said, "David, you f**king Polack, put that in a
glass." Understanding, of course, that he was using a term of endearment (since he pronounced the "w" in
my last name like a "v"). THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Distaled. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF grading species counterpoint homework, grading species counterpoint homework, grading
species counterpoint homework, anything involving Republicans. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS potato chips and pickles dipped in hot sauce, spring water with powdered twist of lime or
lemon. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK other composers using the same spacing of an 026 trichord as me.
THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page,
Performances, Compositions, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: We keep cat treats in a little portable bunch of steps (which we use to get into the
new storage space in the mud room), and Cammy now signals his want of said treats by reaching into the
handle for those steps. That, and they are currently mousers for another week. RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 15. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I like listening to Puccini. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Clapping with one hand becomes a marketable vocation. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 10,772. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.67 at Cumberland Farms in
Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE the sticky stuff on a Post-It, humor targeted at paralegals, a sock that's too big for your
foot, the word that you just can't recall.

I know what you're thinkin'. Okay, you called my bluff. I don't know what you're thinkin'. But I can guess.
You're thinkin' I've been doing just so much these last twelve days since the last update that this thing will
be crammed with new information. Well, wrong you are, pieface. Last week was the long-dreaded FOUR
STRAIGHT TEACHING DAY week, with eight theory classes to teach and the requisite huge pile of
homework coming in as a result of it. Indeed, at one point I almost entirely burned out on the grading thing
-- between Monday of this week and Wednesday of this week, I had almost six hours worth of grading to
do -- which is fine if you are, say, reading essays, but not when you are correcting the likes of 150 2nd
species counterpoints and 80 3rd species counterpoints. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself -- which in
four dimensions is possible, but not so in three.
So lemme splain. Last week, during my week of too much teaching (compared to this week, the week of
too much grading), Beff, in her parallel Maine-y reality, had to dispose of dead or nearly dead mice on three
consecutive days. They had apparently crawled out from under the (electric) stove in the Bangor house in
order to die with dignity. I think Beff disposed of them with as much dignity as she could muster (sniff).
But it certainly put in relief why every time we take the cats to Maine they spend a large part of the day in
the kitchen staring at the stove. So at first I suggested traps and D-Con for while she was gone, but then we
had the collective brainstorm to have the cats in Maine for two weeks in order to have them air out their
instincts and become professional mousers during that time. So they are there now, and getting them there
was just slightly more difficult than usual, since they now know that when the cat carriers come out of the
attic, there's a long cooped-up ride ahead of them. Cammy, in fact, ran under the couch and started
growling. In the end, I won.
So Beff took them there this last Sunday, and immediately they started hanging around the stove. So our
nefarious plan is working.
Meantime. I did my normal Monday Brandeis teaching -- an office hour, two theory classes; but I did not
drive to Boston to teach at NEC because they get Columbus Day off and Brandeis does not. So along with
UV and Bob Nieske, I manned a table in Gosman Gym at the yearly fall open house for prospective
students looking at Brandeis. It was a good thing there were three of us, since there were a lot of people
asking about the department, and there was a line for at least 45 minutes of our hour and a half. Every year
we get at least one prospective who doesn't want to ask about the department so much as stand there and
drone on about how he or she got to like music, what pieces they learned, what they've been listening to,
etc., and this year I got that one. So after that was all done, back home I came, with maybe two hours of
grading to do.
Tuesday was a Thursday day, so I taught straight without a break from 9 to 2:30; grading was about two
hours that night. Wednesday became a bit of a reprieve day, even though I still had a 9 am student and two
theory classes. My 12:00 and 2:00 had both become ill and cancelled; so at 12 I was lookin' for a lunch
second, but as I was about to do that, I got an e-mail from my 1:00 saying he, too, was sick. Incidentally,
every cancelling person was looking for an alternative time on Thursday to meet, and I gave 10 minutes to
somebody and a half hour to someone else, simply because my Thursday people, having just seen me on
Tuesday, probably could do with just a half hour of instruction, and, and, and ... so anyway, even though I
have a published 3-4 office hour on Wednesday, I came home. Played with cats. Hung out and graded
homework in the gazebo (for a little while, anyway -- it was in the mid 50s). Grading was two and a half
hours.
And on Thursday, everyone in both theory classes had major species counterpoint fatigue, and much of
both classes was themed around how completely fatigued we all were. When my teaching was up, I
hightailed it outta there, came home, and ... rested. For it was the fourth day.
The weekend was largely uneventful. Beff came home on Friday instead of Thursday because of various
things in academia that have sucked her in. We exercised, we played with the cats, etc. We even took the
long, long walk OVER Summer Hill (highest elevation in Maynard), which is a big hike, and circled
around through downtown (at which time I took the baby foliage pictures below). Alas, my new
Timberland laceless shoes are apparently a little inappropriate for hiking, as I had to keep retightening my

left shoe. Because it was, uh, loose. THEN just after lunch time, Cammy and Sunny got taken to Maine.
And after that was the grading, about three and a half hours.
So this most recent Monday was more typical. Office hour, two classes, drive to Boston. I now don't have a
1:00, at least for most of the rest of the term, so I can have a more leisurely lunch -- which I tend to do at an
Irish pub place called Conor Larkin, which has Buffalo wings. After that lunch, I found Espresso Music -in a building owned by NEC in which I used to take trombone lessons -- which has an excellent selection,
AND a discount for NEC faculty. Where I got the Stravinsky Octet and Three Pieces for String Quartet.
Good thing I had the discount. Taught Miriam and Travis, had a roaring good time. Came home, and rested.
Did about an hour and a half of grading.
Then Tuesday morning it hit me. At 7:30 am I saw how vast the pile of yet to be graded homework was and
flipped my gourd. But not literally. I finished the grading around lunch time and finally breathed out. While
I was grading, an A&E Repairman was here (I think that's what it's called -- it appears on the credit card
statement as being related to Sears, who seems to own everything) replacing the broken handle on the
Whirlpool front loader washer (which broke after only two years. Never buy a Whirlpool appliance again,
and I won't either, okay?) -- final cost $215, of which $65 was for the new handle (the rest was for the
labor), which clearly is made of about $3 worth of materials. See picture below. And then when that was all
done, I reveled at opening and closing the washer door without using a screwdriver (words by which to
live).
In the meantime, I had ordered my 2007 cheap percussion toy things from Musician's Friend, and they
arrived on Tuesday -- a guiro, a triangle, bongos, and a shaker. They all got taken to Brandeis for the fun
that you can have with them when they are at Brandeis. I also got more chatter stones at the 5 and 10 in
West Concord, since they have them (I actually bought all the ones they had left), and I am obsessive about
having "good" ones for the piano concerto performance. For you see, in the piano concerto's third
movement, all three percussionists use them simultaneously and for the effect to be right, they have to be
pristine. Etcetera. Meanwhile, I had started noticing that the toy piano I had ordered from All About Pianos
hadn't arrived, and was giving it one more day. One more day. One more. One. On. O. And as if just piling
it on -- one thing for which I was nominated that I had applied for e-mailed me to say, hey where's your
application? The deadline passed! Sigh. As I geared up to replicate it, they e-mailed back and said never
mind, here it is right here. Grrr.
Wednesday was a trippy day since it was nonstop -- Short Peter's big flute piece, third species twice, Dave's
piano pieces and jazz band piece upcoming, Tall Peter's trio, Yohanan's duo, an office hour where a new
major got signed up and I had to have other various conversations with undergrads, and ... I drove home.
No toy piano arrival. Looked at the online banking statement and discovered that my debit card had never
been charged for it. So, sigh, I did it again. Now it's SUPPOSED to arrive next Monday, and I have a UPS
tracking number, and everything. Then while watching boring political TV, spent two and a quarter hours
grading. And slept strangely soundly (now there's a title....).
Yesterday was Rachel's musical, the championship of third species twice (prize: goopy eyes that glow in
the dark) and introduced fourth species, Florie's piano piece, Jeremy's trio, Rick's dissertation piece, and
back to home. And it got strangely warm again, and very, very humid -- so much so that there are a lot of
ladybugs in various windows in the house, and that's just gross. Constructed handouts for next week's
theory classes (as I show them some actual counterpoint in music). I got the DVD from John Aylward's
Tufts recital, extracted my two pieces and put them on YouTube (now there are four) -- and for the first
time I actually liked Chorale Fantasy. Eww. And then slept in the gazebo, until 2:30. And again, strangely
soundly.
I began this morning at 6:45, had what you read above for breakfast. Then I proceeded to write nine Rome
Prize letters, none of which I saved on the computer (they sure better get there). I'm pretty sure at least
seven of the people I wrote for won't get it, and I hope they don't blame me. When the letters were done and
signed, I walked to the post office, mailed them, gave bones to Zoe at Maynard Door and Window (Zoe is a
dog, incidentally), and had the Trader Joe's pizza, and here I am!

MEANWHILE. My piano concerto premieres two weeks from today. The excitement is not yet palpable,
though there are bits of worrisome worrying that are not being done by me. Right now the question of the
day is -- will "Marilyn's" toy piano make it from New York to Boston? I'm not stressed about that, and
neither is Gil Rose (the conductor). There IS a new one coming to Maynard on Monday (so they say) but
there's no guarantee it will have the requisite action to be useful in my piece (it gets played very fast). It's
also being recorded in Worcester on Monday the 5th of November, so planning makeup teaching is yet
another small burden being placed here -- and meanwhile, while Marilyn is in town, she's doing a
colloquium at Brandeis on Thursday the 1st at 4:30 and will be speaking with me to Eric Chasalow's
American Music class on Halloween -- guess what about? No, not goblins.
And as part of the big publicity blitz (on top of Gil Rose's official description of this concert as a "barn
burner"), I am being interviewed on WMBR Radio in Cambridge (88.1) on Tuesday afternoon at 3. I plan
to construct elaborate falsehoods, right there on the spot! And meanwhile -- I have revised the syllabus for
first year theory to accommodate the rehearsals that conflict with teaching, and vice versa. And whaddaya
know -- another huge big fat piece coming up with yet another equally elaborate premiere (since there are
five of them) and I now know that March 2 and the USMB is at Northern Virginia Community College, and
the SMU one in Dallas is on April 25. Anyone coming along for either of those? Ah, but I digress. Of
course we digress! Don't everybody?
And Dalit Warshaw got a "Google alert" that this here space used her name last time (pictures from the
MacDowell reunion). I had no idea such a thing existed, and she used the occasion to hit me up for a Rome
Prize letter (Don't everybody?). So she says she learned of its existence from Michael Torke (hi Michael!
You are a great composer!), and now she's going to get an alert that she "hit me up" for a letter. This is
okay. This is. This. Thi. Th. T.
Upcoming. Duh, piano concerto. Thanksgiving in Chicago. This is midterm week, and I had to submit
midterm grades (which, surprisingly, isn't even close to the top of the pile of Stupidest Things I Am
Required To Do Regularly At Brandeis), so that must mean the term is half over. I prefer to think of it as
half under. And as usual, time has seemed to go very fast and very slow at the same time. The slow thing -that's what's happenin' as a result of you reading this. The fast thing -- that's what you feel when you finally
throw your hands up and stop reading. So.
Beff and I have a usual 2-1/2 mile exercise walk that is a loop going over the Assabet, etc., and we've been
unable to do so for a while because the old 1920 bridge has been demolished and a new one is going up.
One of the lanes actually got demolished about 6 years ago and it's been a one-lane bridge, with a whole
mess of construction material just sitting nearby all that time. Finally I guess the town got enough money to
finish the job. So we don't do the big circle anymore. It's more like a loopy rubber band, and what it is, too.
So see the construction in the pictures below. See also the entire washer handle assembly that cost $65,
Sunny on the gazebo, and various baby foliage from around Maynard. Bye.
-----------------------------------------NOVEMBER 6. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
Lunch yesterday was the cajun chicken wrap (with Droolie!) at Spoodles in Worcester. Last night's dinner
was Boca sausage sandwiches and a whole mess o' celery with hot sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
SINCE LAST UPDATE 26.8 and 78.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First
movement of the Rakowski Piano Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Tires and
new muffler/tailpipe, $840. New little camera and data card, $342. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: At NEC there were 5 required semesters of music history courses, and it was obviously
presumed that students would take one per semester, because the final exams for all of them were always
scheduled at the same time. Little did I know when I took THREE the second semester of my freshman
year -- Medieval/Renaissance, Baroque, and 20th Century. Trying to schedule the makeup times for
conflicts looked like it'd be daunting until Dan Pinkham and Bill Warriner both put me on their list of "so
smart they don't have to take the Final". So I had no conflict, and I aced John Heiss's 20th Century final,
too. At the time, there was only three-fourths of the 20th century to cover, so there was less material. (and
still no Britten) THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Dristal. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF

Driving to New York (even though I only did it once), Congressional Democrats, grading counterpoint
homework. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS lemonade and limeade, celery dipped in hot sauce.
DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK D major followed by F7/Eb is hot, hot, hot! THIS WEEK'S NUMBER
BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2.14923. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Reviews 4.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy is doing
the occasional Wild Kitty thing for no reason in the early morning. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 19. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE: We subscribe to Entertainment Weekly, and the first place I turn to in every
issue is the quotes from TV last week. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: In foliage season, leaves do the same thing that dusted vampires do on Buffy the Vampire
Slayer. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,841. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$2.79 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $3.05 in Connecticut, $2.89 at the Gulf station near Brandeis.
OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT
ONE a snood, an old Fifth Dimension 45, twelve more ways of looking at a blackbird, a pie with a few too
many prunes in it.
I just flew in from the other room, and boy is my face tired. But seriously, ladies and germs. It have been a
very active couple o' weeks, and I'm just the guy to tell you about them. Just watch me!
But first. I looked at a few statistics for access to this very website. Yes, dear readers, the one you are
currently reading. And these came up for last Thursday and last week:
Call me Martler
Jeasas
Dear Mummy
Scool papers
Buttstix

These may be meaningless to you, but I assure you, they are equally meaningless to me. On the right,
though -- the most viewed page is the Home page, but the second most viewed page (usually not even on
the chart) is the Buttstix page. Hmm.
When last we spoke (I speak figuratively now), I was still in the throes of teaching fourth species
counterpoint and was about to move on to fifth. Which I did, Oscar, I did. The time spent grading the
homework declined nicely, and I probably only spent about five hours grading homework, instead of what
had become the customary thirteen, last week. I also enforced a discipline of starting to grade sooner than
later. It didn't last.
Meanwhile the Needy Season arrived, and enough students wanted advice and so on that I scheduled some
lessons and stuff for some no longer enrolled but going towards dissertation during my office hours, and of
course I managed to corral some more new majors and minors. Plus, I went to a faculty senate meeting that
actually concluded in less than the allotted time. What I least like about Faculty Senate meetings is that a

large part is spent assigning people to committees, a chore I dislike. So I spend a great deal of time trying to
will myself into invisibility. So far it seems to have worked. One of these days it won't work any more.
Then the piano concerto event ramped up, and ramped up pretty quickly. On the Tuesday following the last
update, I was scheduled by BMOP's publicist for a live radio appearance on the MIT radio station, to be
interviewed by the estimable Ken Field. And if you were to ask me, I couldn't come up with a workable
definition of "estimable", so I'll leave it up to the context to explain it, and that usually suffices. On that
date, then, I figured I would try to park at a local commuter rail station and take a train in. Plus, I was
scheduled within the nth degree to meet with Gil Rose beforehand to go over particulars on the CD that
BMOP is making -- I had already factored in that he would be late by 15 to 25 minutes. So I drove to South
Acton station, and there was no parking. Thus I drove to West Concord and found ONE spot, and was on
time for the 11:07 train, which actually arrived at 11:32. Fine, since I wasn't due for any appointment until
1:45. I ate lunch at the Cambridge Common, where I had "sliders" -- apparently the new cool thing at some
restaurants. Basically White Castle burgers, except more complicated (with counterpoint and a definite
urlinie).
At 1:45 I got a call on my cell phone from Gil saying he was just finishing lunch and would be right there -which by now was Kendall Square. At 2:14 we met and at 2:30 I had to amble to the station, and the
weather was gorgeous, if airy. The interview was personable and mellow -- as one would expect -- and it
was odd being the guy who writes skittery, fast music on the program of a guy who obviously leans toward
mellow jazz. So he played some of my slow music. Which isn't mellow, but by definition is slow. We
finished early enough that I could get the 4:05 out of Porter back to West Concord and not have to wait till
the 5:00. Heck, there was even enough time for me to purchase some commuter rail tickets in the new
automated machines!
The next big event had to do with getting the toy piano from Marilyn's office at NYU to Boston, and that
problem wasn't getting solved by the BMOP office -- which was, of course, swamped with stuff to do for
the first concert of the season. So on Friday morning I up and started to drive New Yorkwards. And just a
few hundred feet short of the toll booths in Worcester, I heard the sound of my muffler dragging on the
road. Sigh. I pulled over, called 911 (this is why we get cell phones), had a police car with flashing lights in
back of me for 25 minutes, and then a nice, really big tow truck guy showed up with a flatbed. He looked at
the muffler and said, "how'd you like for me to fix it right now? You could just drive off". I said okay, and
he pulled a bunch of wire clothes hangers out of his truck and a wire cutter. He spent maybe ten minutes
under the car, occasionally coming out to cut another piece of hanger, and said "that'll be 15 bucks. It'll last
for weeks, maybe months." I was grateful. I had, meanwhile, called Marilyn to let her know I couldn't make
it, and she started making plans to get a driver for the piano (she doesn't drive) and her, and I was able to
call her back a half hour later to let her know I was on my way. Of course, I was extremely cognizant of
every single bump for the first 20 miles or so, before I loosened up a bit.
I made it to Marilyn's office a little after 11, she handed over the contraband, and I drove right back.
Getting from the east side to the west side took 25 minutes, whereas west to east took 5. Remember that,
kimosabe. At the first rest stop in Connecticut I looked at the jerryrigged setup, and the muffler was still in
place, though the clamp part was a-swingin' free. Which I sort of reattached. Success! But of course I
couldn't bring the toy piano to rehearsal, so Gil Rose -- who seems to be able to do just about anything -arranged for Tony D'Amico (who lives not so far away) to pick it up from my back porch Saturday night
and bring it to the first rehearsal. He was like a thief in the night, except we WANTED him to take our
stuff. Meanwhile, as my "payment" for doing the toy piano run, I wheedled a bunch of free tickets from
BMOP -- 10 for students who had to ask for tix for "Amanda Lovankiss" and 3 for friends (Rick Scott, a
ka-ching twin, and Seunghee) who had to ask for tix for "Super Malibu Barbie". David Sanford only had to
ask for the unusual name of "David Rakowski".
On the weekend, the RAKING portion of our autumn began in earnest. Saturday -- on which day I took the
car to the Toyota dealer to be fixed, and was told I also needed new tires (the tailpipe was cracked, also -which must have been from that piece of sidewalk that I drove over several weeks back) -- it rained a whole
mess. Nonetheless, we got stuff at Trader Joes (which is near the Toyota Dealer) and had good stuff to eat.
Really. Sunday it cleared up and there were big piles of leaves on the driveway (the border of driveway and

yard was not discernible), so we cleared those as a start. The leaves were so heavy from the rain that we
broke not one, but TWO rakes barreling them and discarding them. In all, we took care of about ten barrels
of them. To continue the narrative here -- the following Tuesday I raked the northwest portion of the front
yard, then the rest of the yard and most of the driveway last Sunday. The current total taken care of now
numbers 39 barrels plus eight barrels of fallen apples from a particularly fecund year for them (boy do I
want to get rid of that tree NOW). PLUS I took care of some of the branches from yet another ailanthus tree
that fell from the neighbor's yard into ours -- the neighbor took care of the actual tree part. For you see, it
had been windy that Friday. And on Sunday I spilled ice tea on my little Sony camera, thus making it
inoperative. So I bought another one, 8 megapixels instead of 5, and for less money. So there.
Back to the master narrative. Which will entitle The Glamour of Being A Living Classical Composer. Note
the European spelling of "glamour". Note the American spelling of "composer". Note the universal
definition of "being". Rehearsals began last Tuesday, in the basement of a Masonic Hall in Cambridge, and
again my nefarious plan was to take the commuter rail in. I happened to be unlucky enough for the first
rehearsal to coincide with the day Boston was giving a parade to celebrate the Red Sox World Series
victory, and this time there was no parking at South Acton OR West Concord, so I connived to park in a
neighborhood nearby, all the while willing my car to be invisible (it was still evident when I got back, so it
must have worked). And the train -- late by 25 minutes again. Too bad there isn't 25 minutes worth of stuff
to do in West Concord. SO, the train was loaded with lots of Red Sox people talking about how they never
go into Boston or take the train, and was SO full that it was ... free! Life's small consolations.
So in Cambridge, at the Masonic Hall, all were present, and even the toy piano made it. The first rehearsal
went swimmingly (I may be all wet when I say that ... sorry, that one was too easy, plus it's not even funny),
and things sounded surprisingly good (given that I wrote them). The wind playing in particular was
splendiforous, and I made a few rough recordings for the sake of reference. The piano was something that
Marilyn lovingly called "kindling", but all 88 keys worked. After this rehearsal, Marilyn and I dinnered
with John Aylward at the Cambridge Common (wouldn't you?), and I got a nice commuter rail back. I got
the rehearsal files and made a CD for reference sake for Marilyn.
And then was Monday, a normal teaching day except that Marilyn and I were to lead Eric Chasalow's
American music class at noon. Which we did, though I got a call on my cell while teaching theory from
Marilyn that she got off at the wrong stop. A cab brought her in in the nick of time (the class was
particularly impressed with the quality of wind playing for a first rehearsal). And fun we had. After my next
3 hours of teaching, we came back to Maynard, had seafood, and Marilyn went back to her hotel.
Thursday was another one of those days morning rehearsal, and gorgeous weather. I got into Cambridge
early, thus discovering that during rush hour the worst traffic is near Concord, and near where Route 2 goes
to the Alewife Parkway. The morning rehearsal went extremely well, I got more reference recordings, and a
violinist collapsed and was rushed away by EMT's. A strange situation that was the first time for me, and
Gil Rose handled it expertly. Then, after I fed my meter a few times, we drove to Brandeis using the route I
used to use when I subletted in Cambridge. It's prettier during the daylight. And I was ONLY ten minutes
late to my usual Thursday teaching. Which was followed by a faculty meeting and a colloquium by
Marilyn, which was very well received. After dinner with the faculty, back home came I. Just about ten
minutes before Beff got in.
Friday was the concert, of course. Beff had to go to a conference of "telling our assessment stories" at Holy
Cross College, and I went into Boston in order to park for the overnight, and got a nice lunch at Pizzeria
Uno, and it was an excellent dress rehearsal, which again I made reference recordings of (see "Concerto 1
dress" link in green above -- for the other movements, substitute the number 2, 3 and 4 for "1") and even a
little Flip Video of the first five minutes before I got tired of holding the thing (see "Concerto Opening"
link). Right as my dress rehearsal ended, Beff called -- she was in our room at the Colonnade Hotel, so
timing was exquisite. After meeting her there and relaxing a bit, we dinnered at Betty's Wok and Noodle
(used to be Ann's Restaurant, 89 cents for a burger and fries, what happened to my youth, etc.) and
convened in time for the pre-concert thing with Lisa Bielawa, who, as always, was in fine form. When
Michael Colgrass brought up how sometimes in writing, the piece starts to talk to you, and I was asked to
comment about that, and being literal instead of all metaphorical, I noted that recreational drugs often helps

with such things. Because my pieces often have unibrows.

Then there was the concert. Excellent, excellent, playing all around, and so much music! My piece started
at 9:56 and ended at 10:32. Frank Oteri sat right in back of us and Richard Buell right in back of him, and
Marilyn was amazing. The toy piano plus piano excerpt was probably conceived as something funny and
ironic, but given the tempo at that time, I noticed people staring gape-mouthed at that moment, and the
funny one toy piano note in the cadenza got no laughs (gape mouths were still in evidence, and I think I
noticed myself drooling out of mine by this point). There were lots of curtain calls (five, I think), and it was
fun being backstage watching the monitor during Marilyn's solo curtain call -- when she tried to get the
orchestra to stand, but they wouldn't.
But wait, there's more! Reception afterwards, much champagne, driving back on Saturday just before the
remnants of a hurricane were set to pass over -- we stopped at Whole Foods for staples on the way. And on
Sunday after the wind and rain was done, Beff had to leave early, and I raked 19 barrels of leaves. And
went to a student composers concert at Brandeis featuring several people from my piano concerto. But then
....
Yesterday was the recording session, in the Great Hall of Mechanics Hall in Worcester. 10-1 and 2-4:30. I
drove in fairly early to get all-day parking, and boy is Worcester a strange-looking town. At least the
downtown part. Definitely had its prime in about 1880. The good thing was getting parking within 2 blocks
of the gig for eight bucks for the whole day. And the recording went extremely well -- we were able to fix
everything that had tended to rush and boy did it sound hot! For lunch, I met Droolie at Spoodles on Main
Street (a lot of the orchestra had the same idea, as did Gil), and was reminded that technically she was my
supervisor at Black Achievers of the YMCA back in 1986-88. Wow. Now she's a lawyer, working
downtown on auto insurance stuff, and has a gorgeous big ol' house. And two kids. And she's not my
supervisor any more. But I still let her tell me what to do (for instance, "let's sit here" and "leave the plates
there"). I paid. After the orchestral part was done (we finished ten minutes early), Marilyn recorded the
cadenza in bits, and off we went. And there I was, carrying a toy piano down Main Street in Worcester. And
it's now situated back in our dining room. Whew. The review appeared today in the Globe and should
already be in my Reviews 4.
Meantime. I didn't learn my already learned lesson and still have grading to do today. Plus I have to go into
the 'Deis today for a rehearsal of "Disparate Measures", which the Lyds and Steve Drury are performing
Saturday (this Glamorous Being of a Classical Composer never ends), and on top of all that, Beff and I are
going to the BSO Friday night. Berg Violin Concerto! Mahler 9! We'll be there like forever! And what else
is up? Raking, raking, raking. Teaching, teaching, teaching (at least it's not counterpoint any more).
Chicago for Thanksgiving. This semester has, as usual, gone really fast and really slow at the same time.
Plus it looks like more willing myself into invisibility in the next few weeks. Oh yeah, and Linda Reichert
is doing a couple of etudes in Philly with Network for New Music this weekend, and I can't make it (raking,
Disparate Measures, etc.) But she's plugging the concert on YouTube -- see red "Linda Reichert" link up
there.
And pictures! Beff has the new little camera in Maine, so the dress rehersal pictures I have will have to wait
for the next update. But there are some RECORDING SESSION shots I took yesterday with the old Nikon.
What we have here is Slosberg Music Center -- first picture I took with the new camera -- backyard with
fewer leaves on trees, Cammy trying to be cute, the jerryrig of the muffler, Marilyn contextualized in the
gazebo, the recording session, the control room, and Marilyn at the recording session. Bye.
---------------------NOVEMBER 20. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, grapefruit juice (slightly
fizzy), and coffee. Lunch was Buffalo wings from Neighborhood Pizzeria. Dinner last night was a Red
Baron Deluxe Frozen Pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.7 and 64.8.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fourth movement of the Rakowski Piano
Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS iPod Touch, unknown. Christmas present for

Beff, tell you later. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One of my spare time leisure activities
when I was in fourth grade was drawing maps -- of states, the USA, and of the world. I had tons of them
discarded and lying around, as we had unlimited cardboard that my father had pilfered from his job at a
paper mill. At Christmastime, when it's time to give the suck-up gift to the teacher, my parents got me
something to give her (I didn't know in advance what it was) and used my discarded maps as padding
within the wrapping. Naturally, the teacher, upon unwrapping, was programmed to ooh and aah about how
nice the maps I'd drawn were. But she had a bigger surprise ahead of her -- the actual gift. I don't remember
what it was. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Sloosky. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF The
little ol' TMJ thing, Mass Pike traffic at 4 pm. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS anything with
hot sauce, salad with mini gourmet tomatoes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Facebook. And the wow 'em
every time interface of the iPod Touch. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS
TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Psycho cat still happens with Cammy early in the morning; for a time this morning,
Cammy was sleeping curled up right on my (exposed) elbow. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 12. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE I entered the New Yorker caption contest twice. (I stopped doing it when the New
Yorker started spamming me about it) WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: "Magic" is a four letter word. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,872. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.97 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $2.99 at the Gulf station near
Brandeis. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE a perfectly scaled small replica of the Empire State building that fits exactly in your nose,
a place where you put all of your wants and dreams, the end of a cigarette butt, the unbearable likeness (sic)
of being.
The last update came the day after Davy's Piano Concerto was recorded, and before Davy started referring
to himself in third person -- which is something I hope will stop soon. Oh, look -- it just did. I'm sure by
now most of you know I'm the glitzy Cover Boy of New Music Box for November, and it's got a video
presentation including me talking on it that I just can't watch. The sucker came out pretty well despite the
egregious TMJ I was having that day. TMJ aggravated by stress? Well, so they say. Although they stamped
the day of the interview wrong -- it wasn't September 10, but September 21. Put that in your pipe and see if
it sticks.
The piano concerto review was pretty good, though Joanne Kong's name was misspelled as Tong, and last
time I checked it was still misspelled on BMOP's reference to the review on its site. They have added the
program notes attached to the concert to the site, as well as the press release that calls me rock-influenced
and serial. This is like saying that a tree is tan-ish and has stuff inside whose name begins with an "x". But
that was a bad riff. I'll try again later, unless I don't.
The mundane business of getting back to teaching was what happened next, and the volume of homework
for me to grade naturally kicked back up a notch -- not as much as during species counterpoint, but a lot
still -- some time was saved by the fact that now some of the questions have only one answer and I don't
have to make judgment calls on the fly. To wit -- LAST Tuesday I began the grading around 9 am, and after
three or four homeworks I tended to go out and do some raking, then come back in and grade, repeat. I
finished the grading for that day at 3:30 pm, but I also managed more than ten barrels worth raked,
barreled, and discarded. I rule. Or, to put it in third person, Davy rules.
And while we are on the subject of the never-ending rake-a-thon -- on this most recent Sunday (no! Davy!
don't go all nonlinear on us!), Beff and I up and went out to do the immediate backyard all the way to the
rhubarb, and that we did. I also retrieved the lawnmower fromt the basement, where it had been put for the
season, started it, and mowed a swath near the apple tree where the grass was still growing and had gotten
too high for good a-rakin'. The backyard looked SO pristine after the Sunday rakingness that later in the
day when I spied two maple leaves in the yard, I went right out and took them away. And I also took a
picture. I stopped counting barrels raked after 20, but have kept an estimated tab -- I think we're up to about
95, meaning 5 or 10 remain, and those suckers are still on the trees. Grrrmph. It's the parking strip the the
west of the house, and a re-rake of the area in back of the garage that will remain. Fascinating.

And meanwhile, the Christmas shopping and Christmas GETTING season began. Beff had seen (and
probably heard, and maybe tripped on) me drooling over the iPod Touch (Beff didn't want one, preferring
instead to get the next generation iPhone when the Verizon contract is up next October), and she seemed to
have gotten one shipped from Amazon. And since we're going out of town soon (12 hours or so from when
this is posted), she gave it to me so I'd be able to web surf from any wi-fi spot while we're gone. I,
meanwhile, had almost completely forgotten that Beff had given me a Chicago Art Institute gift catalog
opened to a page with what she wanted -- it had gotten covered on the dining room table with various
programs and other stuff I had dropped there over several weeks. And I up and made the order, right away.
So I've carreid the iPod Touch around to various places, had a devil of a time getting it to stay connected to
the Brandeis wi-fi in Slosberg (the web page kept telling me to restart my computer, which strictly speaking
can't be done with the iPod Touch, but I outwitted it -- I chose a different wireless network, then went back
to the one I wanted anyway, and voila). Now I can do wireless in Slosberg, which is moot since I have a
computer anyway.
And I am now the proud owner of another toy piano -- this makes four. John Aylward had found one in
Arizona(!) to give me as a birthday present and to commemorate my piano concerto, and it finally got to
me a short while ago -- it's much smaller than the ones I already had, has a two and a half octave range, and
has a bigger sound than any of them. And currently it's on the computer table in the dining room -- we're
running out of space....
And also in the meantime, Don Berman has performed the two piano etudes I wrote for him around several
times, and I got a CD of the performances at Tufts from last month -- they are stunning (see green Dorian
Blue and Chase links to the left). Much nicer sounding than the premieres from last April, where the A 440
on the piano he had was pretty far out (of tune, that is -- not groovy), and very impeccably and exquisitely
phrased. Really. I mean, go and listen already.
The week after the concerto was Disparate Measures week, and that included hearing the Lydian Quartet
and Steve Drury in rehearsal at Slosberg and being available for the pre-concert talk on November 10, and
it all went swimmingly. Though I must say I wasn't too pleased with the piano they had to use. Talk about
brittle-sounding. There are piano issues at Slosberg right now that I won't get into, except to say that there
are piano issues at Slosberg right now that I won't get into, except to say that there are piano issues at
Slosberg right now that I won't get into.
And finally, in music theory 1 -- to continue this nonlinear narrative thing -- last week I got to introduce the
concept of chord progression, and what makes a succession a progression, etc. The Kostka-Payne textbook
we are using uses a complicated diagram that looks kind of like a circuit diagram of the inside of E.T.'s
head (an issue that I won't get into) that makes much more sense when explained. And as usual I used the
riding the sled down the mountain music from How the Grinch Stole Christmas as an example of melodic
sequence (something that reminds me that Beff thought the revised ending of Cerberus sounded like that
music, even though it doesn't). AND -- as usual, I am giving them advance warning that progressions like
root position ii followed by root position I don't work, and as usual I get the "why? It sounds good"
unanswerable question. I also told them to follow V with IV only when writing a blues tune, but sometimes
these references don't get absorbed.
And this reminds me. ONLY TWO WEEKS LEFT TO THE TERM. WOO FRIGGIN HOO (that was the
inside of my head talking there).
I sent Marilyn a bunch of my snaps from the concerto rehearsals that I'd put onto my computer, but as I said
last time, there were plenty still trapped on the card, in the camera, which Beff had taken to Maine. So I
sent her more, especially of the dress rehearsal in Jordan Hall, when the camera came back. I then got an email notification from Facebook.com: Marilyn Nonken has tagged you in a photo. And when I clicked on
the link, I got to see that a picture that Lisa Bielawa (hey Michael Torke -- hi! You are a great composer!)
had taken of Marilyn and me had been put into one of Marilyn's Facebook photo albums called "Caught in
the Act", and I was directed to register for YouTube if I wanted to see the rest. So I did, Oscar, I did. I'm
now on YouTube, a new world for which I had no expectations.

And then I started getting lists of other Facebook members with whom I might want to be friends. I clicked
on some of them (Marilyn, for instance, and Amy D, and Winston Choi, and Lisa Bielawa (hey Michael
Torke! Hi! You are a great composer!) and soon found myself with 5 or 6 friends. The next day teaching
Dave Guerette (the first composer for whom I'm using music by John Adams as a model, and I hope it
won't be the last), he noticed I had Facebook, and reveled in the fact that he had more friends. So I asked
myself -- is this what Facebook is for? Competing to get the most friends?
So suddenly I got invited to join the Facebook Toy Piano group, and the Hello My Name Is David Smooke
group (98 members), and I had a mailbox full of e-mails from Facebook telling me various people had
asked to be my friend, and ... then all hell broke loose. I uploaded pictures and a video to the Toy Piano
group, created a photo album with pictures of me, used a Simpsons avatar of me that Sarah Manguso had
done as my ID picture, got more and more friends who had just joined, and finally -- started getting friends
from colonies and not specifically from our composer music scene. And this is already way too much
detail. But I HAVE been posting on some peoples' walls (it's a Facebook thing) and enjoying changing my
"David Rakowski is...." setting fairly regularly. For a while I was on the cusp, and for another while I was
beside myself thus proving that you can live in five dimensions. And the nerdliness of this paragraph just
went off the charts.
Today I had coffee and conversation with Biljana, a pianist whose last name I have yet to memorized, who
is in the Ibis Camerata, doing recordings and concerts, and so on, and I gave her music and a recording.
And coffee. Always coffee. And for our rendezvous at the Boston Bean House in Maynard, the weather -predicted to be light rain showers -- turned into an accumulating snowfall. Less than an inch, I am sure, but
it's the first snow of the season, what it is, too, and what it is, too. It being a very wet snow, I am now
witnessing for the first time in the season the pine tree branches weighted down and slouching. Note to self:
only four months till the first crocuses.
And I am now on a Board with a five year term. I agreed to join the Board of the Barlow Endowment for
Music Composition (you may remember that my Cantina commission came from them), having been
recommended by the outgoing (in more ways than one) Mindy Wagner to take her place on that board.
Responsibilities include doing a four-day session in Utah every August at a ski resort to determine who gets
those commissions. Composers reading this -- don't get your hopes up. I am a very impartial juror for such
things, and usually recuse myself in the first round when the applicant is someone I taught.
Tomorrow we head for Chicago for Thanksgiving with Joe and Stacy in Evanston, and during that trip we
also plan on seeing Lee and Kate for beer and dinner at the Goose Island Brewery, and Amy D at her place
in Hyde Park for whatever it is we do there. And we also plan, for once, to be completely passive in the
construction of the Thanksgiving meal. I'll probably be playing with my iTouch (which I still type as
"iTough" before I catch myself, and what it is, too). We come back on Saturday. Oh yeah, last Friday
Dewek and I looked over his BMOP piece for content and orchestration, and I conned him into coming in
once while we're gone to check on the kitties. He will, Oscar, he will.
And after the weekend -- did I mention TWO WEEKS OF SCHOOL? Yeah, well, but three more meetings
with Miriam and Travis at NEC. Then maybe I'll finally get back to work on those Philis Levin (hi, Michael
-- you are a great composer!) songs.
I still do not have the good recording of the piano concerto performance, so in the green links on the left,
hear my Edirol dress rehearsal recordings, if you dare. And this week's pictures go all the way back to preconcerto and stretch to just a few hours ago. First two shots of after Marilyn's Brandeis colloquium (new
furniture in the hall!), Marilyn at the second rehearsal (what clue can YOU find that the colloquium was the
same day as the second rehearsal?) and then at the dress, the picture Marilyn put on Facebook, the toy
piano in my office next to the new one John A. got me, then three toy pianos and a pump organ in our
dining room, the pristine quality of the backyard after we raked it, and snow this morning on the gazebo!
Bye.
----------------------------------

DECEMBER 4. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, grapefruit juice, potato
pancakes, and coffee. Dinner last night was a can of Amy's Chunky Vegetable Soup with interwoven
crackers, and salad. Lunch was the chicken caesar wrap at Conor Larkin's near NEC. Lunch today will be a
Red Baron's Deep Dish Pizza, and what it is, too. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE
15.8 and 61.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Third movement of the
Rakowski Piano Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Christmas tree stand, $62;
Christmas tree, $35; airport parking, $64; secret Xmas present for Beff, $tell you later (actually, I won't -it's just an expression). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I used to work in the NEC Libary
(work study) and was considered responsible enough to close the place up at 6 on Fridays -- after which
often Jody Rockmaker and I would go to the Ground Round at the Pru. Inside the library enclosure was
also the electronic music studio, in the dungeon. One week I violated protocol and allowed someone
working on a project to keep using the studio after closing hours. The next Monday in the hall he thanked
me. I said, "for what?" And he said, "for Friday night". Which attacted a little bit of attention. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Soorpy. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Marking parallel fifths and
octaves, shoveling snow, yet more requests from students for extensions. RECENT GASTRONOMIC
OBSESSIONS anything with hot sauce, Inko's tea with key lime juice. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK
Frank Lloyd Wright's Oak Park studio. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 17 (we're outside
the box again this week). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They look cute using the litter
box, which is enclosed and a bit small for them. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 23. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE I
have a hat that reads "I Believe in Santa Claus". WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE
IN CHARGE: Free tomatoes for everybody. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,974. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.99 at Cumberland Farms, $3.09 at the nearby Mobil station. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a
seventh that resolves incorrectly to a ninth, the plastic tie on a bread bag, a missing page in my dictionary,
an unusual place to store your cigars.
Dear reader -- those low two figures of you -- are going to have to be unusually devoted to get through this
update. For you see, the events of the last fortnight don't lend themselves to interesting reading. So I will be
marshalling all the storytelling chops I have to help you make it through -- assuming that by using words
like "fortnight" and "marshalling" I haven't lost you already.
Very soon following the last update, Beff got back from her teaching mini-week in Maine and went to bed.
Then within an augenblick (have I lost you, dear reader?) the alarm went off, and it did so correctly, at 4 am
on the day before Thanksgiving. We showered and made sure everything was packed for our impending
plane ride to Chicago, drove bansheeishly to the airport (including an interesting scary moment as we
entered an unpaved (and unmarked) construction zone lacking pavement), parked in long-term parking -which is now walking distance instead of a bus ride from the terminals -- got our boarding passes (we had
no carry-on luggage), and got through security about 110 minutes in advance of our plane's departure.
Hmm, some Thanksgiving rush, huh? The plane was on time, Stacy picked us up, we ate brunch at a
Pancake House near her apartment, and we then landed in her place in Evanston. During the next interval,
we wowed 'em with the iPod Touch, took a brief walk to the lake (it is, indeed, a Great Lake) and back, and
then set off for Goose Island Brew Pub in Chicago, where we were to meet Lee Hyla and Kate Desjardins
for dinner.
Which we did, Oscar, we did. Despite the burden of holding two mortgages and a recently exploded
furnace, they love the living in Chicago thing, Lee says Northwestern is being supportive of composition,
and the location of their co-op is the "meatpacking district" -- apparently an area they are getting into pregentrification. Oddly, Lee and Kate invited us to the brewery but had wine and/or Maker's, and it seems as
though we all had something fried -- though I also had something pulled. On our way out, we got another
glimpse at our former Camry (which Lee calls the Rakmobile, but I think there's probably something wrong
with him), and back home we went in the light rain.
I delighted at spending Thanksgiving Day in a passive role -- Stacy and Joe did almost all the cooking, and
my only function was to surf the net on the 'Touch. My role came down to pulling the giblets out of the

turkey's butt and peeling the yams and potatoes. Okay, so I wasn't TOTALLY passive -- but their peeler was
so SHARP that I just had to play with it. Marc Geelhoed arrived to make a fivesome just as the turkey was
ready, and we ate a great meal. Everyone had thirds -- but before that they had seconds. I also discovered
that plain old cranberries make a nice snack. This may eventually turn into something. Dinner was followed
by the usual "I feel fat" recitations, a game of scrabble, picture taking, and passing around the old iPod
Touch. After Marc went back home, we continued to remark on how fat we felt.
Friday was a day given to relaxing, and then DRIVING and eating. Beff had reserved tickets online for us
for the tour of Frank Lloyd Wright's former studio in Oak Park, so there was the drive there. We got our
Christmas cards for the year at the gift shop, and I even bought a font -- kein merde. Our tour was led by a
volunteer investment banker, and got so detailed that the tour behind us caught up. And it ended in an
octagonal room that made us feel like we were inside a stop sign. Okay, I made that part up. We also saw
the play room that was called one of the most famous rooms in the world. I tried to get its autograph, but it
was having none of that.
After the tour was over, we were slated to go to Amy D's place in Hyde Park for dinner, and we were
appointed for 7. Problem was, it was 4:30 when we were done, and what else was there for us to do? It was
very cold out, and dark, and Stacy gave us a brief tour of one of the U of Chicago quadrangles, but it was
cold. So we planted ourselves at a Starbucks (where the 'Touch found a T-Mobile hot spot that wanted me
to pay actual money), and after making our hot chocolates last as long as possible, pleaded (on the phone)
with Amy to let us go there early. And so we did. And there she was! In her super-long condo, with cats,
piano, and huge kitchen! Making pizza for dinner! And that's when we found out that Trader Joe's clam
sauce doubles as an excellent pizza sauce. There was a huge pile of music on Amy's piano -- I think she's
carrying around about two and a half full programs of tough stuff in the spring, including the Davytudes 3.
Ranjith the cat was especially affectionate, and eventually Stacy's cat allergies kicked in. While at dinner
we passed around the 'Touch again, this time to watch various YouTube videos.
Coming back on Saturday was fairly noneventful except for the part about forgetting how to get to the longterm parking lot. The rest of the weekend was also fairly non-eventful, unless grading yet more theory
homework can be considered an event. All there was to report here was a little warning from Earthlink -my first ever -- that my allotted bandwidth for this very webpage was on the brink of being used up for the
month. Must have been because of the new music box thing. So I avoided coming to this location -- and,
I'm sure, dear reader, after you finish with this update, so will you.
In the meantime, I accumulated 43 friends on Facebook, and went there as a kind of respite in between
things I had to accomplish. I uploaded 23 pictures, 4 videos, joined the Strindberg and Helium group, etc.,
and changed my "David Rakowski is" several times. And I would occasionally see what Friends had
changed theirs to. And hey, Hayes finally got his indoor parking space, with a garage door opener and
everything. I added Fun Wall (which turned out not to be fun at all) and the Buffy group, and got nominated
for the Most Creative People thing, and every single one of these involved a pushy invitation to get all your
friends to join ("Here's a list of all your friends, and we've taken the liberty of checkboxing every one of
them for you"). Then on Sunday it seemed pointless. And I terminated my Facebook account. Bye bye.
Teaching has been pretty much as it has been, though I felt the need to make things a little more festive,
given how close to the end of the term we are. I made Monday into sunglasses day, Wednesday into Wear
Something Red Day, and Thursday into Hat Day. Teaching in a big winter hat that covers your ears was
fun. And last night I prepared the final exam for Mus 101 and boy are my arms tired. In addition to
teaching, I wrote a ton of recommendation letters -- both online and to be mailed (whoever it was that said
college faculty had lots of free time never encountered recommendation letter season).
Yesterday was a snowstorm -- actually a little of everything, more like a slop storm. The timing was such
that I kinda had to get out of bed at 5:30, shovel the driveway and walks -- with a 2-inch heavy
accumulation of freezing rain on top of sleet on top of snow -- and I was able to drive to the commuter rail
station in time to catch the 6:21 train. Oof. This car ride showed that Maynard plows its roads way later
than Acton does. I did my morning Brandeis teaching, and was able to take the (15 minutes late!) commuter
rail into Boston and do my NEC teaching. Miriam had cancelled, so it was only Travis, and I had time for a

brief lunch. Coming back, I experienced the Fitchburg Express -- seven cars completely packed, and no
stops between Porter and South Acton -- and had to scrape my windshield. The roads were good, and the
driveway was easy to get up -- but needed to be shoveled again. Oh, my back. But Beff has it worse in
Maine, where they got maybe a foot -- yesterday they cancelled classes at noon, and this morning anything
before 10.
Last Saturday (to skip around a lot) we also got taken to a nice seafood dinner in Marlborough by Big Mike
(ka-ching!). We had excellent seafood, and one of the most obsequious waiters yet encountered in this
lifetime. And cold it was. I had salmon,and Beff had tuna. And I had Pinot Grigio. And Big Mike (kaching!) paid.
Skipping back further still, Michael Lipsey (also known colloquially as "hand drum guy") gave his longexpected colloquium (known colloquiumally as "his colloquium"), playing hand drums, which was quite
entertaining and informative. He was coming to Brandeis with his niece, who was looking at the place,
anyway, and his daughter (who drew plenty of pictures on the blackboards and erased them, thus making
Slosberg 212 her own personal Etch-a-Sketch). I brought my new Flip Video Ultra WITH its little tripod to
record Michael playing some of the pieces, including the two of mine he recorded, and I'm hoping to get
them up onto YouTube (not Facebook, where they have already been and would now be inaccessible) once
he okays it.
On Friday I encountered downtown Lexington for the first time in my life -- and the Garmin Navigator got
me there excellently, since by looking at the Google Maps, I would have turned the wrong way. It's a less
sleepy version of downtown Concord, and I was there to meet Gil Rose at Not Your Average Joe's for
lunch, and discussion of this Rakowski Recording Project. Which we did. I also purchased another
Christmas present at Waldenbooks nearby, then came home. But the nice thing about this lunch was that,
four weeks after the event, I FINALLY got a recording of the performance of my piano concerto. See the
green links up there. I have been listening to it a lot, because otherwise I would have to do actual work.
And on Saturday in addition to writing my nearly two dozen recommendation letters, I went with Beff to
the Shaw's shopping center to get a Christmas tree. With the Subaru hatchback 4-wheel drive now in our
repertoire, we were able to get a tree that fit entirely inside the car, though it was a lopsided one. And we
brought it inside, put it in the regular tree stand and ... the tree stand broke. And the tree wouldn't stay up.
So I sent Beff to the hardware store for a new one, and she got the super-deluxe model that will withstand
Armageddon and cockroaches. And now the tree stands straight up. And we decorated it, but have spared
you, dear reader, seeing a picture of it. I put a couple of gifts under the tree, and on Sunday got more classy
wrapping paper from CVS, and we are ready for the holidays. If only that pesky teaching thing could get
out of the way ....
Now that Tan Dun is on the cover of New Music Box and not me, it is safe to visit this web page again. I'm
relegated to the archive, which suits me fine, and nobody's going to click on the "his zany web page" link
any more....
This morning at 7 (why did I appoint myself so early?) I got the yearly state inspection for my car at Acton
Toyota, where I also did a bunch of theory grading. Then, breakfast. And now, the update. Soon onto more
theory grading. We're easily into three figures now with the parallel fifths and octaves, going for the record.
Yesterday I told them that in addition to arpeggiative, cadential, passing, and pedal six-fours, there was the
Straussian six-four, and I played a YouTube video of the trio from the end of Rosenkavalier. The apathy
was palpable.
Coming up? Dentist, end of school year, faculty senate, resume work on Phillis Levin songs, and so on.
This week's pictures include Stacy in her kitchen (when your mother tells you your face is going to freeze
that way, believe her), the post-dinner picture, the taps at Goose Island brew pub, Kate and Lee, Joe and
Stacy with Amy D, the cats doing their glow eye thing, a bit of the Frank Lloyd Wright house, and the
gazebo and shed in the dark after the snowstorm. Bye.
------------------------------------

DECEMBER 19. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
Dinner last night was a can of Progresso chicken noodle soup. Lunch today was a Celeste frozen pizza,
heated up, single sized. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 1.9 and 44.8. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "My Airplane" by the Royal Guardsmen. LARGE
EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS New slip-on boots, $79, Land's End boots for both of us, c. $80,
new slippers for Davy, $49, snow removal $180 (not yet billed), a lovely evening in the Fairfield in in
South Portland for Beff, $80, the second half of the cost of the new kitchen window, $1882, other various
summer work,, $1770, final payment for BMOP Sound CD, $21,193. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: In the months before I entered college, I tried to learn as much music theory from books
as I could. Mr. Colburn gave me his college music theory texts, and I read through those, and in the early
summer (1976) during which time I was also working at Warner's, I purchased a copy of Leo Kraft's
Gradus in Burlington, and availed myself of the exercises (I later used the same text at Brandeis, but found
it fairly useless -- for you see, I am much more sophisticted now). One of the literature examples was the
opening of a piano sonata by Dello Joio that used a Gregorian chant as source melodic material, and I
learned as much of it as I could (I later bought the score in Boston). This led to many hours spent pouring
over Gregorian chants and doing a set of variations on one of them. I even arranged it for woodwind quintet
eventually (which now I know to be equivalent to telling someone you drew their picture on a carrot). I also
wrote many Hindemith-inspired "fugues" that summer, in case you were wondering. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: Plaisgow. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Grading, academia in general
(except the teaching part) RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS celery sticks dipped in hot sauce,
popsicles(!), lowfat Cabot cheddar cheese. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK sand is overpriced, but exactly
the right price when you need it right now. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 17 (we're
outside the box again this week). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions,
Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They are
befuddled by the large pile of snow just outside the computer room window, and like to stick their paws
into it and watch the little hole they make. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 19. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have
a t-shirt that has a musical setting of the phrase "I don't know how to say 'puddle' in Italian". WHAT THE
NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Frozen precipitation occurs only north of the
45th parallel. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,984. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $2.99 in Waltham, $2.97 at Cumberland Farms. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD
BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an old history of the Crimean war, triple
coupon savings night at Stop and Shop, the bell on a cat's collar, prehistoric wood shavings preserved in
amber.
So this update has become fortnightly, or in this case, fortnightly plus one-ly. Deal with it. In the last
FortnightPlusOne (c) what has generated the most conversation and disruption to the economy in this part
of the world has been the weather. Or as they say in Italy, il tempo. Or as they say in France, le temps. In
the last FortnightPlusOne (c) ago update, we got to see a night shot of the back yard with a dustage of snow
on it, and it was kind of pretty, and mostly harmless. That dustage actually happened after a bunch of
freezing rain and all that, so it was actually the icing on top of bad traveling. And bad traveling has
abounded.
Since then there have been three snowstorms spaced over the course of a week. The bookend storms were
slop storms with every kind of precipitation, and the one in the middle was a plain old snowstorm,
delivering ten fluffy inches. Last year at this time we were talking about global warming and how winter
was coming later every year (the first accumulating snow wasn't until late January), but this year it's been,
according to Them What Make, 7 to 10 degrees below normal. At least for the month of December.
Hmmph. So there was a weekend slop storm the Sunday/Monday after classes ended at Brandeis (by the
way: classes ended at Brandeis); there was the fast moving heavy snow of Thursday. And the weird snow to
sleet to freezing rain to rain to freezing rain storm of Sunday, leaving eight inches of the white stuff before
the slippery stuff started. Maynard Door and Window plows our driveway and shovels our walks in these
extreme fluff events, but on this last storm the front walk was neglected. So as it turned from freezing rain
to rain, I up and got outside before it got dark, shoved some gasoline into the snowblower, and marvelled

that it started after being dormant for ten months. The root word of dormant means to sleep. I edged the
driveway a little (I like it WIDE) and used its self-propelling feature to get me down the driveway, up the
road, and to the front walk, where I had a devil of a time getting it to chew through the plow schmutz and
into the sidewalk proper. But through monumental effort, and eventual maximum soreness to my wrists, I
made two passes of the front walk, and then returned to get the snow off the steps. Because it is what I do.
Way back a week earlier, I awakened to glisteningness of some freezing drizzle, and kicked myself for not
having gone to the Maynard depository of free sand ("PUBLIC SAND" says the sign on it), because
slipperyness abounded. So I VERY CAREFULLY moved the car down the driveway and then up Great
Road to Ace Hardware and bought three tubes of sand for $7 each (which would have been free the day
before), and then spread maybe $10 worth of snow melt and $5 worth of sand on the driveway and
walkways. I was to do this again a week later. ("I was to do" -- that's a complicated compound tense. I
wonder if it has a name).
In any case. In addition to extra shoveling and snowblowing, I also used the snow rake twice, on the garage
and mud room roofs, and once on the backyard shed roof, and twice I exited our bedroom with a shovel
onto the flat roof over the side porch in order to rid it of snowness. Because if it rains on top of all of that,
there's the remote possibility it will become heavy enough to stress, damage, or collapse the roof. And
through all of this, so far the gazebo has not flinched. In fact, I'm not sure how to get a gazebo to flinch, or
even to smile.
While we're on the weather, that day of the first slop storm I had decided to drive to West Concord and park
in a municipal lot and take a commuter rail into NEC to do my teaching there. It felt very cold, I parked,
and slipped all over the place on the sidewalks until I encountered the DUE TO INCLEMENT WEATHER
TRAINS ARE RUNNING 30 MIN LATE sign at the station, so I chanced it -- I drove to NEC,
encountering the last gasp of snow from that storm, had my Conor Larkins (chicken caesar wrap), and did
my teaching. Driving back was a breeze, and even getting up the driveway -- now that it had five dollars of
sand and ten dollars of snow melt on it -- was also easy.
Beff's time here on those weekends was nice and interesting, and of course in the latter case, cut short by
the both storms. She had to get in by Friday morning for a dentist appointment, but could not leave until
Thursday evening. The Thursday storm didn't even make it as far north as Bangor, so leaving was fine -but by the time she got to Portland, the roads weren't amenable to long-range travel. So she spied a Fairfield
Inn just off the highway and stayed there, and made it back to Maynard by 8 -- which means she left South
Portland by 6. And the Sunday slop storm meant she left on Saturday. And it was a doozy of a storm in
Bangor, and Beff had to do the snow removal herself, with the electric shovel whose extension cord is
precisely long enough to get her to the end of the driveway. On Friday and Saturday we took what walks
we could, but the new plenitude of snow made it hard to do our usual walking -- but we did stop at the
Outdoor Store to get me new boots (they don't sell the Salomons I currently wear any more, so I got
Merrell's, as well as new slippers because the old ones ... smelled....) and so forth and so on.
Meantime, my teaching at Brandeis finished, and oddly in the last week the TMJ thing seemed to get a little
more severe. It's been a non-issue since the end of classes, of course, but I made it okay through that last
week. And even though course evaluations are done online now (I even got three generic notifications from
the Provost that I had three "low compliance" classes), I treated the last day like the faculty suck up to
students day it used to be when evaluations were done in class on the last day, which included me buying
six dozen doughnuts, two gallons of orange juice, and cups. And serving them. And then, despite having a
syllabus that said I wouldn't do it, I accepted a large pile of overdue homework, and distributed a take home
final. I graded all 34 finals yesterday, did the last overdue homeworks this morning, calculated the grades,
and recorded them on line. I am free!
And Monday of this week, I did makeup lessons for Miriam and Travis, the former Leejay students that I
am teaching at NEC this year. Instead of me going in, they came out here, I picked them up at South Acton,
we did a group thing in front of a roaring fire (it was in our fireplace -- the fire, not the group thing), and
then went to dinner at the closer of the two Thai places. Then I took them to the 8:00 train back to
Boston,which was really the 8:27, thanks to the generic "inclement weather" excuse.

But was that everything? Nope. With Beff leaving early and the prospect of the slop storm last Sunday, I
finally extracted another buttstick, although I freely admit that nobody called it a buttstick except Ken
Ueno. But let me rewind a few weeks -- all the way back to when I still thought Facebook was cool (I was
so young and naive....).
Marilyn, flush with her success in my piano concerto (that modifying clause has nothing to do with what
will follow...), posted on my Facebook wall asking if I knew any piano pieces that used only one note. Not
just one pitch class used in several octaves, but one note. She had been asked this by a student, apparently
one trying to get a really easy dissertation topic. I said I knew none, but she should ask Frank Oteri (also
known as Franco Terry) and Ken Ueno. Ken said he knew of none, but Davy should write a one-note etude.
I replied "I don't go there", Ken said, "sounds like a buttstick!" and I replied, "I don't go there". So during
this most recent slop storm I decided to go there. So I wrote a substantial one note etude on Sunday and
Monday -- see yellow "Etude 82" link to the left -- and sent it to Marilyn and Ken with a dedication to them
both. Marilyn said she'd try to play it this spring, and Ken said he'd give it to his students to analyze. I
mentioned that it was interesting that he said I extracted a buttstick to write this piece, and now he wanted
his students to analyze it -- and I left open what the root word of "analyze" is.
There's also been plenty of listening with headphones to the performance recording of my piano concerto.
Apparently I like it. And the most common comment is that the first three minutes are masterfully paced.
Aw shucks, t'weren't nuthin'. Actually I got that comment twice. Other comments that I got only once
include "which way is the bathroom?" and "are you going to eat the rest of that sandwich?"
Oh yes, and after a little while I got Michael Lipsey's permission to post my Flip Video Ultra-recorded
performances at his Brandeis colloquium of two of the three hand drums pieces I wrote for him. They look
very cool. They sound better. Because it is what it is.
The Christmas tree still sucks water (while some people I know suck eggs), and it's dropping needles now.
Beff has wrapped a whole MESS o' presents for the many siblings who are scheduled to make appearances
on Christmas day. Plus she put together the usual collection of random giftiness for my own siblings. My
brother's package arrived, and it's the usual Dakin Farms (in Vergennes, Vermont) foodiness. Nothing from
my sister yet. But they BOTH got chatter stones, and I used some in my piano concerto, and what it is, too.
Also the bills arrived, finally, for all the work MD&W did in the summer -- the new kitchen window,
painting the bulkhead door, taking away the old shed, building a ramp for the new shed, and so forth and so
on. And the balance for the BMOP CD was the amount you see in the first paragraph -- all that money had
already been raised and was just sitting in an account earning diddly, and finally I paid the piper. And the
conductor. So now I get to resume work on my Phillis Levin Songs, which is important because finishing it
involves a payday. Not the candy bar, but some negotiable currency that can be used in exchange for goods
and services. Also I'm told that Merkin Hall got a payday from the NEA so that they can commission me to
write for their "classical players play jazz" series. More when details are finalized. Oh yes -- and sometime
in the next two summers I'll go to the Civitella Raineri foundation in Italy for five weeks.Schedule not yet
known, and it will be a break in my self-imposed moratorium on colony hopping.
Other things upcoming -- Christmas (the goose is getting fat), Wiemann siblings visit, and way on down the
line, Sex Songs in Philadelphia. And classes ramp back up the same day Sex Songs is premiered. I love
excuses not to teach. One of these days I'm going to use "I've got a hole in my heart. Can't teach." That was
funnier before I typed it. Okay, it wasn't. Also, a clipper moving through tonight, dropping 1 to 3 inches. Of
snow, they say.
Another thing to look forward to: next installment will be the YEAR IN PICTURES installment. Happy
happy joy joy.
I haven't taken too many pictures in the last FortnightPlusOne (c), so they are kind of redundant. At least
they were taken at different times, owing to various lawas of time and space. We begin with the obligatory
cute cat pictures, continue to the Christmas tree at night, and continue to the gazebo by day, then during the

last slop storm (SHINY snow!) and this morning. Gentle readers, do let me know if you need to see
pictures of cats using the litter box. Bye.
------------------------DECEMBER 31. Breakfast today was an egg and cheese and fake-bacon (Morningside Farms) and cheese
sandwich, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was stir fry chicken. Lunch yesterday was Chef Boyar-Dee spaghetti and meatballs for me and Progresso chicken pot pie soup for Beff (we ran out of drip cans,
so we sacrificed ourselves). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 20.5 and 52.7.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS of all things, the "Match Game" theme song.
LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS a couple of shops at Whole Foods, like about $140 and
$170, and that's about all I can think of. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the year or
year and a half I was in the Boy Scouts, our troop went on a winter jamboree somewhere in Winooski.
There was much snow, and we spent the whole day going from place to place accomplishing assigned tasks
-- the only one I remember is transmitting a message using semaphore flags. Our lunches were packed for
us by our parents and my mother made me a ham sandwich. Unbelievably, the older scouts told me that
bringing a ham sandwich was illegal, and I was forced to go into a forested area to eat, by myself. I was of
course livid (livid la vida loca) about this stupid rule, but my mother thought it was hilarious to be
excoriated for "illegal ham". THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Biffle-baffle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF Snow and shoveling snow. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS egg and cheese
sandwiches, various stripes of pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK how to renew a passport. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7 . REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy spent a
lot of Christmas Day sitting in a paper bag near the Christmas tree. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 13. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have two small old white ex-scars on my right arm from hitting the wood
stove when we lived in Spencer, Massachusetts. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE
IN CHARGE: Twelve is the new thirteen. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,017. WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.99 and $2.98 at Cumberland Farms. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a stale macaroon that nobody
wanted at Christmas dinner, a number '7' pool ball, a pair of mismatched chopsticks, the chord that was
poorly voice-led to.
The last update was a Fortnightly Plus One one, but since the copyright on that term is already taken
(apparently by Estonians), this one is a dozen days after the last one. Or, if I recall correctly, in Italian una
dozzina di giorni (c). This will be the only DozzinaDiGiorni (c) update, since I don't feel like actually
filling out the copyright form again.
And as usual, our top headlines are weather related. It's been about three years since I regularly tossed
around the phrase "Them What Make The Weather an Inexact Science", then abbreviated to Them What
Make (c), since for the last three years they've been rather good, even in this weirdly weathered part of the
world. But the last three weeks they have pretty much sucked big ones. Big, hairy, bulbous ones with
festering mold. For you see, you may remember that the last time I updated (DozzinaDiGiorni (c) ago), a
little clipper was about to pass by and we expected a dusting. Well, six inches of dust, as it turned out. This
made for more than two feet of snow on the ground out here, and there was so much of it that the sidewalk
plows couldn't plow -- all the driveways along the sidewalks had four- and five-foot piles of snow on them,
rather daunting for a little sidewalk plow that looks a little like a rock-burrowing machine from a science
fiction movie.
So for the week before Christmas, our walks downtown happened almost exclusively on the streets. Which
of course was not all that safe for all concerned. But it was exercise. And during that week before
Christmas, Beff had her juries to attend and meetings to go to, and a slight bit of transfer of power. We are
BOTH on our respective faculty senates, but Beff hasn't figured out the invisibility ray for whenever
someone asks for volunteers. As President Pro Tem of her senate, she has plenty of meetings to go to in
January and February, which will definitely make Jack a Dull Boy. And don't call me Shirley. So she got
back the Friday before Christmas. At that time, with our six-foot high pile of snow bordering the driveway

and the back yard and all the big snowdrifts making it hard to see traffic when coming out of the driveway
-- there was a big rainstorm and suddenly high temperatures forecast for the Sunday before Christmas.
Great to get rid of snow, not so great with all the snow on roofs and so on, which had accumulated
significant ice dams (there were big long icicles extending from the roof and crawling down the side of the
house onto all our north, south, and east-facing windows -- a syndrome observed on nearly every house
between here and downtown), and with all that snow and all that rain coming, it behooved me to get out the
snow rake, rake the garage and mud room roofs, and (sigh) get out onto the side porch (flat) roof and
shovel. And I did, Oscar, I did.
Now having a slate roof like we do (replacement cost: $80,000, but not till about the year 2050), typically
snow slides off it in big chunks, fairly soon after the snowstorms, making big WHOOMP sounds when it
warms up. The south-facing roof did so by the Sunday before Christmas. The other roofs, though, not
facing the sun, took their sweet time -- and two nights after Christmas, while it was dark and above
freezing, we were treated with big huge whoomps on the north-facing roof. Joy of joys. So to get back to
the original story -- on that Sunday, with a high of 48 forecast, it only got up to 38 during the day, then
went down to 35 at dark. Then it started to rain, and the temp went straight up to 52 at 11 at night! And
lucky us, the basement did not flood.
But back to Them What Make. After a week's respite from the snow, and warmer temperatures, and some
actual sunshine, the forecast for last night was snow showers. Then suddenly yesterday morning on the
weather page we encountered HEAVY SNOW WARNING and WINTER STORM WATCH. Crap.
Practically in real time the forecast for last night and this morning went from trace to an inch to 2-4 inches
to 4-6 inches to 5-9 incheas and then to 3-5 inches. This morning we got up and shoveled some heavy wet
snow. Amount: about an inch and a half. But HEAVY. And WET. Hence the term "heavy wet snow". As I
type this there is no longer a Winter Storm Watch for tomorrow, but more snow forecast, amounting to 2-4
inches. More shoveling for us. Of course since both Beff and I are here in Maynard for vacation, we take
our daily walks, normally the long one along the Assabet bridge by the nature preserve, and the part along
the old railroad tracks has been excitingly slippery. And on one of our walks, we noticed that there is now a
pothole in the driveway near the bottom. Sigh. But -- finally enough snow melted so that I could avail
myself of some Public Sand. And I did!
So in addition to being aggravated with Them What make -- we had Christmas. Beff's sister and nephew
got here the day before, and as usual, brought a big pile of food, much of it junk, and much of it usurping
what would normally be called "counter space". On Christmas day itself, Beff's three brothers came
together, one of them with a huge aluminum cooler of beer -- which, as it turned out, was redundant.
Presents were exchanged, and some large-denomination bills substituted as actual gifts here and there, and I
got an ANALOG thermometer (I think I'll install it on the gazebo in the spring). And Beff's sister (whom
we will call "Ann" because that is her name) cooked a roast beef with potatoes, we all ate too much, and
then the day was over. Ann and her son Jack went to England on the 27th for a vacation and are expected
back tomorrow night. With British stuff in hand.
And also on the 27th, Beff repacked all the Christmas ornaments and stuff, and I dragged the tree -- poor
old tree -- out the front door into the discard pile near where we put the raked leaves. Doing it in a foot and
a half of snow is pretty durn tiring if you ask me, and yes, I know you didn't. So with the holidays finally
over, we both got down to work on those compositional things that have been on hold for so long. And the
third of maybe five or six Phillis Levin settings -- begun at Yaddo in June -- was finally finished, after
kicking the butt of me for so long. Immediately I started work on the fourth one, called "In Praise of
Particles". See the "On Time" yellow link on the left for that one. Both are, as they say in the biz,
appallingly difficult.
So "Sex Songs" is coming up in Philadelphia, and I will be staying in a hotel for it. And missing my first
two days of classes (three if you count NEC, and who wouldn't?). It turns out that Network for New Music
is being presented as an event of the Philadelphia Orchestra, so there are multifarious references to the
event online. And I'll be getting there Monday, a week before MLK Day, and coming back Thursday of that
week. That weekend Beff has to stay in Bangor (President Pro Tem, and a concert), so she will be bringing
the cats with her to Maine. Oh joy on that. And meanwhile, the Sex Songs had been finished in early 2005,

at which time I e-mailed and wrote to the estate of Edna St. Vincent Millay requesting rights for the Millay
poem I set. It only very recently occurred to me that they never responded. So with Stacy's help (she's set a
lot of Millay for chorus), I actually called the literary executor to fax a request and got the executor herself
-- who asked me to send the request by snail mail, and quite soon I got a letter granting the rights. And
Peters thus could take the songs -- since they already own the rights to one of the four Sex Songs (The
Gardener).
I also took the opportunity to send Etudes Book VIII (they use Roman numerals as if I were writing Super
Bowls -- what can I say?), so it was a print-a-thon here and a post-office-a-thon as well. And hey, during
one of my walks to the post office I decided to get my fecal matter together, get a passport renewal
application, and truck 200 feet further to CVS to get passport photos taken. Mostly because my passport
expires July 8, at which time I may just be in Italy. And I may just not.
So ... tonight's dinner is Florentine chicken from Whole Foods. Beat that! I have begun work on "In Praise
of Particles" and have chosen another poem for after that, and have the overall texture envisioned (or
enimagined), so I have plenty to keep me busy until my sojourn Philadelphiawards. I will, today, be setting
the word "jit" for the first time in my life. If it is, indeed, a word.
So since this is a last day of the year posting, I'll do what everybody else does, and recap my year in greatly
abridged fashion.
JAN spent New Years Day in Borth with Martler and Cora and Beff. Took train to Glasgow, saw stuff, ate
stuff. Took train to London, saw stuff, had great Chinese food. Came back. Wrote "Clave" for Geoff, etude
76. Started teaching semester.
FEB spent vacation in Bangor with Beff and cats while the pantry was converted to a half bath; they also
replaced basement windows. Conversion took until March. New fridge with ice maker! Bought lots of
kitchen stuff for Bangor house at Target, since Beff doesn't cook so much as heat up.
MAR met Adam Marks to hear him and video him doing "Not", corresponded with Rick Moody (who
wrote the words) about it. Adam did it in Paris along with Absofunkinlutely and Rick's Mood.
APRIL had 10-day Passover vacation and strange late winter weather, snow covering the crocuses, etc.
Took several hikes in the woods nearby. Wrote three etudes (Ecco Eco, Upon Reflection, Narcissitude), for
Corey Hamm and Mike Kirkendoll during vacation. Took down the big wooden fence encircling the
backyard and tossed the pieces in leaf-discardville. Finished teaching season.
MAY went to MacDowell on the 4th, returned several times to Brandeis for various stuff, including Eric
Chasalow's oratorio -- whose conductor made a point of telling me he wanted to do TEN OF A KIND one
day. At MacDowell, wrote three movements of "Cantina" for wind ensemble. Auditioned 8- to 14-year-olds
for Anna Schuleit's Landlines for me to mentor, chose Karissa Vincent. Bought Flip Video. Posted a bunch
of etude movies on UToob, and 14 post-dinner Mary Worths from MacDowell. Back porch floor was
replaced.
JUNE went to Yaddo, finished Cantina (needed to write a March). Swatted 300 flies. Wrote etude 80,
Fireworks. Started Phillis Levin songs, finished two. Drove from Yaddo to MacDowell, first session with
Karissa. Drove back.
JULY drove to Vermont for July 4, first time in Vermont place with Beff. Back to Yaddo, started "On
Time". Back home, new shed was installed. Made several trips to New Hampshire to mentor Karissa.
AUGUST spent at summer place in Vermont. Wrote ten bars, but no more, of "On Time". Entertained
Carolyn and Big Mike (the ka-ching twins of old) and Ken and Hillary and Gusty and others. Took daily
bike rides on nearby rail trail. Went to Landlines at MacDowell on our wedding anniversary. While we are
gone the kitchen window gets replaced, the bulkhead gets painted, and a ramp to the shed starts getting
built. Started fall semester.

SEPTEMBER teaching overload at Brandeis, three, no, two students at NEC. Very heavy schedule, lots and
lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of grading. Gazebo arrives, and we use it. Sleep half the night in it a
few times. Wrote etude 81, Kai'n Variation, on a theme by Kai Schumacher, at his request. Went to NYC for
MacDowell reunion and horn concerto performance.
OCTOBER more teaching, double overload, etc. Midst avalanche of species counterpoint grading one
Tuesday, experience major burnout. Sigh. Slow recovery aided and abetted by piano concerto rehearsals
which begin at the end of the month.
NOVEMBER more teaching. Piano concerto premiere, five curtain calls. Go to Chicago for Thanksgiving
with Stacy and Joe. See Amy. Use iPod Touch a lot. Rake, rake, rake, rake. Fantasize about cutting down
the apple tree, which dropped eight barrels of apples that became rotten. Sony camera damaged by ice tea
spill, new one purchased.
DECEMBER semester over. "On Time" finished. More to come. Record amount of December snowfall,
lots of shoveling and snow trudging. Gazebo becomes the idee fixe of the winter's photographic story.
Wrote etude 82 on one note (F This) and dedicated to Marilyn Nonken and Ken Ueno (or, to Ken and the
Non-Ken).
And for tonight, Beff has secured a bottle of sparkling rose for us to ring in the New Year. Every December
31 around 7 or 8 I get a fax from Klaus in Duesseldorf wishing me a happy new year, adding "we have it
and you don't". Tomorrow, we begin an even-numbered year for the first time in about 730 days. Because
we deserve it. I doubt we will stay up to ring in the Eastern Standard Time New Year, but we might make it
to the Canary Islands.
And now the Year in Pictures. The successive months go left-right-left-right except for December, which is
under November. JAN Martler in London posing with a statue. FEB the pantry after it's been knocked
about, and pre-half bath. MAR a bit of the Assabet after a freak mid-month snowstorm. APR the old fence
now no longer a fence. MAY my MacDowell studio. JUN me holding the key to the Tower studio at Yaddo.
JUL the new shed going up in the back yard. AUG a sunset in Vermont -- there were many gorgeous one.
SEPT Beff in the just-installed gazebo. OCT foliage reflected in the new kitchen window. NOV Marilyn
Nonken practicing before the piano concerto recording session in Worcester. DEC the backyard in the too
much snow we've had this month.
I would say Happy New Year, but I'm not that guy. So Buon Anno.
====================

2008
JANUARY 9. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was
a hot and sour soup made from a powdered mix. Dinner last night was Progresso turkey noodle soup.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE -1.3 and 62.4 (possibly the largest differential in
the history of this update). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS slow movement of
the Rakowski piano concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE DAYS the cost of a passport, $67,
lunch at Not Your Average Joe's in Lexington, $47, copying at Staples, $86. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: I played basketball, on teams, from fifth grade to part of my tenth grade year. In
elementary school, especially seventh and eighth grade, the coach gave me the nickname "Rake".
Apparently he'd had a college roommate named John Rakowski whom he called Rake, and this was what
we call transference. I was normally the starting center(!) because I could jump well, and for maybe a
month I had a good hook shot. Band and drama, plus the fact that the same coach from elementary school
was now coaching in high school, and thus I was getting called "Rake", pulled me out of basketball into
less remunerative pursuits. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sarroyalage. THINGS I HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF the way TV news covered the Iowa caucuses and New Hampshire primary. RECENT

GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS pitted cajun olives, and we're back on Inko's. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK the passport backlog no longer exists. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4 .
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I
GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: with the warm weather and the chaise lounge
mattresses on the side porch, the cats have been having a ball. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE As Beff often notes to friends, there are always at least four kinds of pickles,
all in significant quantities, in the house. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Global warming is more than a sometime thing. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,019.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.05 in Acton. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a prime number that can be drawn
only with straight lines, the squeaky sound a shopping cart makes after it's been outdoors for a while, the
negative space in a work of art, a pet rock.
Only nine days since the last update, AND I'm doing it later in the day (it's already dark, but who's
counting?), so something must be up. Or, as Josh Skaller always used to say, "Up?" Or as Jason Uechi is
about to say, "Josh, why did you always say, 'Up?'" Yes, something is up, for you see, I have finished a
piece that's been biting my butt for more than six months now. And I did make mention of this piece in the
last update, and that seems so long ago now in the history of the piece. Arrr! It was last year!
But first, some details and stuff. We did manage to stay up -- well, technically, we stayed awake -- until
midnight on New Year's eve, though we went bedwards a little shy of 2008. Though all our European
friends were already firmly ensconced in 2008. We heard fireworks around 12:10 am, and that prompted
the not-unexpected comment from me: "Hmm. Fireworks." Then we spent New Years Day aching for
pierogis and salty soup and so on ... yes, the Lee Hyla New Years Day bash was not happening! At least not
in Boston, but possibly in Chicago, where he lives now. Past New Years Day parties of his I remember for
having a motley cast of characters -- not least a composer of cabaret songs who played us as best he could
to reveal the names and contact information of performers that would be interested in them. And also at a
New Years Day bash I discovered SMAK pickles. Of which I've been deprived now for three or four years,
alas and alack. Are you following this? Are you taking notes?
The Them What Make saga continued around New Years Day, because as you may recall, Them What
Make filled the airwaves with a Heavy Snow Warning and then a Winter Storm warning, the second of
which was to coincide with Ann and Jack (my sister-in-law and nephew) returning from England. Those
two dire storms each dumped an inch and a half at most. And Ann and Jack had no problem getting here at
the end of New Years Day, in the dark. Pictures and little videos (we gave them my old Flip Video, for you
see, I have a Flip Video Ultra now) were shown, and when they went back to Albany, we made them take
the steak sauces and other counter space usurpers with them. And I had my kitchen back. Not that there's
anything wrong with that.
And then by January 3 it was time to hit my stride. I had finished "On Time", the Phillis Levin setting that
had tormented me for so long (if not having time to finish it qualifies as tormenting). And in the new year, I
did two more settings to FINISH THE WHOLE PIECE (yippee and rastarattinfrattin!) -- an extremely fast
scherzo setting of "In Praise of Particles" and a sort of flowing and long-term rising setting of "Promise".
The reason for the long-term rise in register, you see, is to give palpability to the poem's central metaphor
of planting a tree (which grows and gets higher -- get it?). One has to wonder if palpability is anything like
Wessonality, and if anyone reading this is old enough to remember the old Wesson oil commercials that
used the slogan, or even worse, if anyone has read this far into this sentence. I sure didn't.
So the piece was finished yesterday and I spent a lot of the day finalizing the poem order, writing the
inside-the-score text, typing the poems and proofreading, and all. And of course I let Judy (who will sing
them) and Phillis (who wrote the poems) know that the piece was finished. I gave the piece the unsurprising
title "Phillis Levin Songs", a title that won't need much splainin. Or at least I hope it won't. See the yellow
link to the left and below. Meanwhile, all the other links there are as they were, and what it is, too.
In evenings, during the rather cold weather of the first week of the new year, we watched all of the second

season of EXTRAS and half of the first season, which we both thought was very funny. Funny enough that
Beff ordered the complete series, including the more recent Christmas special, on DVD. Well, she preordered it. We'll have it in due time. And while I've been cranking on songs, Beff has been writing a piece
for alto sax and wind ensemble, to be titled "Sax and Spend". Yes, the title was one we came up with
together after a long walk, etc., etc. that we took in downtown Lexington on Saturday, just for the heckofit.
There were a couple of days where not much work got done, though -- I took Big Mike into Boston for an
appointment, but it turns out I got a full day's work done around that appointment. And then on the coldest
day of the year BY FAR we went into Boston for an appointment, to see the new waterfront Institute of
Contemporary Art, and to try the nearby "test kitchen" of Legal Seafoods, mainly because Beff got a Legal
Seafoods gift certificate for Christmas. Of all things, I got fish and chips (how plebian). So the new ICA is
gorgeous, and there's a hallway you pass through with a big panorama of the water and bits of the islands
and East Boston. The collection itself is ... is ... shall we say incomplete. And it's weird that such a giant
building devotes maybe a fifth of its size to displaying art.
The high for that day was 12, so walking around Boston, especially near the water, was something to be
done as little as possible. So we got a CAB from our downtown appointment (it would have been a 12minute walk), and the walk to the restaurant from the ICA was pretty short. And the walk to South Station
after our (very early) dinner was quite taxing. Because you see, as I've been saying all along, it was really
cold. We made the 5:40 Fitchburg train, which we took to West Concord where we'd parked.
Now I brought the iPod Touch on this trip, 'cause Beff had the idea of getting wireless and browsing during
down time. And I actually answered e-mails in the restaurant, which (duh) had free wi-fi. Most of the emails I sent said something like "in a restaubant using ipod touch, tuping w one fingr, get bacj to yoi latr."
In the "Tools" of the iPod, you can see all the wi-fi networks it detects (this is how you join a network to
surf), and for some reason I got fascinated on the train just watching the list of available networks change
rapidly as the train moved. Incidentally, the "Free Wi-Fi" that the train apparently gives you did not work.
Iowa and New Hampshire happened, and we watched some of the political coverage, and for the first time
in years actually had something of a conversation about politics. Of course we're not into any of the
Republicans (we are especially repulsed by Romney), but one of us ends up being for Obama, one of us for
Clinton. I'll not say right now who likes which. One of us would say Clinton feels entitled and is too
beholden to special interests to make any real difference, one of us would say Obama gives a good speech
but he's an empty suit with not enough experience to know how to back up his ideas. While one would also
say Obama is an extremely inspirational speaker who is attracting new voters in droves and one would say
Clinton may not give a great stump speech but she knows how to get things done. So we let it stand at that.
Always stay away from politics when the idea is to have a pleasant conversation.
And then -- Them What Make got this part right -- it got really warm here, into the 60s, right on schedule,
as Them What Make had been predicting for many days. The snow has been melting pretty fast, and all the
roofs are currently free of snow (even the gazebo!), and large patches of back yard are now bare. Of course,
it's still a foot deep in the shadier places. But the January thaw thing has been good for morale here.
Beff is in Bangor for three or four days, expected back in the dark tomorrow. Rehearsals, etc., and making
sure the much snow in Bangor (when we got an inch and a half, they got a foot, and when we got another
inch and a half they got about half a foot) is manageable and isn't making the house fall down. So of course
the Maynard place is slowly becoming a pigsty, as is its wont. Only other thing to report is that my new
passport already arrived -- it took only a week from when I mailed the application for me to get my new
one. So that backlog of passports thing you may have read about -- old news.
So a while ago -- last spring, I think -- when Beff's dad's condo got sold and they had to empty it, Beff
rented a van and brought a bunch of furniture her brother Jim wanted for his place in Nantucket. Some
plush chairs have been clogging up space in the side porch for quite a while, plus a small table and some
other chairs have been in the attic. Today Jim finally came and took them off our hands and -- it's really
sunny on the side porch now! And we're also storing the chaise lounges from the gazebo (on their sides)
there along with the cushions, which are now near the outside door to the side porch, which gets direct sun

in the afternoon and ... Sunny really likes sleeping there now. And I took a nice 4-minute nap there, too,
shortly after the sun came out today. Of course it's going to get progressively colder, and there is some
snow forecast right for when I plan to drive to Philadelphia (I'm going to drive to Philadelphia). I may be
staying with Hayes and Susan in Bronxville the night before if Them What Make are actually right.
After Jim left, I went to Staples to get piano concerto copies made, and to Trader Joe's for tasty delights.
And both yesterday and today I did a lot of walking in the outdoors. For you see, it was warm.
So --- exactly a week from today, SEX SONGS is premiered in Philly. This would supply the metanarrative for why I am going there. There are afternoon rehearsals on Monday and Tuesday, and the concert
is Wednesday. I drive back on Thursday. I am supposed to teach both Wednesday and Thursday, as school
begins around then, but I've got that covered. I like it when that happens. Anyway, Soozie is singing, Jan
Krzywicki (buy a vowel!) is conducting, and Network for New Music is performing. Soon I'll see how it's
going.
Meanwhile, Marilyn (the non-Ken) is doing the one-note etude as an encore on her two mid-February
shows (she's already done that intense performer questioning about extremely specific things thing about
the score), and she's also doing a piece of Beff's in the actual program. I may not be at either, but Beff will
be at at least one -- at which time, by the way, she'll meet with our accountant. Who will have another big
job for him this year.
And then, and then .... well, school will start to devour my time and eat away at my soul, and it'll get a lot
colder, but at least the days will be getting longer, and the sun will get higher in the sky, and the crocuses
will come out in about 65 days and I'll take pictures and put the Adirondack chairs out and it'll snow on
them and I'll take pictures and that will all melt and I'll put the picnic table and chairs out and the chaise
lounges into the gazebo and I'll take pictures of that and I'll get spring fever big time but not able to act on
it because our Passover vacation is so late this year, and I'll go to Dallas for some of it and perfect the art of
the run-on sentence.
This week's pictures include the cats enjoying the new configuration of the side porch, the 3 mechanical
birds we have next to the front door (if you turn them on, they chirp when you walk by. what will they
think of next?), a big hunk o' snow fixin' to drop wholesale off the roof by the dormer, the local dam about
5 days ago, a picture taken this afternoon in the back yard showing bits of yard becoming bare, and a
picture of the Assabet taken today showing a reflection of the sky on a bunch of melted Assabet ice (which
some people call "water"). Yowza.
Call me Martler
--------------------------JANUARY 21. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner
was hot and sour soup made from a packet. Lunch was a small Flatbread Pizza, "Ionian Awakening".
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 9.9 and 52.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the fourth of Rakowski's Sex Songs. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE
DAYS hotel in Philadelphia, four days, $570. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:The first
piece I wrote (as detailed in various bios in various other places) was a 7-minute amalgam of all the band
music I'd played in all-State and all-New England. I wrote it in five or six days during my February
vacation in my junior year of high school (1975). It was written to win the Vermont all-State composition
contest, and it lost. I didn't want the judges to think it was my first piece, so I gave it an opus number of 3 (I
continued with opus numbers into the first semester of college, and made it to 30). My Opus 4 was for
soprano and band, was called "Pain" and specified a chord to repeat 147 times, each time with the soprano
singing the word "Ouch" on a high G (the chord was A-flat major 13 sharp 11, if I recall). I copied the parts
to Opus 3 while on the bus for an exchange concert trip with a high school in Ottawa, and on June 1, 1975
it was my first public performance. I conducted, and sometimes I got redundant -- while conducting a four
pattern I also occasionally mouthed the words "one, two, three four". There were two twelve-note chords in
the piece, which happened consecutively, moving down by half step, in the middle of a big tutti melody.
And also as detailed in other places, the third clarinetists -- every one of them -- were drunk. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sklunk. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF not watching The Daily

Show; New England weather; political commentary; hyperbole about the New England Patriots. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS a wide variety of picklage, fizzy citrus drinks. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.73 .
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions, Bio, Home, Reviews 4. NUMBER
OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: they're in Maine! and Sunny
spends most of the day under the bedcovers or staring at the stove. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWELVE DAYS: 8. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I often clap with one hand. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The word "abbreviation" doesn't have so many letters. PHOTOS
IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,020. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.97 in New Jersey,
$2.97 in New Jersey, and $3.12 at the Mobil station in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the ash part of the end of a cigarette
butt that's about to fall off, ten ways to flatten your stomach, the little dab of goat cheese one of the party
guests didn't eat, a flashlight stuck in a sewer grate.
So I was talking to Martler yesterday -- I was in Massachusetts (still am) and he was in England (still is),
and he told me he'd just had a big premiere -- his piano concerto, with him as soloist, with the local
orchestra. And so I said, "you only had ONE premiere this week?"
It turns out that last week I joined Jennifer Higdon (a surpassingly nice person) in the multiple premieres
club. This won't happen again for some time, unless each piano etude counts as a separate premiere.
Actually, now that I think of it -- March 1 and 2, it's Cantina and Clave, not in that order. My c-word week.
But I digress. And I'm afraid I'm going to have to continue to do so.
Last time I reported here, I said I had just finished a big piece. I was wrong. Not about it being big, but
about finishing it. While I was out of town (more on that to come), I started thinking about the first line of
another Phillis Levin poem called "Letter to the Snow", which is simply, "Why aren't you here?" For some
reason, the contour of one of the lines of my first atonal piece (or contextually tonal, as it were) for voice
and piano came to mind. It was a setting of Marge Piercy's "Quiet Fog" and the line was "Why am I
happy?" Four notes going down, and one going up, for the last syllable. I replicated that contour in my
mind for the Phillis Levin line, and when I got back, I did a very sparse setting of Phillis's poem. This
jacked up the duration of the set to 19 minutes, and the page count to 57. Then I had to decide where to put
it in the performance order, and I put it fifth, just after the wacky song "In Praise of Particles." Felicitously,
Particles ends on a sustained D for the soprano, and Letter to the Snow begins unaccompanied on that same
D. Really, you had to be there. See the green "The Quiet Fog" link for the performance of this piece of 1976
juvenilia. The Phillis Levin songs link is updated to its current version.
Now there's some shop talk for you.
And since the last update, the cats have been carted, with Beff, to Maine. The reason for that was my trip to
Philadelphia (details coming up) and the unavailability of cat sitters. On the day Beff went to Maine with
them -- Sunday morning the 13th, we did our usual thing of closing off the living room so the cats wouldn't
settle themselves under the couch, but now they know when we do that they're going to be in a cat carrier
for a while. So Cammy hid under the bed upstairs, and Sunny positioned himself inside the pump organ.
Sigh, I had to take all the stuff off it, move it out, and lift it up so Beff could get him out. But they made it
to Maine, they stare at the stove a lot, and they're coming back to Massachusetts on Friday.
And on Saturday the 12th, the Maynard Door and Window people came by to price out some new storm
windows for the master bedroom and the mail/fax alcove downstairs. Indeed, downstairs there are three
narrow windows that were hermetically sealed and painted shut by some clueless previous owner, and last
August and September Beff was noticing how stuffy it always got in that part of the house. So we're gonna
replace the windows. Turns out it's $167.70 per window, installation included, and there are three of them.
And two in the master bedroom. Do the math.
My plan for Philadelphia was to drive there on Monday the 14th, go to rehearsals on the 14th and 15th and
the performance on the 16th, and drive back the 17th. It was just my luck that a sloppy snowstorm got

predicted for the evening of the 13th and morning of the 14th, so I up and called Hayes to see if I could
drive to Bronxville on Sunday, stay overnight, and drive to Philly from there on Monday. He said okay. But
then Them What Make put in a Winter Storm Watch for Bronxville, too (4-6 inches), so I up and drove all
the way to Philadelphia on Sunday, making my hotel reservation while on Route 290 just east of Worcester.
With the extra day in a hotel, and even with my AAA discount, the hotel and parking (only $10 a night!)
exceeded my reimbursement by about 20 bucks.
And then of course, the storm brought only rain to Philly and virtually nothing to Bronxville.
So I left at about 11:25 am on Sunday and arrived in Philly around 4:15 or 4:25. I used the Garmin GPS
thing to get me to the hotel, and it was a little comical that even after I took its turning suggestions it kept
saying "recalculating" ... and the shape of the path I drove from the Benjamin Franklin Bridge to the hotel
resembled the outline of that digital Aqua Teen Hunger Force character. But I made it, I parked -- it was my
first time in Central City in Philadelphia since 1980 -- and found a lovely pub nearby with 21 beers on tap
where I watched the Giants-Colts game. The pub also advertised that it had the BEST WINGS IN PHILLY,
which I tried -- the wings were not separated (they were three-segmented) but they were good. I would put
them in the top 75 percent of all the wings I've ever had. The hotel had iffy wi-fi, but it worked, so I could
do my e-mail, and I could inform my theory class that I would miss the first two (they were covered) and in
which room we were meeting and where they could get the syllabus.
The big event was Susan Narucki singing the Sex Songs I wrote for her during the Year of Great
Excitement at Brandeis (I was definitely medicated) getting their premiere with Network for New Music,
and Jan Krzywicki (buy a vowel!) conducting. Soozie had alerted me to the fact that they were starting
before the time that they'd told me, so I nonchalantly got into the auditorium in the Kimmel Center -- with
fantastic acoustics -- and heard some music I'd never heard before (duh, but I wroted it) and a velvety
smooth clarinet sound that was amazing. I commented on the velvety smooth clarinet sound and apparently
I made an impression. The ensemble worked on ensemble and balance, and it took a bit to get the
somewhat ambitious instrumental writing soft enough so Soozie could be expressive, but they did. And
when they got to the last song -- a rock and roll, Jerry Lee Lewis inspired one, they ran it at quarter 120 and
worked on it, and then tried it up to tempo -- quarter 160-168. And it smoked. And it turned out to have bebop in it, too.
After the rehearsal, I went with Soozie and Jan and Susan Nowicki -- Jan's wife AND the pianist in my
piece -- to Jan and Susan's house for dinner, stopping at Whole Paycheck along the way for provisions. I
played with their cats a bit, showed my pictures on my iPod Touch, and had an amazing spicy chicken with
penne that Soozie cooked. Jan brought out some wine, and brought out some wine, and brought out some
wine, so it became an interesting evening. Then I was brought to a commuter train that took me back into
the city, about seven blocks from my hotel, and off to bed I went.
For Toozdy the rehearsal was at the Settlement Music School about 1.3 miles away, so I left early and
found it, and ate at a restaurant nearby and had a salmon fillet sandwich that wasn't very good. Rebecca, of
Rhode Island fame, was at the school just before the rehearsal was to start -- she is from Reading and was
on a trip to the old country -- and she sat in for that afternoon's rehearsal. The group worked more, and it
started to sound amazing, and I brought my Edirol and captured the dress rehearsal as best I could given the
mike placement on a chair. See "HTR Dress" link to the left for the dress rehearsal of the last, zany song,
and "SS 1 Dress" for the Millay setting that begins the set. So after the rehearsal I walked back to the hotel,
checked my Massachusetts messages, and there was one from a Philadelphia artist I know from
MacDowell. I called her back, and we set aside Wednesday morning to get together. Meanwhile, I went
back to the pub and this time got the sausage sandwich special and asked for extra wing sauce, because it's
what I do.
And this Philadelphia artist? Emily Brown, who's been on the "Home" page all this time because her names
both have five letters. We went to the Art Museum, to her place nearby, and then she had to teach, and her
husband drove me to a gallery where she currently has some really nice work on display. And I walked
back to my hotel, having Chinese lunch on the way.

The concert then happened that evening, and I even wore a tie. I traded some chuckles with Jennifer
Higdon, who had a set of four songs on the concert, and also with Ricky Belcastro, who studied with me at
Brandeis and now works for the Philadelphia Orchestra. And it turned out the person who took care of my
comps not only knew Rebecca (of Rhode Island fame, also at the concert), but had sat in on one of my
classes when she was looking at colleges. There were a whole bunch of songs by local composers set to
texts by local poets on the concert, and all of them were good. The two slow songs in my set sounded
amazing, and the tempi of the fast ones came out a little on the slow side. I'll see how good my memory
was when I get the recording. Afterwards it was me and Ricky and Jan and Susan and Soozie at a local bar
for munchies and beer, and Soozie asked them to put on Bravo on the TV so we could catch the end of
Project Runway. What, Ricky has STILL not been eliminated?
Then I drove home. Left the hotel at 6, used the Garmin to get me from the Ben Franklin Bridge to the NJ
Turnpike (it's not straightforward at all, trust me -- 676 to 30 to 70 to 295 to 38 to the Turnpike. Wow) and
the ride home was eventless, save some slow traffic on the Garden State Parkway. Tappan Zee Bridge was
easy. And I couldn't help noticing that after all the screaming about Winter Storms that Them What Make
had been doing that I didn't see any snow until I passed through Wallingford, Connecticut. Admittedly, it
piled up rather quickly after, and it had been a heavy, sticky mess here that had melted and frozen a few
times while I was gone. I had been plowed and shoveled out, but obessive me got out a shovel and edited a
bit -- especially that little bit of schmutz left behind at the top of the driveway that was benign on Monday
and hard as a rock on Thursday. The snow had been so heavy and wet that four giant branches had broken
off a pine tree in the back yard, and I had to cart them off into discard land, and the shrub next to the shed,
normally straight up, looked like it was bowing in submission, in every direction at once (see picture
below). And as I look out the computer room window now, I see that little bit of backyard that always
clears first starting to clear again.
Meanwhile, I had a second premiere, and it was also surpassingly good. I had to go into Brandeis on Friday
to hear Dan Stepner and Sally Pinkas play my "Pied-a-Terre" from 1999, and it was the the premiere. They
sounded fantastic, and the piece is really hard -- including fast unison writing, etc. And the piece is in three
connected parts: Prelude, Fugue, Presto. I remember at the time Ross Bauer had said I should add a fourth
part, "Changio". Rim shot. I was pleased to be no longer in my fugue period (Ten of a Kind and Dream
Symphony have fugues, too), and you're probably expecting a joke to follow that. Okay, then -- is
Massachusetts a fugue state?
But wait, there's more. Friday was a bizzy, bizzy day because I wrote ALL of that Phillis Levin poem
setting AND I entered it into Finale. It was practically artist colony speed. ALSO, Jim Olesen was
interested in doing a choral piece that I'd written in 1976 (other than functional stuff, it's my only choral
music) and wondered if I had a better copy than the one I lent him maybe 5 years ago. So on Friday night,
after getting that score from my Brandeis mailbox, I entered THAT into Finale, too -- see the "Sonnet 22"
link on the left. So I been busy.
Saturday night's concert was extremely good, and my piece sounded even better. There was a piece from
the 22-year old Harold Shapero that was also very good, and the 88-year old Harold Shapero was there to
soak it all in. And the second half was all Faure.
And now it's MLK Day and if possible I plan to spend it all in my bathrobe. Just because it seems like the
right thing to do. Upcoming is the BMOP concert on Friday, so I won't be home when the cats arrive. And I
have to remember how to teach phrases, cadence, and period for theory this week. Also upcoming -- not for
quite some time -- is my other big trip, end of February, and the Marines were in contact about the
particulars for that. And here come four weeks of teaching, and then already a vacation. This weekend -- a
two-afternoon affair -- is calculate the taxes weekend. Always both fun and complicated. Well, one of
those.
I didn't bring my camera to Philadelphia, but I did bring the Flip Video, so I have some movie stills to show
from the rehearsal in the Kimmel Center last Monday. First it's me looking wild-headed, Soozie making a
point (she was listing what she was going to buy to make dinner), Susan Nowicki, Jan looking crazed, the
whole ensemble in rehearsal, and that shrub bowing in every direction at once. Bye.

-------------------------FEBRUARY 3. Breakfast today was egg and cheese sandwiches with facon (a conflation of "fake" and
"bacon") with potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee; lunch was Trader Joe's Moo-Shi things; dinner last
night was grilled tuna, corn, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 8.8 and
46.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the third movement of the Rakowski
piano concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE DAYS Beff's recent oral surgery, $460; down
payment on replacement windows $419.25; emergency plumber visit for Bangor house, $550. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In seventh grade geography or history class (at least I think it was
geography or history -- we all had to write term papers and mine was a big one about sleep) there was one
project that was supposed to be some sort of presentation by groups within the class about Japan. For some
reason I got into a group that thought presenting a comedy routine with cartoonish Japanese accents,
imitating some stuff by Jethro on the Beverly Hillbillies would be the way to go with this assignment. So a
dumb skit was put together, most of which I don't remember, but I do remember thinking we were in
trouble when another group did a very serious presentation, with two students playing a Japanese couple,
and other students reading facts about Japanese diet and demography. Then near the end of our stupid skit, I
remember the teacher saying, exasperated, "What the hell is goin' on?" THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
slube (or the southern German variant, sloob) THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF The return of TMJ,
Super Bowl hype, Super Tuesday hype, more than an octave between alto and tenor. RECENT
GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS half-pickles of all varieties, pickled tomatoes, Buffalo wing sauce
modifying various benign tastes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK crows and dark-eyed juncoes are still
around. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8 . REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page,
Performances, Recordings, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: they're back! and like to spend the sunny afternoons on the screened in porch.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWELVE DAYS: 3.
FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I won five "first place" blue ribbon/medals
from the all-New England festival, and I still have them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF
I WERE IN CHARGE: Everybody can be the King (or Queen) of wishful thinking. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,925. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.95 at Cumberland Farms
in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE the pile of newsprint we didn't use for this press run, an ice sculpture of an injured rabbit,
a flashlight that was too big to bring with us to Europe, something pointy that begins with the letter "d".
Recently I have been pointing in every direction at once, and I'm not sure yet if that is a good thing. Or
even if it is a thing. There's a certain sense in our part of the world that I could have done it seven times, but
we won't know until the pictures come back from the One-Hour Photo place -- which we all know isn't as
red as it seems. So the people that were looking at it (you know who you are) forgot to bring their pajamas,
and when I counted them, they were fast asleep -- what cruel irony! Good thing the sock puppets were able
to restore irony.
When last we visited this sorry little corner of this sorry little site that SOME people think is funny, I was
about to begin (for me) the school semester, about a week into it. For you see, I had been in Philadelphia
for the start of classes, enjoying myself, enjoying my two premieres that week, and I had yet to experience
the bitter taste of working for a living. We all do, Oscar, we all do. So now I have reversed myself (which is
not the same thing as turning myself inside out, but what if it were?) and done actual work for a living, and
as is customary, I spent about twice as much time grading homework as I did teaching the stuff about which
the homework was -- which is a good ratio, since in the last fall semester it was a larger ratio (or fraction.
Go to your room). I got to the part of the year where I get to talk about PEDAL POINTS as one of the
prominent non-harmonic tones, and, as I have done so many times in the past (or maybe twice), I pulled out
the beginning of Prince's "1999" for pedal point in the bass, the Supremes's "Keep Me Hangin' On" for
pedal point in the guitar, and -- everyone's favorite, soon to be one of yours, the opening of the K. 331
piano sonata with me playing the middle voice pedal E with my nose. The gesture of which was quite
literally the gestation of "Schnozzage" -- and it's not often you get to read a sentence with TWO words that
both begin with "gest". Surely I gest. But anyway, it becomes disheartening year after year when the pop
references upon which you've counted for so long begin to fade in their effectiveness -- to wit, none of the

students seemed to think "1999" was familiar. Furthermore, no one had heard of Carly Simon's
"Anticipation", which I sang a bit of for the nonharmonic tone of EXACTLY THE SAME NAME (my
counterpart in the other section had done the same thing, which just goes to show you). In a concerted
effort to "show them", I downloaded the song from iTunes. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
In addition, I have my private teaching schedule set, and I have precisely the same number of students
Mondays as I do on Wednesdays and Thursdays, the only difference being that on Mondays I am in Boston.
I have also done some of the usual Brandeis stuff for this time of year, which has been speaking to
prospective students, both graduate and undergraduate, and taking students to lunch who have not written
any new music in the last week. Well, that only happened once, but I did get to have Buffalo wings for no
reason (which is usually the only reason to have them).
So while the TMJ issue kind of faded during the vacation time and had become hardly an issue by the time
I was in Philly, it was remarkable how when I came to Brandeis that Friday for Dan and Sally's rehearsal, it
suddenly and forcefully piped in -- as if there was something in the air of Slosberg. About this I do not
know, but I do know -- that Slosberg's climate control is pretty awful. Not only is my teaching room (and
especially the room next to it) too hot in this coldest month of the year, my office averaged 80 degrees
when I got into work, and by opening the window, running a fan, and keeping the door open, I was never
able to get the temperature below 77. Don't you hate it when that happens?
So weather has not been a big, big issue in the last couple of weeks, though we did get a slop storm
changing over to rain on Friday -- a half hour of sleet followed by a half hour of sleet mixed with rain,
followed by five or six hours of rain. Beff would have driven back on Friday if it had not also been an ice
storm up Mainewards, but instead she came back on Saturday (yesterday), making her time in Maynard a
mere 24-1/2 hours, since she had to get back today for a rehearsal and to do grading. So we took the
opportunities, such as they were, for a few nice long walks, since the weather was conducive for it.
However, speaking of weather -- that storm of heavy wetness in the snow department that caused me to
leave for Philly a day early seems to have made its mark around here. Several other fallen limbs, especially
pine limbs, were spyed on our big walk yesterday, and before Beff got in yesterday I noticed that one of the
very large branches of a hydrangia in the driveway was bent over and pretty much broken -- so sigh, I got
out the big saw from the basement and neatly sawed it off to put it out of its (and my) misery, pulling it out
to the discard pile way out back. While doing that, I got flashbacks of all the barrels of rotten, smelly apples
Beff and I had to take care of during raking season -- I had actually entertained the thought of getting tree
removal specialists in to cut the tree down -- and I emaciated the tree. Which is simply to say, I cut down all
the mid-sized branches I could reach without a ladder, and carted them, too, off to the discard pile. I
remember that the last time I trimmed that tree, the following year it yielded only four apples. My hope is
for a repeat of that in the fecundity department. And while I'm thinking of it, what do I have to do to get the
quince bush to produce more quince?
I did not write any music since the last update, but I DID take notice that it's still fairly light outside at 5
pm, which is a non sequitur. Besides going to Staples to get a bunch of Piano Concerto scores made, I used
our lovely big HP printer to make a full-sized score of Phillis Levin Songs, which I actually bound myself,
using strategy, trickery, and a binding machine. And two binding coils, since they don't come in the 11-inch
size at Staples. And I sent that score off to Judy Bettina so she can start working on the songs.
I also had a performance tape arrive, but not of one of the recently (or ever) reported performances here.
Alexander Lane got (from me) Carson Cooman's transcription for organ of my piano piece SARA and
performed it last June, getting me the recording this week. I think it is cool and weird and very different,
and the sort of thing that I don't get too often. See the green "Elegy" link on the left.
And I got my paperwork from the Civitella Ranieri Foundation -- a residency near Umbertide, Italy -where I will spend June 18 to July 29, the last week of it with Beff, too. We had to sign waivers, and that
we did, and mail them back to the Foundation. Apparently they hold you to working on what you described
in your application, and since I didn't know whether I'd be going this summer or next (as the applications
are for a 2-year residency period), I just said I'd write piano etudes. So .. that's what I'm a-doin'.

And this week, "Powerhouse Pianists", a CD made by Stephen Gosling and Blair McMillen for the
American Modern Ensemble, is officially released; Stephen Gosling playing my "E-Machines" is on it, and
I'm curious, since I have never heard him play it (but everyone who has told me they thought the piece was
fantastic -- which means the performance must have been amazing). Not curious enough to buy it, however
-- since it turns out I'm the only composer on the CD whose name didn't manage to get onto the cover. But
go to "Recordings" and click on the last CD image to see its listing on amazon.com.
The real big event of the last 10 or 11 days was last weekend. As is usual, it was about a two-day affair to
put together all our receipts for the year, separate them into related piles, put expenses into the correct lists,
and calculate all the expenses that are deductible. So Saturday and Sunday were "go figure" weekend,
which ended with me putting all the calculated amounts into a printout to bring to our accountant -- which
is being done by Beff this year, since she's going into NYC for a performance anyway in about three weeks.
Less, actually. MWA ha ha. We have a very good accountant and a very complicated return, and the number
of numbers is -- legion. And one has noticed that W-2s and 1099s are, on average, arriving later and later
every year. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
The Super Bowl happens later today, and there's nothing I can tell you about it that hasn't been reported in
excess and repeatedly, so I merely pass on that observation for the sake of history. And by the same token,
since so much of the activity since the last update has been of the academic variety, there is no need to
make this one go on as long as the last few. So here we are, about the embark on the paragraph that I use to
preview upcoming attractions.
So this coming Friday I talk to the composition seminar at the Longy School (weather permitting), and
Geoffy inaugurates his 2008 guest room schedule this Friday and Saturday. We are slated to do dinner with
him Saturday night. The following week I believe I take over for Whit in his section twice, in return for him
doing my section twice while I was in Philadelphia. Then the week after that is our first school vacation,
and I'm going to use it as a hat, or at the very least, as a piece of spinach (the kind that doesn't come with
screws). And after THAT week is the gonzo week of DC, North Carolina, and DC again. It kind of makes
you want to go to the bathroom.
Of course there hasn't been much of which to take pictures this week, so I took some shots on our walks,
and last night when the kitties were being needy in the kitchen. The first two pictures are taken from our
front porch yesterday morning just as the morning light was coming in -- they are looking west down Great
Road, and then northwest, more toward Summer Hill Road. The next shot is the emaciated apple tree,
which has no control shot for comparison -- followed by the old train tracks over which we traversed this
morning on our walk (the tracks were last used as train tracks in 1939). Then we have an Obama thing in
front of a neighbor's house, and the kitties being needy. Bye.
----------------------FEBRUARY 17 (Sunday). Breakfast today was egg and cheese sandwiches on toasted Italian bread, with
facon with orange juice and coffee; lunch was Red Baron toaster oven mini-pizza; dinner last night was
Vidalia onion chicken from Whole Foods, hash browns, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE
LAST UPDATE 9.1 and 45.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Amy Winehouse
singing "You Know I'm No Good" (it's playing on iTunes from the G5). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST
NINE DAYS 4 bags of stuff at Whole Foods, $156; toy piano (purchased last September but the charge just
showed up recently) $289. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Thanks to an egregious book
report assignment in American History my junior year in high school (we had to do three book reports on
SERIOUS historical books during the school year that weren't even connected with the curriculum), I
learned a cool way of doing something artistically that kept me busy for many months (some of those
months being when I had measles and wasted down to 100 pounds). But lemme splain. For the December
book report, I read a book about Churchill, and to make my report cover impressive, I used everything
semi-artistic I had at my disposal: clear acetate sheets, quill pens, model paint, and model paintbrushes. I
stuck the acetate over the book cover, did a line drawing tracing of Churchill from the cover, then painted
on the other side with the model paint. In succeeding months I did the same thing with lots of images. And

damned if it didn't keep me off the streets. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: persklet (in northen Italy,
perskletta; in Alsace-Lorraine, persclette). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF wacky weather swings,
Congressional hearings. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS cough drops (though they're not,
specifically speaking, gastronomic), jalapeno-stuffed olives, homemade hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK an amazing multiplicity of potholes everywhere -- though not so many in Maynard; and
Numberwang (look it up on YouTube). THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: shinty-six .
REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST
WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy hems me in at night; Sunny is a little more vocal
now when when craving cat treats. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My blood
type is A Positive. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Whatever you
eat, somebody else pays for. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,976. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.93 at the station on the corner of Routes 27 and 111. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an old macaroon
shaped like a troglodyte, a dust mote too large to fit through the eye of a needle, pens that we bought to
celebrate the Patriots victory in the Super Bowl now practically being given away, a hard drive with too
many damaged sectors to be useful.
While pining for gum, it makes sense not to put squirrels into the shredder; for you see, intoxication is
making me waste (but not want). So when your lemons start gunning for childhood, give them a bone -you'll be glad you did. And if anybody gives you any guff, start spelling things for them. That will show
them that you mean business.
In the two intervening weeks since the last update, not a whole heck of a lot has happened, but I can say
that teaching went as it always does, though there was a little more of it -- on the 13th and 14th, I took the
10:00 sections of Theory 1 to make up for Whit taking my sections when I was in Philadelphia. I pretended
I'd forgotten all the students' names, and called them all "George". Meanwhile, my teaching at NEC has
been back at the full load, meaning my time for lunch is a scant 40 minutes or so -- which I always have a
Conor Larkin's because if I have it at the bar, it comes out fast. Which is not exactly how I meant to say
that.
Tomorrow is President's Day, which is a rare day I have off at both institutions. I had offered to come in and
give lessons at NEC anyway, weather permitting, and as it turns out -- it does not. Following in the slopfest
tradition that has characterized this miserable little old winter, a big rainstorm and rather elevated
temperatures are forecast for tonight and tomorrow -- bearing in mind, of course that it was Them What
Make that made same forecasts.
And while we speak of these forecasts. On Tuesday it was doubtful, according to Them What Make, that I'd
make it in to do my teaching on Wednesday. Snow followed by sleet followed by freezing rain, finally
capped off by all rain in the afternoon, was forecast for Tuesday night into Wednesday. Indeed, in the
WINTER STORM WARNING text was this gem: "travel before noon on Wednesday is not recommended".
I arose at 5:30 on Wednesday morning and shoveled the two walks -- the temp was 29, but it was raining,
and there were 3 inches of snow, very heavy, on the ground. I didn't bother with the driveway, which would
have been very time consuming, so I just exited straight out at 6:15, and the roads were not too bad. It
rained at various intensities during the day, and the drive back home was very easy, and the plow guys had
been by. Though in the slopfest, they had left some schmutz behind that I had to go out and clear. And it
was very heavy, and it was still raining hard, and I got soaked. That night the temperatures got into the
upper 20s, and driving to work on Thursday morning was actually harder -- I had a bit of a delay starting up
at a stoplight due to black ice.
Now on the previous weekend we had also had some heavy wet snow. The snow weighted down the pine
branches by the gazebo enough that I went out with a saw and sawed them off -- thus hopefully ending for
a while the sweeping of the gazebo's roof by pine branches every time there's a heavy wet snow. Use your
imagination,dear reader, about how much of that snow went onto me while I was accomplishing this
trimmy operation.

By Sunday, a very strong cold front was sweeping through, and the temperatures dropped pretty quickly.
But it was mostly sunny, with an occasional snow shower briefly passing through. There was a Brandeis
New Music concert at 7 that night, and the roads were clear, so we were ready to go. Then a big, big, big,
big snow squall pushed through at about 6 for about 10 minutes, gave us big wind, and a marvelously icy
coating on all the roads. Indeed, we saw emergency vehicles in the squall's wake, and knew it'd be a bad
drive to Brandeis. So we stayed home. Good call -- those there say that on Route 117 around the hill in
Waltham, cars could not make it up, and also 2 cars were stuck at the entrance to Brandeis not able to get
up that measly hill. So home we stayed, and awkward and mannered was our spoken syntax. The next
morning was fine and that's when Beff drove back to Bangor, leaving very early. And, as is often the case,
one stretch of Route 95 between Waterville and Newport was slippery and glazed from snow squalls, and at
one point the draft from a passing truck caused Beff to do a full 360 -- luckily depositing her on the
shoulder, facing the correct direction. That's not something I want to do, though I did do that once while
driving from Boston to Vermont with Martler -- this happened near Concord, New Hampshire, and gave us
the idea to stay in Concord, New Hampshire overnight.
And today, like two weeks ago, Beff left early on Sunday (today) for various obligations at U Maine,
leaving me here to do my own work. Which, Friday night, most of yesterday, and all of this morning, was
comprised of extracting the parts for my Phillis Levin songs, printing the movements as PDFs, combining
the PDFs into single part files, and duplex printing them. I also did a full sized tabloid full score, double
sided. And bound them all. Now they, and a W-9, are ready to go to Collage, who commissioned the piece.
Thus providing a dramatic double bar to THAT project -- at least until the players start complaining about
how hard their parts are, or about the 0.13% of the parts with mistakes.
And so it's Brandeis vacation. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Still, I had to go in Friday for a
search committee meeting, and have to go in on Tuesday for another meeting (it does me no good to send
the dictionary definition of "vacation" to those who call these meetings). LAST February vacation I spent
in Maine while our pantry was being converted into a half bath, so some room's anniversary is coming right
up! And LAST February vacation marked our first significant snow after a mostly snowless December and
January. I am hoping this year is the mirror inversion, especially given that we've had about four feet of
snow already this time.
And I may get to start work on an etude (I've got one in the wings, but without a clue what to do in it).
Geoffy was here last weekend for one of his usual gigs, and as usual it was good to see him and to make
breakfast for him. He took us to dinner at the Quarterdeck, so that was a nice thing, too. Meanwhile, he's
doing a recital at the East Carolina festival where I'll be in a week and a half, though I have to leave before
the actual concert -- so he gave an entertaining reading of "Clave", the most recent etude I wrote for him,
which will have its premiere the night I can't be there. I didn't ask him to do "Moody's Blues", since I
thought it would be nice for the piano still to be in one piece when he left.
A week ago Friday I was called on to do a colloquium at the Longy School of Music in Cambridge for their
composition seminar, and I was given the 4:30 to 6:00 slot. So I whipped up a new lecture about me: my
piano concerto and the six (count 'em, six) etudes associated with Marilyn that became the underpinning of
the concerto's music. So with a little detail about my collaborative and professional relationship with
Marilyn, anecdotes, and basic stories about the six etudes, how they all get used in the concerto, plus the
story of the concerto's "lion music" and the story of the toy piano, I filled up an hour and 25 minutes,
leaving just five minutes for questions, most of them the predictable ones (such as "how did you find the
distinction between taking an idea and making it short and making the same idea long" -- answer being "it's
different"). Now I know it's a suitable 90-minute lecture. Thankfully, nobody asked me what I was doing at
4:25 pm on April 3, 1981. Because that would have been silly.
This morning along with making an early breakfast, the drama of the stove handles came fully to the
forefront again. The burner handles that came with the stove (probably from 1940 or 1950) are long gone,
and a while ago, Beff found some nice substitute handles on line. Three of them fit on the four burners, but
one of them has too narrow an aperture for those handles to fit on. So for that one we've been using our
jerryrig of the last 8 years: get generic stove handles -- the handles and the part that connects on the burner

handle -- superglue two of the connector pieces together (because one of them doesn't go deep enough in),
and hope for the best. Today that jerryrig finally stopped working -- the handle failed to "catch" to turn it
off, and I had to use pliers. Substitute handles were procured, and they also did not "catch". So back I went
to the hardware store for more superglue (true story: when 3 years ago is the last time you've used your
superglue, it's hardened and unuasable), made another jerryrig, and for the time being we seem okay.
Though the two handles on the right take a lot of effort to turn. Sigh, I hope this doesn't mean we have to
buy a new stove in the near future... cause if it did, I'd be steamed.
Another thing of great delight in the past few months has been our relationship with Citibank. More
specifically our former relationship with Citibank. For you see, when I started at Columbia in 1989 we got
a checking account and a Mastercard with Citibank, which was two blocks south of our apartment. The
checking account was closed 10 years ago, but we kept the credit card. 4 years ago or so I even discovered
that we'd accumulated ThankYou Rewards points, and we used them to get a color laser printer and a
regular laser printer, cost $600, for $150. In November, Beff tried to use her Citicard for a hotel and was
denied. After a long, twisted conversation with customer service, whatever "block" was on the card was
removed, or so they said. Several weeks later we heard that our oil company was unable to charge the card
our monthly budget amount. So I called and cancelled the card -- two strikes was enough. Understandably,
I was forwarded to what might be called a "retention specialist" who tried to ply me with --- extra future
reward points!!! After I pointed out that there wasn't much point to getting extra points given that Citibank
won't even approve any new charges ... we finished the cancellation.
Fast forward a month and a half. A bill arrives! From the Citibank credit card! They had approved a $169
charge by "Connections", which was something of which I'd never heard. Lividly, I called to get the charge
taken off the account. Suitably, they blamed me: there's an 800 number next to the charge on the bill, right?
Call that number. So I did, and was immediately asked for my account number. I explained (in a voice
about 8 decibels louder than my customary voice) that I had never heard of "Connections", had not
authorized any charge, and so I didn't know what my account number was. The operator knew my address
and phone number (!), and promised the charge would be lifted within three days. Which, as I found out,
was.
And so given that Citibank blocked real charges we tried to make, and then a month after we had
CANCELLED THE CARD, authorized a charge we didn't authorize ... well, when I read on the NY Times
website that Citibank posted a huge quarterly loss, I smiled a little. Currently, I am working up to laughing
maniacally.
In the meantime -- there have been all these new recordings coming in, especially in the past week, so I am
pleased to make them available to you, dear reader -- see the green links to the left and above. The organ
arrangement of "Sara" called "Elegy", as played by Alexander Lane, is still present. Newly arrived -- the
performance recording of Sex Songs in Philadelphia -- though the 2nd one (The Gardener) is still my dress
rehearsal recording. A few insurmountable glitches in the performance of that one. Then you can see a link
to the January 19 premiere of my violin and piano piece Pied a Terre (from 1999) with Dan Stepner and
Sally Pinkas. That performance is hot, hot, HOT --- though there are certainly things formally in it that I
think were not done as well as they could have -- for instance, the ending does not work. But, for a Prelude,
Fugue and Presto, it's not bad, and there's some pretty wacky stuff there in the fast music. I think, or hope, I
may be done with writing fugues, but you never know.
And so the only time in the past two weeks that I took any pictures was a week ago yesterday. First, there's
the icicles on the shrubs in the front yard from all the falling snowmelt from the roof, and then an icicle on
the gazebo about to detach. Then there's the Assabet, downtown, near flood stage, leaving "scrubbles" on
the vegetation. And then there's a hand mark and a glove on the bridge over the Assabet downtown that
Beff asked me to take pictures of for a forthcoming video project. I complied. Bye.
---------------MARCH 7 (Friday). Breakfast today was egg and cheese sandwiches with bacon. orange juice and coffee;
lunch was Trader Joe's penne arabbiata; dinner last night was salmon teriyaki from Whole Foods, sauteed

broccoli, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 4.1 and 59.0. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "March" from Cantina. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE
DAYS stuff at Whole Foods, $142; stuff at BJ's, $97; Alamo car rental $398 (to be reimbursed); ride to the
airport, $120; tank of gas for the morceau de merde car I rented, $43. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: It has been documented elsewhere that the band piece I wrote in 1975 was performed
by my high school band on June 1, 1975, I conducted, and the third clarinetists were drunk. On the same
concert, I had two other roles. #1 I was in a pick-up barbershop quartet that was actually six people, and I
had learned and memorized the top part (it's the second part, the "alto", that has the melody, or cantus
firmus, this being an arrangement of 'Yes Sir, That's My Baby' -- two of us were on the top part). Earlier, on
Senior Day in the gymnasium, the quartet was supposed to sing, but the two basses didn't show up; so in
the performance I improvised the bass line. At this June 1 event, the baritone had been tossed from the
chorus for inattendance, so I had to sightread it in the concert -- which is why in the picture from the
concert I seemed to be having less fun. #2 I ALSO played the trombone solo part in an Arthur Pryor
arrangement of theme and variations on The Blue Bells of Scotland. Only Don Swin, also in the audience,
was cognizant of what a not bangup job I did, and I got a standing O. No such standing O awaited me after
the performance of my piece. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: grueley (obviously the umlaut has been
removed over centuries of use; the Alsacian version of the word it crelu, and the Dutch have no word for
the concept, which just goes to show you). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF frozen precip, driving
in a straight line, not driving in a straight line, not flying in a straight line, people who are out of line.
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS spicy olives, pickles of various types. DISCOVERY OF THE
WEEK actually, a discovery spanning several weeks as the snow cover rises and falls: a piece of pavement,
formerly in the driveway, now sticking straight up and emerging from the plowed snow like a shark fin;
also song sparrow songs, and, according to Beff, robins in the back yard after it rains. White-breasted
nuthatches heard this morning. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO
THIS SITE: This page, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS
TO REPORT: The cats love the chaise lounge mattresses being stored on the porch, which they get to use
more and more often as it warms up. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE
my best standing broad jump was in eighth grade -- eight feet five and a half inches. WHAT THE NEXT
BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Snow" is no longer a four-letter word. PHOTOS IN
MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,018. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.32 outside
Greenville, SC; $3.17 somewhere in Virginia; $3.01 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT
WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the part of a blown head gasket you
can still use, a pine cone too small to use in an art project, a salt shaker with a small leak in it, a brochure
that went out of date before it was even printed.
Chrome is the finish of choice when mother-of-pearl shovels have been found to cause mass panic. If cats
could talk, they wouldn't have to scratch the surface, so why do we make dogs eat meat? Probably it's
because when I saw the thunderstorm coming, I made some small drawings of birds as if they could read
music (with their eyes closed). Twice they said they'd use the hamburger helper, but without love there isn't
a point on the end of the stick.
Eighteen days since the last update, and plenty seems to have happened, while at the same time just as
much seems not to have happened. But I suppose I should splain. The timeline was a bit like this:
From Feb. 18 to 25, right after the last update, I was on winter break.
Feb. 26 I taught both at Brandeis and NEC.
Feb. 27 to March 3 I was out of town.
March 4 on I am back and teaching normally -- to a point.
So during that academic vacation, my colleagues decided to make it impossible for any of us to do creative
work, as we did two and a half days of meetings at Brandeis to go over graduate applications and start
making our choices -- which were not finalized by the time we finished the third meeting. Boys and girls,
can you say WORST VACATION EVER? I had actually started that week, Monday, President's Day by
embarking on an 83rd etude. This one was requested by Nathanael May, with a very vague description of
what he wanted (he liked undulating things and arpeggios, and what's the point of that sort of etude?). I

spent all of that Monday cranking out 23 bars, contrasting some polyrhythms in the middle low register
with arpeggiating gestures that "escaped" from the polyrhythms, and those arpeggios were very cool. It
turned out the polyrhythms were sucking more and more rocks the more they went on. And then the flow
was interrupted by them what made this the WORST VACATION EVER and the meetings they called
DURING MY VACATION.
Returning, again, on Thursday to the piece, I wrote more, and got even sexier arpeggiating gestures out, but
the low polyrhythms just didn't do it for me. So I terminated work on the etude, and did my usual purging
gesture: I took out a yellow highlighter and wrote "FUCK" on both pages of the sketches. Ah, that's better.
Have I mentioned WORST VACATION EVER, by the way?
Actually, that Tuesday began with a brief trip to the post office to mail the score and parts of my Phillis
Levin songs to the manager of Collage. Which means I spent quite a bit of time over the previous weekend
generating, then PDF-ing, then combining PDFs with Adobe Acrobat, then printing, then binding, the
scores and parts. I began to lust after a proper binding machine that can do 11x17 scores easily (I want one
I want one I want one I want one), perhaps the continuous coil type thing. That's a future purchase, I hope.
But for now, I used two bindings on the big score. And off they went. Payday (and perhaps a $100,000 bar)
coming soon. Then they won't laugh at me (burp).
Over that weekend, Beff was here, but of course not on vacation. She got here early that week, because she
was driving to New York City, staying with Hayes and Susan, and was seeing our accountant Jonathan on
Wednesday -- what fun that must have been for her, parking in an unfamiliar place, walking to an
unfamiliar train station, and taking it in to New York. Well, as it turns out, she had a rollicking good time as
far as I can tell, and she was there to hear Marilyn Nonken play her piano and video piece. My own "F
This" was premiered at this concert, as an encore, and Hayes and Beff said it sounded like a tabla. Aw, man,
and I haven't even heard it yet! (Marilyn just sent an e-mail asking if I could wait for the recording until she
did it again perfectly, and I said Are You Nuts???)
On Wednesday, them what make were predicting "few snow showers" for us on Friday, and Beff and I and
Big Mike (ka-ching!) were slated for dinner at the Quarterdeck Friday night so we could pass on a house
key for him to take care of the cats while I was gone. Instead of a few snow showers, we got eight fluffy,
powdery inches, so dinner was postponed to Saturday night. Not to mention, Friday was Beff's day to drive
back from New York. She started out from Bronxville as early as possible, but of course between
Bronxville and New Haven nobody plowed, plenty of cars fishtailed and just STOPPED, and Beff with her
4-wheel drive had to go around them. In a word, Beff's drive was ... horrible. But she made it in just as I
was shoveling the driveway for her arrival. On Saturday morning after the storm was over, I had to shovel
the walks, as the people we pay to do that ... didn't. They did do the driveway, though. So, dinner on
Saturday, Beff back to Maine Sunday.
Classes then started up again, I taught theory at Brandeis and drove to NEC and saw my students there,
came back, and packed for my six-day trip. The green suitcase I used was too big for how much stuff I had
to bring, but I am okay with carrying air. So early I got to bed, and early I rose, and was picked up at 6:30
for my 9:00 flight to Reagan International Airport. While a-standin' and waitin' for the ride, I heard my first
song sparrow of the season. This was apparently supposed to portend well, and you know, if you asked me
to define "portend" I'd stammer a lot and then walk away. Then come back. Then walk away again, in every
direction.
The timing of my flight was just a few hours before another storm, this one not a very snowy one, was to
hit us. It was fine weather to get to the airport, and partly cloudy when I got onto the REALLY SMALL
plane that Beff had booked for me (Canair CJ50, about 50 seats). I was booked in the last row (13a) but the
plane was only a third full, so I moved further up, and got a great view the whole way of -- um, nothing. 20
minutes into the 100 minute flight, the turbulence kicked in, and 2 or 3 times there was the type of bump
that makes the whole plane gasp (note to self: always confirm size of plane before buying a flight from here
on in), and soon we landed, none the worse for wear. My suitcase came out very quickly (there were only
five pieces of checked baggage for the whole flight), and I waited a long time for the shuttle to the car
rental garage (as I was to find out only later, it was only a six-minute walk to it), getting my piece of crap

silver colored Chevy something with 23 mpg and Alabama plates. At which time I followed directions to
call the Marine Band ops people with a description of my car so that I could be let in to my rehearsal,
which was to begin about 20 minutes after I made that call.
So I drove to the Marine barracks, getting egregiously lost once, and then getting momentarily trapped in a
maze of one-ways nearby, but when I got there, the rehearsal was still going on, and I got to listen. The
band had begun rehearsing the previous Thursday and had put recordings on line for me to hear,but hearing
it live was much better -- not to mention, it was more together and hot-sounding. I had actually started by
disliking my piece after hearing the first rehearsal, but ratcheted up to indifference and then a provisional
like, and by now I was liking it more. After this rehearsal I was able to drive to the Colburn homestead and
meet them all -- including Winnie, to whom the second movement was dedicated. She vibrated no less and
no more than usual. That night Nancy made chili, we ate it, and we ate more of it, and I went to bed on a
couch in the basement.
Wednesday Mike and I drove in tandem though a maze of Virginiana to the barracks for an early morning
rehearsal -- where I also got to do e-mail and the like. It was another stunning rehearsal, and I got some Flip
Video movies (of mallet percussion and brass section) for use in future orchestration classes. After
rehearsal, I went back to Chez Colburn, got my stuff, and began the long drive to Greenville, North
Carolina -- for you see, there I had six pieces on two concerts (five of them piano etudes played by Geoffy),
and had been booked to give composition lessons to ECU (Eastern Carolina University) students at this
festival put together yearly by Ed Jacobs. And what did I get out of it? Lots of driving in a straight line, and
a free room at the Hilton for three nights. Plus, Ed kept paying for me at restaurants.
So I arrived in Greenville after making two wrong turns (US 64 east in Virginia and US 64 east in North
Carolina appear not to be the same thing -- worse, they are 120 miles apart), including missing the turnoff
for the NC US 64, I was settled in the Hilton, drove to meet Eddie at school, and he took me out for Buffalo
wings and beer. After which I crashed rather than hearing a solo clarinet concert that had been scheduled
downtown in a restaurant.
On Thursday I met with 5 of Eddie's students, heard Curt Macomber and Aleck Karis go through my violin
and piano piece, had a nice sub, hung out in a restaurant, met Chris Dietz who was also at the festival and
teaching composition lessons, and at the end of the day went out with Eddie and Chris for yet hotter
Buffalo wings, and beer. That night there was an all-Messiaen concert which I decided to skip, and crashed
at the hotel.
So on Friday there was just one student to see, a great colloquium by David Sanford, who had arrived the
previous night, a very long lunch to have, this time with David and Eddie and eventually Chris Dietz, too,
where David showed us his best Soul Train dancer moves. Then we went to a really weird New Music
Camerata concert that included everything from solo tuba with singing into the instrument to a Benjamin
Britten solo guitar piece that couldn't seem to find the ending (number of times I nodded off: 4) to a weirdass piece for two tubas and marimba. In the interim, Geoffy arrived, and we bonded.
Then I gave a public talk -- the one that uses piano etudes as an upbeat to playing the piano concerto. At the
same time, Geoffy was giving a piano master class. After we were both done, Geoffy played for me three of
the etudes he was performing the next night for the Flip video ultra, and those have gone up onto YouTube
(see yellow "Geoff" links up there to the left -- you'll see that they were, indeed, spantacular). Soon Eddie,
David, Chris and I were to eat some rather mediocre -- actually, about two levels below mediocre -Chinese food, which David paid for. So I owe him. David -- you 'n' me 'n' Beff, Northampton, soon! But no
mediocre food! Or meaty ochra!
And then was the Speculum Musicae concert, which had some good music and of course good
performances, and David's piece "Dogma 74" was killa! Afterward, an expensive reception with about six
times as much food as was needed, various students asked me about grad programs, and then David, I,
Chris and Geoff found ourselves in lobby of the the Hilton just after 11, with their bar closed, and we felt
the need for a little alcoholic adjustment. The choice -- Hooters or Applebees. We chose Applebees, had
two rounds, and then THEY closed, at midnight. And off I was to go, back to DC the next morning.

Driving north to DC from North Carolina is no more interesting than driving south from DC to North
Carolina, but it turned out I stopped for lunch and gas at the SAME place I'd stopped for lunch on the way
down -- spoo-oo-ooky. I got to Burke and the Colburn residence with plenty of time to spare, and
meanwhile, the Marines were hosting an eastern division CBDNA conference (College Band Directors
National Association). It was chilly-ish there (50) and sunny, but back in Maynard, there was snow and
crappola falling -- Beff made it in the previous night from Maine before the precip started, but it was grody
on Saturday, and she had a 5:00 plane to catch. She managed, meanwhile, to shovel the bottom part of the
driveway of three heavy, wet inches, and left early for the airport -- meaning I was obliged to get her, in my
crappola rental car, at Reagan airport at 7. SO, back to the main story -- we went in the Colburn van to
downtown DC, left off Nancy and the kids for museum hopping (it was Nancy's birthday!) and we went to
the barracks, where I was to speak for an hour to the CBDNA band directors. I came after a mock audition,
and got about 20-25 directors, and Karl Jackson -- recording guy for the Marines -- had made me a CD of
my piece's dress rehearsal in case I wanted to play any of my piece for the directors. Sweeet. (See green
numbered CDR links to the left, which mean "Cantina Dress Rehearsal" and not "Compact Disc
Recordable").
So I talked about my history of playing in band, writing for band, and how I don't understand the band
world, and that talk may get put eventually onto the band's website (except for the part where I began my
answer to "what's the first sort of things that go through your mind when you are getting ready to write for
band?" with "Oh, shit..."), and played the last movement of Ten of a Kind and the first, MARCH,
movement of Cantina (as it was already March). I liked Ten of a Kind better. Questions included things like
"what's wrong with band from a composer's standpoint?" (answer: all the energy is concentrated in an
octave and a half, and it's a chewy sound), "what software program do you use?" (answer: Finale) and "Do
you sketch?" That last one threw me for a loop because I didn't know which of the many senses of the verb
was actually meant. I said I don't write things down to come back to later because I like keeping them in
my head and if they're still there a week later, they're worth using. Or something similarly pretentious. After
all that, it was back to the Colburns, I drove to the airport and DIDN'T GET LOST, picked up Beff, and
when we got back we had delivery pizza. For Nancy's birthday. An air mattress was aired up, and we slept.
SUNDAY morning featured a long walk around Burke Lake (which is in Burke, where the Colburns live),
and Winnie pooped about every 25 feet (the walk was about two and a half miles...). After lunch snackies, it
was time to get to Alexandria for the concert and sound check. There we met Phil Smith, the principal
trumpetist of the New York Phil, just back from Korea, who was playing three pieces with the band,
including Bugler's Holiday and a duet-solo with the principal trombonist. My piece was just before
intermission, I said a few words (including something Beff thought was very funny), and people
representing the Barlow Foundation were at the concert, whom I got to meet at intermission. There were
maybe 1500 or 1700 people in the audience. Yes, it was a big turnout, the median age was 64, and the
median scent was potpourri. I got asked to autograph a copy of a "Martian Counterpoint" CD, and there
was a meet and greet afterwards, and some expected people -- the previous director among them -- were not
to be found.
After all this, we were taken for dinner to a nice American grill (I got ribs), and were allowed to bed
ourselves early. For you see, we were getting up at 4. Of course, me being me, I woke up every 25 minutes
or so, checked my watch, and put my head back on the pillow where it belonged. Finally at 4 we got up and
showered, drove to the airport, left off the rental car, WALKED to the terminal instead of waiting for the
shuttle, got our boarding passes, went through security, and got on our 7:00 flight. This time it was a
SMOOTH ride and we got great views of New York City and Providence, got in on time, and drove to
Brandeis, where Beff left me off. I taught my theory class, interviewed a prospective grad student on the
way to the 12:24 commuter train into Boston, and taught my 3 NEC students. Then I got to North Station,
got on a train, and exited at South Acton at 6:08, where Beff picked me up -- for you see, it is now BEFF's
vacation, and two weeks of it she gets. We had dinner, and went early to bed. I mean, duh.
So the rest of the week was spent normally, except for the weirdness of having Beff at home when I get
back -- a positive element, indeed. Common chord modulation was the topic in theory, and pizza slices
were the lunch of Wednesday. In the half hour between theory and my afternoon students on Thursday, we

had our final admissions meeting, meaning our long national nightmare was over. And then I came home,
sigh.
This morning we had the egg and cheese sammiches, and when we realized the only cat litter we had left
was some Tidy Cat -- which I don't like because it sticks to Cammy, and he puts his butt near my head at
night when he sleeps on the bed, and he smells like, well, like a litter box -- so we made a trip of it this
morning. First to BJ's where we got limes, 80 pounds of Fresh Step cat litter, Campari tomatoes, two large
things of hot sauce, 100 CD-Rs (Compact Disc Recordables, not Cantina Dress Rehearsals), and a pack of
16 scrubber sponges. On the way home was a fruitful trip to Whole Foods, where we got a bunch more
"honest tea" in large containers, 4 salmon teriyaki steaks, blueberries, tofu, balsamic portabello salad,
orange juice, Bubbie's pickles, and what have you, and home we came. Since then I've looked around the
now mostly exposed back yard -- waiting for this year's first crocuses (the earliest pictures I have of
crocuses here in years past is March 9), and was surprised to see that one of the backyard rhubarbs is
already emerging (photographic evidence below). We JUST took our regular 2-1/2 mile walk, and I heard
redwinged blackbirds and a robin, so spring is indeed springing. A bit. Despite the fact that Them What
Make say it'll be cold again this weekend.
Upcoming: six more consecutive weeks of teaching (because the academic groundhog saw his shadow this
week) before our Passover break. I am on a search committee for a Renaissance musicologist and will have
plenty of stuff to go to for that, starting this Wednesday, not to mention yielding two of my classes (for a
musicologist? Get outta town!) for the demo teaching of the candidates. Tomorrow night, Daylight Savings
Time begins, which means it'll be dark on my drive to work again, but REALLY light on my drive back.
Colloquium at Tufts on a day we're interviewing one of the candidates. And Beff is (mostly) at home for
another week of vacation. Look for an update BELOW the pictures below for the date and time the first
crocuses are discovered herein, once they are thus discovered.
Today's TEN pictures span the time from just after that vacation-week Friday storm to this afternoon. First,
the gazebo after that eight-inch storm, just before I left for my trip. Next, Winnie. Then we see Mike's
functional shoes -- informal and shiny-formal. Next the mallet players of the US Marine Band doing the
hard mallet stuff in my piece (video still), the whole band ready to begin (I used a harp!), three members of
Speculum (Curt, Aleck, Allen) warming up at ECU (video still), David Sanford showing his Soul Train
moves (video still), that piece of pavement acting like a shark fin near the driveway, Sunny out by the
asparagus, and (the red part) the rhubarb beginning to emerge. Bye.
Call me Martler
----------------------------------------------MARCH 21 (Friday evening). Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2%
cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch was miso soup, Tom Yum chicken soup, and
salmon teriyaki. Dinner was two Boca sausages in hot dog buns with mustard, hot
sauce, and jalapenos. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 18.5 and 52.9.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Carmina Burana with silly fake
words (thanks, Danny). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Mac Book Pro,
precise amount unknown, new cushions for the Adirondack chairs, $99 (15% off at KMart). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the last music concert of my
elementary school years (that would be eighth grade), Mr. Bernstein (the music
teacher), Jim Hoy and I did a trio -- 2 Chicago tunes: Colour My World (yes, the
European "u" is in "colour" in the actual title) and 25 or 6 to 4. Jim played drums, Mr.
Bernstein the piano, and I played trombone. At this great distance (in time), I can't
imagine it sounded like much but hey -- the big hit from the band's part of the
concert was "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on my Head", so how could we have been worse?
On the other hand -- the melody of "Colour My World" played on trombone .... eww.
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: dorknop (ancient Icelandic, nobody knows what it
used to mean, but there is a drawing of a bicycle next to the word in an ancient cave.
The "k" is pronounced while breathing in). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF hearing
about Obama's pastor, hearing about McCain's spiritual advisor, below average

temperatures. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS spicy olives,

lemon/orange/grapeheads. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the crocuses, naturally, though
they were less "discovered" than "observed". And they're on their tenth day out. THIS
WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: maznalard (we don't know exactly how much it
is, but a number with its own name must be really important). REVISIONS TO THIS
SITE: This page, Performances, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE
CAT THINGS TO REPORT: I removed a tick from Cammy's neck, in three stages (not
"cute", but a factoid nonetheless) and Sunny's tail gets all puffy sometimes when
he's outside. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
TWO WEEKS: only 3! FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I once had a
poem published in the St. Albans Daily Messenger. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Every time you turn on a flashlight, Davy gets a
nickel. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,037. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $3.09 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $3.15 at the Shell station at the end
of South Street in Waltham. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a crumb that just now fell off a Triscuit, a siren
that sounds like it's being played backwards, a bright orange hoodie that magically
appeared on one of the left-handed desks in Slosberg 212, the screw that holds
together a pair of scissors.
Dates are better when they are not foolish. However, becoming one requires the
suspension -- nay, the disposition -- nay, the supposition -- of disbelief. Even though
the cats would have preferred mice to anything -- anything -- beginning with "f". Rock
on.
The semester has ramped up to its intensest, yet smoothest, point, and it's all cruise
control from here. As late readers of the last update would have discovered, the first
crocus made an appearance on March 11, and they have spread slowly but surely
around the yardage in back of the garage. In addition, the leaves of the first daffodils
have gesprungen (in a manner of pretentious speaking), and last weekend while Beff
was ending up her school vacation, on Friday, we put the back lawn into warm
weather mode. This included bringing the little chaise lounges from the side porch
onto the gazebo (this had to go through the kitchen, and I brought them out while
wearing -- gasp! -- slippers), bringing the associated cushions, bringing Beff's work
table onto the gazebo, bringing the Adirondack chairs and footrests from the shed
into the yard, bringing out the picnic table and chairs from the basement into the
yard, putting together and placing the hammock, and transferring the two bicycles
from the basement into the shed. I also oiled the bikes and took a bike ride to
Erickson's Dairy and back -- and boy are my legs out of shape. It got warm enough
briefly last Saturday that Beff used the gazebo for reading and working (though she
didn't seem to be able to get the internet on her computer), and I spent some time in
the gazebo briefly while the house was being cleaned. Incidentally, we get the house
cleaned by professionals every fourth week. They are called The Maids.
Meanwhile, Brandisian things continue at their fevered pitch, and the semester now
seems to be flying by. Only four weeks of teaching left until the Passover break (and
only three days of school after that), and it really feels like it just started. Until I stop
and think just how many scores I've handed out this term to my theory students to
illustrate various musical concepts. For the record, dear reader, these last two weeks
were ALL ABOUT "other" modulatory techniques than common-chord, and a survey of
musical forms. To that end, I delved into the slow movement of the Beethoven Op. 10
No. 3 and attacked it from many angles -- how crazy was young Beethoven? Doing
common chord modulations from D minor to C major to A minor and cadencing -- and
then a DIRECT modulation to F major, where he should have been modulating in the
first place. That's nutty! What's more, there was a bunch of F major in the A minor

section, always contradicted by D-sharps that turned it into the augmented sixth!
That's nutty, too! And the D-sharps resolved a minor ninth higher!
And there was no NEC teaching this week, as they are on vacation. This gave me
Monday afternoon free to do errands, shop, and feed Zoe the dog at Maynard Door
and Window. This especially highlighted that I do only one hour at Brandeis on
Mondays (teach 11-12), and everything else is just a light. And that free afternoon
turned into a day and a half off -- so on Tuesday I got an oil change at Jeefy Loob,
stopped in at Dunn Oil to ask if we were entitled to routine furnace maintenance by
contract, and they sent someone at 3, did a bit of food shopping in West Concord, got
some stuff at Staples, and did yard work. The yard work consisted of trying to gather
up some of the soil deposited into clumps in the yard by the snow plowing service,
picking up countless bits of pine branches blown off by various wind storms, and
doing yet more MWA ha ha decimation of the apple tree -- it's down to two large
branches going straight up now, and I may yet find the energy to MWA ha ha saw
them off, too.
Beff, meanwhile, was in the second week of her two-week vacation, and she used
Wednesday and Thursday -- two VERY FULL Brandeis days for me -- to go to Maine
and do some beezy work that otherwise would have taken up the weekend. So Beff
took her computer out to the gazebo and got a wi-fi signal but no internet -meanwhile I got internet just fine with my iPod Touch. I decided to test the wi-fi with
MY laptop, and when I got it out there, it was black -- and wouldn't start up. Because,
dear reader, the battery had been drained for the last time and had no juice left in it.
So it can only be used when plugged in. I tried my spare battery, but all that
happened during startup was for the fan to come on really loud -- and the battery
was hot, hot, HOT. So I tossed that one. As I was researching where to get another
spare battery, Beff asked how old the laptop was -- I remembered that I got it with a
Dinosaur Annex commission the summer after my sabbatical, which would have been
'03 -- which also coincides with the dawn of Beff's video age, since I got Final Cut
Express for 99 bucks as part of Apple's promotional deals that summer. So Beff
resolved to get me a new laptop for my birfday (which is in June, by the way).
And now (as of right now) my new laptop is in Beff's office -- or the Beffice, as we
never refer to it. Apparently I'll be computing up a storm, once I (sigh) update all my
software. Good thing I haven't done any installs of my Finale 2008 yet ... alas, it
doesn't have the Mass Mover any more, anyway. But I did purchase Microsoft Office
2008 Student and Home edition. And all that.
Meanwhile. Jim Ricci suddenly e-mailed that he had occasionally been capturing the
text of these updates (he had asked me if I archived them, and I rhetorically asked
what's the point of that) since the very beginning, and I've decided to continue the
tradition. See the sky blue "News archive" link to the left, which will be updated every
time I update this page. If I feel like it. Reading through some of the old posts, I was
astonished at how very chipper I tended to seem during the Year of Great Excitement,
despite how very depressed I was. And that I posted weekly! I noticed Jim didn't get
the one where I simply posted "No more posts here until further notice" or the one
from a few days later that began "I. Resigned. As. Chair." But enough of that. We're
back in the future now, at least with regard to what is past. Are you with me?
There is not much to complain about with Them What Make lately. Flooding in the
midwest, and a meteorologist in the newspaper saying it's a result of the jet stream
"on steroids". Is illegal doping possible with the weather? What would be an
appropriate penalty? I'm searching long and hard for a joke here, and I'm just not
getting one ....

One thing that takes up very much beezy work and time at this time of year is the
annual compiling and writing of my faculty activity report. It used to be that you got a
Word document with the headings set up, and you typed the appropriate stuff below
the headings, printed it, attached a CV, and gave it to the department administrator,
who copied it and gave copies to the Chair and Dean. For the last two years there has
been a fancy schmancy online program for doing your faculty report, with some of
the answers -- courses taught, for instance, and committees on which you serve -filled in automatically for you. And the reporting format for "Research" is mondo
complicated, since first you click on "add publication", and you get about 20 radio
buttons from which to choose what kind of research. The only ones germane to
composers are "musical composition" and "sound recording" -- though now that I
think of it, there may be a way here to report a performance, too. So once you choose
which type of thing, you get an endless bunch of text boxes in which to enter stuff -and it's very cumbersome. What's more, I tend to have to report the same piece
twice -- once to report that I wrote it, and a second time, later, to denote that it has
been published. And reporting performances -- it would be far too cumbersome to put
them all in, so I cut and paste my list from this website into "Activities outside of
Brandeis". Meanwhile, new compositions, etc., I have to explain in a separate space,
because even though I have to enter for what instruments and how long pieces are
for the research reporting, the activity report generated by this program and sent to
the Dean, etc., doesn't insert any of that information. But anyway. It's due at the end
of this month, and I am always remembering other things I did that I should report
that I hadn't thought about or remembered to put down. So new stuff trickles in daily.
One of these days I'll actually submit it like the good boy that I am.
In the middle of Beff's vacation, Beff and I went into Brandeis to hear Rachel's
musical, which I had advised. It came off well, with a few especially good
performances, and with Beff quoting the "I Didn't Do It" number on the way home -and there was a long "I'd like to thank ..." session by Rachel after it was over. That
means I got some tulips for the kitchen. And eventually, a DVD of the whole show.
The only other thing we went in for was the grad composers concert last Saturday,
which was, again, very entertaining and uplifting, and certainly about nothing but
itself. And Ken and Hillary were there! And someone that I met at Northwestern! And,
and ....
We also, on a lark, spent a few hours around lunch time that Friday in downtown
Lexington. What the heck! Mostly so we could have lunch at Not Your Average Joe's,
which we did. I had pizza, and Beff didn't.
Them What Make had said it would be very windy today. They were certainly right. It
howled overnight, and this morning I went into Brandeis for John Aylward's
dissertation defense. John is now Dr. Aylward, and well he should be. And by the way,
the outside reader was John McDonald, who had good questions, and there were
three members of the public who came as well. We ate at the Tree Top Thai
restaurant afterwards and ... this is why I started with the weather ... on the way back
I saw two large trees that had been blown down and were blocking part of Route 117.
Wow. Now that's nutty.
We have been having a search for a musicologist with a Renaissance specialty, and I
am on the search committee, and two of the candidates have had interviews already,
so I've been getting a lot of free food. Another one comes Monday, and more in April.
Then there won't be any more coming. Two of the candidates are going to teach my
section of Theory 1, which puts me off the hook. Yes! Including this Monday, the day
that WRITING MINUETS FOR STRING QUARTET is the topic at hand. It's going to be a

weirdish week, to wit. Monday I teach the 10:00 section of theory (part of my
payback for Whit Brown teaching my sections when I was in North Carolina and DC),
watch the 11:00 section be taught, drive to NEC and teach, get driven to Tufts to do a
colloquium, get driven back to NEC to drive myself home. Tuesday is a Tuesday.
Wednesday I teach until about 1:30, drive to New York, listen to the 2nd of the Keys
to the Future Piano Festival at Greenwich House (Amy D is playing four etudes as well
as other stuff), drive back to Maynard. Thursday I teach my 10:00 student at 9, teach
the 10:00 and 11:00 theory sections, and teach my 12:30 student but not the 1:30
student, who will be out of town. Friday -- I forget what I'm doing Friday. Maybe it will
finally be warm enough for a gazebo nap.
Then, next thing you know, it's April. This time it's personal.
Incidentally, Danny Felsenfeld posted a link to a send-up of Carmina Burana on
Felsenmusick. See the "Carmina" link up and to the left.
Today's pictures start with the cats enjoying the fact that as it gets warmer we
occasionally open windows for them to do their cat thang; then we see Sunny on a
piece of pavement dug up by the snowplow and frozen into the snowbank (this
snowbank is now nearly gone, and the piece of pavement stacked next to the
garage); one of our little fields of crocuses on Tuesday; Beff working in the gazebo;
Beff speaking to her sister after a walk downtown; and a cool shadow made by a
recycling receptacle I spied in downtown Lexington. Bye.
Jeasas
Dear Mummy
APRIL FOOL'S DAY. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2%
cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch was crackers with 2% milk cheese slices and
kim chee. Dinner last night was chunky chicken soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
SINCE LAST UPDATE 20.8 and 62.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
Dave Stromes's minuet from 2002. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF
Logitech Webcam Pro 9000 (or something like that), $78, two Maxtor half-terabyte
drives, $258 plus tax, Microsfoft Office 2008 for Mac OS X, $129 for student/home
edition. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In high school in the summers I
played trombone in the St. Albans Citizens Band and the Enosburg Town Band, with
rehearsals for the summer season beginning in late April or early May. Ed Loomis
conducted the Citizens Band, and Sterling Weed the Enosburg Band. After one zippy
runthrough of "Alexander's Ragtime Band," Maestro Weed remarked that no one
could call this band old-fashioned! At which point I looked on my sheet music and
found the copyright date of 1918. I played first or third trombone, depending on what
was needed, usually third after I got the trombone with the F attachment. My favorite
tune, only in the repertoire of the Citizens Band, was "Red's White and Blue March,"
which was written by "There were these two seagulls, Gertrude and Heathcliff" Red
Skelton himself. Subsequently, and before I started to write my own music, I
transcribed some of the incidental music from the Red Skelton Show, which was
written by "There were these two seagulls, Gertrude and Heathcliff" Red Skelton
himself. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: blaskin (origin obscure, but it's presumed the
original Icelandic settlers brought it back to Norway and spit on it). THINGS I HAVE
GROWN WEARY OF the school year not being over, them what make being slightly
alarmist. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS kim chee, Bubbies pickles, celery
sticks with hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the iSight, and Skype. THIS WEEK'S
NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: Numberwang. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page,
Performances, Home, Lexicon. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: They love going under the side porch now that we've unblocked
it, and they spend outdoors time under the gazebo, too. RECOMMENDATION AND

PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF: zero! FUN DAVY
FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I was briefly on my high school track team,
and competed in the 100 yard dash in exactly one track meet. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Fossil is respelled fostle. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,061 (and a different number on the Mac Book Pro). WHAT I PAID
FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.11 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $3.45 on the
Merritt Parkway, $3.15 at the Shell station near Brandeis. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS
THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bottle of Snapple
before the Snapple and the label are put on it, a spent shotgun shell from 1976
recently dug up, a rock shaped like Elvis Presley's nose, a hundred doodads.
Merely ten days since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. It's April Fool's
Day, and April is coming in like a griffin -- even though we know it's March that has
animals -- and actual ones at that -- associated with its comings and goings. Since
the last update, there has been much single-day driving, much use of technology and
therefore transfer of files and installation of software, and plenty of doing stuff for
which they pay me. Dear reader, you know who "they" are. So therefore, I expect you
to tell me. NOW.
The weather has broken suddenly and decisively on the warm side (mid 60s as I type
this), and I'm in and out while typing this update. Why? Because I am taking
advantage of the gazebo (which is outside, where it is in the mid 60s as I type this)
and lying down and napping and what have you, to indulge my spring fever (Doctor!
Doctor! Can't you see I'm burning? Burning?). While at the same time checking e-mail
(because wi-fi reaches the gazebo) on my iPod Touch, and marveling at how airy it is
outside (airy = windy if you're not a Vermonter or a speeding locomotive). Indeed,
this morning I went out without a jacket to get staples (milk, orange juice, hot and
sour soup mix, chicken breasts, hamburger, celery sticks, tomatoes, in case you
needed to know) and did some yard work (pulling old forsythia and various vines
from the way back, moving yet another large fallen pine tree limb -- it's been a bad
winter/spring for them) -- AND I did my Theory 1 grading, in the gazebo, which gives
me the rest of the afternoon to do as I wish. MWA ha ha. And by the way, it's been a
good day out to air the house.
But first the usual mundane stuff about teaching. My NEC students have slowed down
a bit, which leaves more time for antics and/or discussions about other musical
issues. Jeff is preparing for an orchestral reading session, so very particular types of
stuff have been bandied about (what's it all about? Bandy!). Travis has an egregious
deadline, so the occasional suggestions to make wholesale revisions were not to be
made. And Miriam is thinking both in the present and the post-B.M. future. In Theory
1, we are now looking at Haydn minuets, as well as talking about minuetness, and all
the homework, save the minuets themselves, for the entire term has now been
passed out. I did my usual trick of showing Haydn using the Tristan chord in Op. 54
#2's minuet and trio, and I have yet to show the weirdness in one of the G major
ones. MWA ha ha. I've given some analytical handouts that also ask students to
identify how Haydn uses humor, and many don't get the idea of humor in music. So
I've allowed them to parrot me (Brother, can you parrot dime?)
And so it goes. As far as how it goes goes, that's it.
The main event of the last ten days was last Wednesday, a day I made into extreme
craziness. For you see, after finishing my teaching for the day at 1:04, I drove to New
York City. Get outta town, that's nutty! Yes, it is. And even with a few accidents on the
southbound lanes of the Hudson Parkway that slowed us down, I parked in Chelsea by
4:45. After which point I walked to the Christopher Street subway stop area -- it was

62 and sunny in New York and nothing remotely like that in Waltham -- and hung out
a little while waiting to meet Gene Caprioglio -- THE MAN for us composers at CF
Peters -- for dinner. We had dinner at Pennyfeathers, just a half block south of the
subway, and I had salmon with my Bloody Maries. Peters paid, and I'm guessing I
spent, on my own, a year's worth of print royalties (which I know because I just got
my 2008 check). And then, and then, ... it was time for why I drove to New York in the
first place (I don't usually drove 400 miles round trip just for bloody Maries and
salmon) -- the Keys to the Future piano festival, Greenwich House, Concert 2.
Concert 2. Wow.
So there was Amy, in a piano practice room upstairs from the concert hall, and we
said hi, and I introduced her to Gene. I got a freebie ticket, and a chair had been
reserved for me, for DAVID RAKOWSKI COMPOSER. I was afraid to sit anywhere else.
Good crowd, and the first pianist played Chet Biscardi's tango and failed to
acknowledge Chet, who was right there in the audience. Stephen Gosling and Joe
Rubenstein also played some hard stuff, and Amy did a foursome Davytude set along
with a set of ragtime-like stuff by John Halle and Derek Bermel and John Musto and
William Bolcom, among other -- all of it spectacularly. Amy even did "Plucking A" in
my set, and had to do a little patter while an assistant did the thing where they hold
down the sostenuto pedal with external hardware (in this case a Sharpie marker, I
was told). Of the pieces not written by me, I liked best the Halle and Musto pieces,
not least because both of their last names are five letters. Don Hagar, whose last
name is also five letters, was there, but there was no time to hang. For you see, I had
to get back to teach at Brandeis at 9 the next morning -- so after saying my hi's and
bye's to John Halle, Derek Bermel, and Joe Rubenstein, and another send-off to Amy, I
got on the subway, got to the parking garage, paid thirty bucks (why, I never) for my
5 hours of parking (why, I still never), and hightailed onto the West Side Highway
(getting delayed by an accident at 125th Street and then a stalled car, also at 125th
Street), and was in bed, after doing e-mail, by 1:30 am. Given how much sugar (fiveflavor lifesavers) and caffeine (one-flavor coffee) I ingested to keep it together, I fell
sleepwards remarkably quickly. And STILL woke up in advance of my 6:00 alarm. I
DID do a full day of teaching (even filling in for Whit's Theory 1 section because he
had filled in for me when I was in DC/North Carolina, etc.), and politely declined all
requests for meetings later than my prescribed time of leaving. Because I'm worth it.
Meantime. Over the previous weekend I cracked open the new Mac Book Pro -- ooh,
dual Intel something something, 250 gig hard drive, new trackpad controls that let
you scroll, resize and rotate using two fingers, and blazingly fast. I spent some time
importing my iPhoto library through the network (I didn't want to do the direct
connect because the fan on the G5 iMac came on REALLY LOUD when I put it into
external hard drive mode), and the format in which it arrived was a little screwy -- it
doesn't scroll continuously, but by its own "events", and if you care, dear reader,
you've come to the wrong place.
Since the computer has an iSight, plus software to use it, and Beff's MacBook Pro that
she got from work does, too, we both installed Skype, tested it out by making a video
call from the computer room to the dining room, and it worked fine. So much so that I
looked at Staples for a good web cam, and all of them only said they worked with
Windows. Ditto the web cams at Geek Boutique in Maynard. So Beff ordered one from
amazon that said it could do a Mac, and it arrived, and I installed it in my office on my
Brandeis computer, so we can now be Skypely from four locations or more (her two,
and my two, duh). The connections at school are fast, so it's like TV -- but the
network here in Maynard be slower, and some of the things Beff says get cut off or
become static while her face freezes. So we talk a little more slowly. BUT NO LESS

INFORMALLY. Yes, dear reader, we are informal Skype users.

Another longstanding narrative of the winter turning to spring got finished over the
weekend, as I finished my decimation of our way-back yard apple tree. What once
was tall and high (is that redundant? yes!) and producing wormy apples that dropped
and rotted and attracted bees during raking season is now a modern sculpture with a
handy-dandy cat seat. See pictures below. So that last bit of sawing was the hardest,
of course, but it was quite satisfying, gratifying, and other things that rhyme
(including cat, sat, and hat, and lucky and plucky). Now I plan to transform the
ground around it, mossy because of all the shade ("under the shade of the apple
tree" is in the lexicon not for nothin'), into a grassy, not at all mossy area. How? It
may be tricky, but I've heard that planting grass seed can work wonders when
growing grass is all or part of the intent of an activity. And you know me -- I'm all
intents, and stuff.
And scarily (reaching into a dark corner of the only part of my technophobia that is
still intact), the batteries on the Honeywell thermostat finally died -- two AA's that
were installed in late February 2007 when the old mechanical thermostat was
replaced. For a while now, pressing buttons to reset it has sometimes resulted in the
display going blank and then coming back on. Well, on this day, it was cold outside
(30) and I noticed by 11 that it was cold in the house. I went to the thermostat for
some relief (which for some reason was being spelled R-O-L-A-I-D-Z), and saw that
there was NO display. Hmmph. I finally had to figure out how to open in and get the
batteries out, and some new ones in .... and by putting my fingers in the little -- what
shall I call them -- finger holds -- I wrenched it, and dramatically so, off the wall, put
in new batteries, and then de-wrenched it. The display came back, and for several
minutes I saw "wait" under the temp setting. Finally, it cranked back up, and warmth
returned. With coolth being vanquished, or sent into a distant video game.
Beff and I had been to Staples to get some Maxtor 500 gig drives that were
advertised in a circular (the squarer was being saved for April), and after mine was
reformatted by the Mac (it had to be to be used), it stopped working. Sigh, so I
exchanged it. And now Beff tells me hers isn't recognized at all by her computer, and
I haven't tried the new one yet -- but geesh, Maxtor, 2 for 2 in drives that don't work.
Whassup with that? That's nutty!
I heretofore resolve to end at least one paragraph in each update with "That's nutty!"
until I stop.
Saturday was a BMOP concert with "inspired collaborations" including pieces by Lisa
Bielawa, Dewek, and Ken, so I drove in a little early, motored around the Pru and
Copley Place, ate at Pizzeria Uno, had a beer at a bar specifically to use the wi-fi with
my iPod Touch, saw the preconcert thing, and heard the concert from the balcony. It
was yet another fantastic concert, Derek's piece was quite original and came off as
too long (partly because it was), Ken's piece featured him doing what was billed as
"overtone singing" (partly because it was) and found very resourceful ways to repeat
the same gesture in the orchestra without it being repetitive, and Lisa's double violin
concerto was really, really beautiful (partly because it was).
And in the last of the Things to Report category, the CDs of my DC and North Carolina
performances finally arrived -- though dammit, no CD of F This yet -- and I have put
samples up in my webspace, with the links as featured to the left. Geoffy's Clave and
Moody's Blues are in yellow (his rendition of Dorian Blue was also great, which I had
heard for the first time! -- not to mention, of course, Schnozzage (which hardly
anybody seems to know he PREMIERED) and Dirty Rag), and the Marine Band's

official performance of Cantina at Northern Virginia Community College is there in

green. Amazing stuff going on in both sets, and I'm getting used to the new piano
and the new acoustics for Cantina. The performance of Cantina 3, in particular,
amazes and delights. Well, it does me, anyway.
With today's burst of warmthositudinousness, all the standing snow, even the high
piles by the front door, is finally gone. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.
I resolve to end at least one paragraph with "Excellent, so my nefarious plan is
working." in every update until I stop. Indeed, I'm adding that one to my Lexicon.
Woo hoo!
The Quarterdeck is closed! Forever! While walking to the Post Office, I saw a sign in
the window for "Last Meal, Saturday March 29". Beff looked it up in the local papers,
discovered that the Quarterdeck Market and restaurant were opened by a bunch of
brothers in the 1980s during the heyday of Digital Equipment in Maynard, some of
whom went to the docks to buy the fish, some of whom ran the restaurant, and one
by one they exited the business. The last one got tired, is keeping the fish market,
but according to Steve at Maynard Door and Window, an "American" restaurant is
coming in to take its place. But seafood! No more seafood restaurant in Maynard! No
more clam rolls! So I invited Big Mike (ka-ching!) to share in the death knell (both
words of which have five letters), and on Friday night he had crabcakes and I had
clam rolls. And, dear reader, you now know why: because we're worth it.
As I was grading earlier, I started getting kind of informal with the marks. I had
remarked on a student's page "there's more dominantness here than tonicness." And
instead of writing "A" for the grade, I wrote in "A-ness". When I said it out loud, I
immediately scratched it out and wrote just "A".
And oh yes -- with the warmer weather, there's been more time spent out on the side
porch -- because it is that which I do do -- and several years ago we had blocked off
the two little arches making openings in the stone-cement foundation of the porch
because Cammy, in particular, just vegged in there when he went outside and could
not be called back inside. Recently we've heard the scratchings of squirrels going in
and out, which intrigued the cats to no end. So we unblocked one of the openings to
see what would happen. The cats have been going in there but coming out when they
hear the magic word, so Beff said let's just leave it unblocked. But TODAY, dear
reader, Sunny stayed there for many hours and was hard to get out, even with the
magic word, so, sigh, I reblocked it. It's what I do. And what it is. Too.
Upcoming: Passover vacation, and some more alarmist updates that will pan out into
nothing from Them What Make. Plus, people will be born, and people will die.
Today's pictures include the current and final artistic state of the former apple tree,
Sunny looking out wistfully from the porch, under that my office as seen from the
web cam with the "thermal camera" filter, two Photobooth pictures of me in my
bathrobe, a Skype session with both of us at home and one with both of us in our
offices, Sunny on the cat perch of the former apple tree, Cammy in the porch
opening, and Great Road just before sunrise after a rainy day and a quick freeze
overnight. Bye.

APRIL 12. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice
and coffee. Lunch yesterday was a flatbread Ionian Awakening pizza. Dinner was fried
clam appetizer and grilled salmon with a funny red and yellow chunky salsa.

TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 27.3 and 70.0. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Trust in Me" by Take 6. LARGE EXPENSES THIS
LAST WEEK AND A HALF Two trips to Whole Foods, $infinity, purchase of rights to
poetry, $300, tax owed to state of maine, $661. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: The first several months of this webspace contained no Pointless
Nostalgic Reminiscences here. EVEN MORE POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
One summer -- probably around 1972 or 1973 -- my mother got obsessive about
pulling vines out of everything around trees and other vegetation that was on, or
close to, our yards. There had been a big, big tree that was probably not ours that we
kids liked to climb partly, because there was a long horizontal branch about 8 feet off
the ground and we could climb up to it and just walk along it. Once my mother pulled
out the vines around it, we could also climb UP a little farther, OVER about 20 feet,
and DOWN into a yet different part of the treeful experience, thus giving us
maximum variety. Also, once after a storm, a big tree fell over in the neighboring
yard, missing our house by about five feet. And there used to be a little parking
space we would use in the neighboring vacant lot,and a tree near it that we liked to
climb. And, and, and ... THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sorpriza (strangely enough,
not a cognate to the Italian "sorpresa", but apparently a food that pre-dated pizza by
about three hundred years in the mountainous region of the Thames River, and which
was carried on skiffs from landlocked countries). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF
the not-so-closeness of the end of the school year, weather too cold for the gazebo..
RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS stuff with hot sauce, low fat Velveeta on nonfat
saltines, reception cheese. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Detritus Review. THIS WEEK'S
NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: Love to love you baby. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This
page, Performances, Home, Bio, Reviews 4, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I
GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They will sit in the half-bath
window for hours on end if the window is open. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF: 2. FUN DAVY FACT
YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I used to like to make bird art from cardboard
cutouts of solid colors (what?). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Irony and bitter irony are understood to be separate. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 11,069 (and a different number on the Mac Book Pro). WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.15 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the length
of your lips, something without a label that we need to create a UPC code for, the
habit of adding "ness" to a noun to describe its affect, some ear buds that just won't
stay in your ears.
Dear reader, yet only eleven days since the last update, and it's hard to remember
everything that has happened (because, like, for that you'd need superpowers or
something). And I am wearing my bathrobe. That's nutty!
This particular weekend is more full of space because of weather (cool and damp and
rainy and icky and gray and early springlike and full of chattering blue jays and robins
and wrens and the lawn is greening up and skunks are making little holes in the lawn
looking for grubs but I seem to have lost my train of thought here) and Beffness.
Indeed, Beff's supreme dedication (more expensive than the "superior" dedication,
which is itself more expensive than the "better" and "generic" dedication -- check the
brochure) to her students is keeping her in the big New England state (hint: Maine)
for the weekend, thus making it my prerogative to stay at home and work and scoop
kitty poop and take out the garbage, etc. Some of which I do anyway. All by way of
saying -- I sit here Saturday morning updating my update because there's not much
else to do. Well, I do have a pile of hand-ins to mark up (but NOT GRADE!) for Theory
1, which would seem to explain that updating today instead of Tuesday is a serving a
procrastinatory function. Procrastinationness. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is

working.
I have, as is my wont, been teaching minuet stuff in Theory 1, and this week,
highways and byways -- that is, a smattering (wha smatter wit choo?) of mode
mixture (not mowed mixture as we get on the lawn in July), the Neapolitan chord
(funny joke for these parentheses deleted), and augmented sixth chords. Indeed, on
Thursday it was Brandeis Open House day (a day important enough to capitalize not
once, but twice), and my classroom -- which easily holds a class of 40 -- was filled to
the brim. Despite the fact that the course has 15 students in it. Dear reader, can you
make the logical leap to why it was filled to the brim (with the great taste of Rihm)?
So parents of students accepted to Brandeis and the students themselves were otherthan-clandestinely watching what a theory class at Brandeis is like, and I used all my
reserves of energy and teacherness to show them that augmented sixth chords aren't
just really complicated, they're fun! That's nutty!
And otherwise, teaching one student at a time (the "private lesson" thing they don't
write about in crime novels) proceeded as if by magic. We are also having a search in
the department, for a musicologist with Renaissance specialty-plus, and I am on the
search committee; in addition, April is the Month of Many Colloquia (note that it gets
THREE capitalized words. I'm just nutty that way), which has meant lots of eating out
at the expense of others, not to mention cheese cubes placed on top of crackers onetenth their thickness and digging in. And celery. Always celery. Excellent, so my
nefarious plan is working.
On top of that, the Brandeis Festival of Creative Arts is in full swing (they don't do
Half Swings at Brandeis, especially the kind that are capitalized), and tomorrow
(Sunday) is the Day Of Many Simultaneous Performances. Being that I was on the
selection panel for this day, fill in the rest of this sentence as you will. So I will be at
Brandeis most of the day tomorrow, not just to do my official function -- introduce
Seunghee's piano performance in Slosberg Hall at 3 -- but also see lots of interesting
performances, not least a performance by the jazz ensemble including Dave
Guerette's phase piece he wrote with me last fall. That's nutty!
So a Candidate Interview Day, Wednesday, overlapped with the official kickoff of the
Festival of the Arts, and -- get this -- the Brandeis chamber choir PREMIERED my
"Sonnet 22" setting from 19friggin76 that night. And it sounded rather good. It's still
a piece of juvenilia (note to self: pronounce with a "j" ("dzhay") incipit, not a "y"
sound), and the phrase connections are bumpy, but I enjoyed it. I noted with glee
(not with glee club, but that's a pretty cheap joke, and shame on me) that I "waited"
32 years to hear it. Only a third as long as Bach waited to hear his B minor mass, by
which time he had been dead for 91 years. Why, you! The first half of that concert
ended with 4 settings of jazz standards, with alto and soprano soloists taking solo
turns, making it the first time I'd heard several of the students who've taken theory
with me perform, and they were rather good. There was also a choral "arrangement"
of Ives's "Serenity", which wasn't an "arrangement" at all -- same piano part, and the
entire chorus sang the tune in unison/octaves. Not a heck of a lot of work for the
"arranger". Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.
Meanwhile, LAST weekend, which featured Beff at home after having spent the
previous one in Maine, featured Beff at home. Weather was chilly but not poopily so,
so we took plenty of nice walks and even did some time in the gazebo on Saturday
when it got strangely and briefly mild. We were both tickled (or, exhibited
tickledness) that we got very strong wi-fi in the gazebo, and I used the occasion to
use the wi-fi in the gazebo. And of course I played a bit more with the iSight camera
and making goofy pictures with PhotoBooth and all that stuff. And errands were run,

mostly in the passive voice. And I had taken a bunch of samples of colors home from
MDAW for the siding that's going on the house this summer (as in, "this summer, we
are re-siding our house"), and with much deliberation, the color we chose -- a lightish
bluish grayish thing with lots of ish's attached -- is called Pelican. That's nutty!
Meanwhile, plenty of stuff related to my Life As A Composer arrived in the mail, and
that included our tax return (gotcha! faked left, went right. You're welcome), which
was complicated, as usual. But then we got broadsided by a K-1 (not soon to be an
etude title), meaning we're going to be filing a supplementary something, sigh. And
the Collage for Judy commission arrived, as well as the recording of Marilyn's
premiere of "F This" (see mp3 and score links on the left), comp copies from Peters of
Etudes Book VIII (still counting in Roman numerals, since the Etruscan ones are in the
wash), and of my two hand drum pieces in the Michael Lipsey-commissioned
collection published by Calabrese Brothers (see pictures below). Excellent, so my
nefarious plan is working.
So last week's initiation of the Colloquium Fest began with Sam Adler, of to-die-for
orchestration textbook fame. He talked and played music until he stopped. This
week, Gus Ciamaga, Brandeis's own graduate, and the guy who started the Brandeis
electronic studio, talked and played music until he stopped. It turns out Brandeis had,
chronologically speaking, the fourth college electronic studio established in North
America. We even beat Yale by 5 months (as we do in many time-based things), and
even though I was 3 years old when the studio was established, I speak in first
person plural about it. Dear reader, you may subtract 3 from my age to come up with
a number to represent how long Brandeis has had an electronic studio. But then
you'll have to eat it. By the way, "Ciamaga" turns out to be a Polish name. I asked
him "what kind of Polish name is 'Ciamaga'?" He asked me "what kind of Polish name
is 'Davy'?" That's nutty!
Just one more week until our strangely timed Passover vacation ("strangely timed"
meaning very late in the school year, not its relation to the timing of Passover, which
would be how it got its name), and the Colloquium Fest ends Thursday with Super
Daron. We've already set up a post-dinner meeting in or near the gazebo, for which I
purchased some not-at-all-execrable red wine. If all goes as it has in the past, I will
wake up Friday feeling as if my head has been nailed to the bed. Meanwhile, Daron is
getting a car service to take him to his hotel in advance of his Friday flight, all of it
paid for by person or persons three time zones distant. Excellent, so my nefarious
plan is working.
Yesterday was Rick Beaudoin's dissertation defense. That is, DOCTOR Rick Beaudoin's
defense. Or, how we refer to him after the fact, though DURING the defense he
wasn't a doctor. Nor did he play one on TV. The outside reader was David Sanford,
who proceeded to be 45 minutes late, causing consternation and, uh, a late start. But
it did come off successfully (the content of the defense will remain Top Secret), and
afterwards David followed me to Maynard (because I asked him to) and we walked to,
and ate at, the Blue Coyote Grill. Now considering that when the same restaurant,
under previous management, was called "Amory's" (nonsequitur alert), and Beff and I
once ate there for lunch and she got a soup in a bread-like bowl that she could eat -and also considering that when you enter you get all the tasty ambience (but none of
the ambivalence) of a sports bar -- the food was FANTASTIC. And not so expensive.
We got a fried clam appetizer that was at least as good as you could get at the nowformer Quarterdeck, and I got a salmon special that was even better, so there, nyaah
nyaah Quarterdeck. Or should I say ... Cast Iron Kitchen? Yes, for those of you
grasping at straws trying to find a thread of narrative in this paragraph, the space
formerly occupied by the Quarterdeck is said to be soon occupied by the Cast Iron

Kitchen. And so after dinner, we walked back, sat in the gazebo and talked about how
soon we will be reminiscing about having sat in the gazebo, and David drove home.
Which made him go in a generally westerly direction. That's nutty!
For the upcoming vacation, all that's planned is for me finally to write that etude for
Nathanael May on the vaguest possible parameters -- you may remember, dear
reader, that I began it during the WORST FEBRUARY VACATION EVER and chucked it
forthwithness. Then, perhaps I'll write more. Because Peters likes etudes. And,
believe it or not, they are thinking about various compilations of editions -- the "easy"
etudes, for instance, and don't look at me like that, because some of them ARE easy.
Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.
So last night via a link from Danny's blog, I happenstanced into Detritus Review, a
funny, smart, rude, smart, rude, funny, smart, rude, smart, funny, spam, spam,
funny, spam, and sympathetic blog about bad writing on music. Since there is so
much bad writing on music to be covered, there were a lot of entries, and I read
many, many of them therein, and was up until midnight plus two minutes.
Occasionally laughing out loud, occasionally laughing inwardly, and occasionally
wondering what that funny hairy feeling in my nose was. And now I have satedness.
That's nutty!
And oh yeah -- I updated COMPOSITIONS here with hotlinks to YouTube videos of the
pieces listed in the list. I don't know why, I just did it, okay? And so this program
(which cost me less in 2002 than a lot of desserts I've had) won't necessarily line up
the YouTube link with the name of the piece, so it'll be an adventure for both of us.
It's fine on a Mac using Safari, and in 1956 that sentence would have made no sense
whatsoever. Excellent, so my nutty plan is working.
When vacation is over, just three days of classes left. Then lots of office hours to help
out with minuetnesses, the readings themselves on May 6, and a river runs through
it. Are you still reading, dear reader? After that's done, things crank up -- what with
etude recordings, going to Chicago to hear and film Her Amyness, meeting here with
Mary Fukushima about a flute piece (she is coming from Lawrence, Kansas, which will
involve being on a plane at least twice, assuming she intend to go back to Lawrence),
some sort of half-concert at Mannes in New York, and then I turn half a century, and
then I go to Italy (and, by the way -- YOU DON'T! -- unless you do), and then I come
back. And meanwhile, we are thinking of hanging in the Vermont place for a week or
so right after Brandeis graduation. Or, commencement as they call it. Excellent, so
my nefarious plan is nutty.
Naturally, the iSight and PhotoBooth distortion filters haven't gotten unfunny yet, so
such pictures dominate the gallery for this update. But first, yet another, slightly
artistic (shadows! Oooh!) picture of the emaciated apple tree, a twisted Cammy, the
entrance to the dining room from the kitchen, the TWO publications that arrived this
week, and four pictures that will speak (metaphorically) for themselves. That's
nefarious! Bye.

APRIL 24. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch
yesterday was a Red Baron deep dish pizza. Dinner was 93% lean grilled cheeseburgers and salad.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 27.5 and 83.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Etude #81, Kai'n Variation. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK AND A
HALF Various extra last-minute taxes owed due to an unexpected K-1, gasoline, pointy things.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During hockey playoff season in fifth grade, the Eastern
conference championships were soon to get under way between the Canadiens and the Bruins. We lived 75

miles from Montreal and got "Hockey Night in Canada" with its cheesy theme song, and I was a Canadiens
fan -- I even have, somewheres, an autographed picture of Yvan Cournoyer ("corn - Y - A"). And this was
the timeof Phil Esposito and Bobby Orr in Boston, along with Jean Beliveau and Maurice Richard in
Montreal. Arguments abounded within the fifth grade class as to the merit of the two teams, and I and two
others stood steadfast that Montreal would win. One student on the Bruins side talked the teacher (Miss
Crafts?) into letting us take a secret ballot as to who would win. Final results: Bruins 26, Canadiens 3. In
reality, the Canadiens won the series and the Stanley Cup, thus showing that Just Desserts aren't just
desserts. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF primary season, skewed political reporting, political
reporting on political reporting, political reporting on political reporting on political reporting, Anthony
Tommasini using the word "astringent". RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Davy's extra secret
hot sauce concoction, blackberries, mouth-size tomatoes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Verizon FiOS.
THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: Grok. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page,
Compositions, Home, Lexicon, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE
CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They are currently in Bangor, and Sunny spends much of the day under the
covers of the bed. Plus, I get to see them often on Skype. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWELVE DAYS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE My father worked at a paper mill where they recycled unsold comic books with the
covers removed; hence I was always well-stocked with comic books, but I never cultivated an appreciation
for comic book cover art. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE:
Uptown and downtown are just words. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,191. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.29 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, and later, $3.39 at Cumberland Farms
in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE trail mix in a small porcelain container, seventeen of those things you put on the back of
your neck, a public transit schedule from 1957, tintinnabulation inside a horse's mouth.
When searching for meaning, don't confuse reality with reality. For you see, on top of mud house
references, an argument could be built, through and through, for the conservation of (and irridescence of)
things with holes. But I may be speaking from the roof of my mouth, and if that is true, there won't be straw
in your soup tonight, and we know what that means -- yes, yes, yes, it's the place for someone's head to
have been somewhat less than if it had been somewhat more. But I digress.
Geoffy was here for one night earlier in this reporting period, and he marveled at the "new feature" of these
updates in which the first paragraph is nonsense. Alas, I had nixed that feature last time, so I guess that
makes the above paragraph a return to "classic" days. Now there's something you don't see every day.
One new feature in the household is that the internet no longer goes down when the phone rings (something
that wasn't supposed to happen with DSL ("talk on the phone while you surf!", said the brochures) but did
with cordless phones). More on this later. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.
We are plopped in the middle of my Brandeis Passover vacation, and Mother Nature has cooperated with
gorgeous weather -- a spell of quite dry weather with a gradual warm-up from the low 60s last Saturday to
83 yesterday (84 in Boston, 2 degrees removed from the record), and today after the passing of a front, it
cools down to the mid-70s. The greenth around us has cooperated fully, with leaves of maple trees
exploding into the light yellowish green color, the asparagus is bursting forth (see below), the rhubarb is
near the picking stage (but further removed from the grinning stage), and heck, I even had to mow a part of
the lawn where the grass had (duh) gotten high. Funny how I never tire of spring fever. And, dear reader,
you may have noticed by now that I like it when it gets warm. That's nutty!
Indeed, indeed! At the end of the last update, I talked about the cold and gloomy weather that was then
happening that day, and then Them What Make got it horribly, wonderfully wrong -- instead of cloudy and
52, it became hazy-sun and 75. I took the opportunity to do yard work (lots of pulling of vines and
trimming of dead branches), and take a bike ride (West Acton) and lounge on the hammock. I had heard a
knock on the front door, which I tend never to answer --- since in the eight years we've been here,
previously such knocks mean only one of two things: Jehovah's Witnesses or Domino's delivering to the
wrong address. So I didn't answer. Whoops, meanwhile I had to fax an unexpected K-1 to our accountant,
which made me vulnerable -- the knock came again, and I was evident to anyone peering in. Sigh, so I

answered. And it was door-to-door Verizon people signing up people for FiOS internet and phone service. I
said yes, signed a bunch of stuff, while faxing away. More details to follow, below, and that's nutty!
Before this glorious vacation beginned, though, there was still much teaching to accomplish to make it this
far, plus I had to convince my Patriots Day students at NEC (as in, Monday, first day of this vacation,
Boston marathon) that it was REALLY HARD to get into NEC on the day of the Marathon. They were
convinced, luckily. Meantime, there was more minuetness to discuss in theory classes (I spent, like, 45
minutes showing different ways you could use applied chords to ornament a I-V-V-I progression), there
were a few minuet consultations, and there was a department meeting (in which, as always, issues that
should take 5 minutes to resolve take 25), followed by the Daronius experience. Now there's something you
don't see every day.
So yes, my upbeat to my vacation was actually a Daron Hagen colloquium, and it was quite excellent.
Daron played a double concerto without venturing to explain or elucidate it, and then spent a very
entertaining time riffing on the music biz thing -- and the students really, really liked it. After the event was
the reception and dinner, and it was me and Yu-Hui and Daron at the Asian Grill, with Daron being the first
this spring (this was my seventh time there, what with the job search candidates) to order the all-you-caneat sushi. And that comes on a boat-shaped thing that looks like it would actually sink like a stone in water.
Daron was on his way the next day to Seattle, and those people (in Seattle) were covering the cost of a
hotel for him, so we made our way to Maynard afterwards, had scotch (Daron) and beer (moi) in the gazebo
for two and a half hours, giggled uncontrollably at times, and at eleven a car service (AAA Limo) took
Daron to his hotel. Now there's something you don't see every day.
And with the start of my vacation official, I was able to concentrate on summer planning, and the actual
writing of music. I scheduled three days in Chicago at the end of May to work with Amy on etudes -- and to
make movies of them -- since there's the recording session in New York at the beginning of June. Beff and I
thus were able to schedule a week in May, leading up to Memorial Day, at the Vermont place. Meanwhile,
Beff was here for the weekend, and it was in the cooler portion of this dry spell, but the sun made it nice.
So we did the Boon Lake bike ride, and what it is, too. And on Sunday, Johnny A and MJ came by and we
walked through the Assabet wildlife preserve -- formerly known as the National Guard Training Grounds.
We also served rhubarb and pickles. After that was done, Beff brought the cats with her to Maine for a twoweek stint there caused by her students having lots of weekend recitals, etc. Now there's something you
don't see every day.
So last February I tried to write an etude for Nathanael May based on some weird parameters. Meanwhile,
my colleagues in composition decided to take our vacation days to have group meetings to do graduate
admissions, which in retrospect we all agreed was a colossal waste of all of our time. Because a)
VACATION, people! and b) things go much faster when we look at the materials invidually and THEN
meet, and c) WORST VACATION EVER. And I tossed that etude. So it was incumbent upon me to try
again, which I did, beginning on Patriots Day. I finished it yesterday, and titled it as a weird pun on
Nathanael's last name: "M'Aidez". Work it out with a pencil (see blue link to the left). The ideas being
etuded are so strange and disparate that I couldn't come up with an aphorism for what it's "about". So I just
left that part blank. TODAY I was at a loss for new etude ideas, and as I awoke I thought of overlapping
repeated note/chord hairpins in some minimalist music I neither like nor dislike. So I started an etude, #84,
on that idea, this morning. The first five bars were extremely easy to write. I think I may also do the etudepair thing like I did with mirror etudes and cool-chord etudes and do another etude on syncopated repeated
note patterns -- taking care not to make it sound too much like a Morse code etude. Not that there's
anything wrong with that -- and it's something you don't see every day.
And the latter part of Monday featured Buffalo wings with Ken -- a supplementale, as he called it. We
walked to the Village Pizzeria for those, and then to Erikson's Ice Cream for ice cream, took some zany
pictures with the iSight, and Ken had to get back to his job that wasn't in vacation mode.
But to backtrack a bit. Last Wednesday was a doozy of a day, not just because there was a lot of teaching
stuff to accomplish and not just because the sunniness meant my office was getting hot again. But that extra
K-1 meant more work for our accountant, and extra tax returns to file (we had already e-filed Federal,

Maine, and Massachusetts), and they arrived that day, meaning FOUR checks to write (Vermont is now in
the mix) and a quick trip to the post office. I also lounged on the gazebo and planted grass seed near the
apple tree-cum-sculpture. But that night was also Seunghee's recital, including premieres of etudes #80 and
#81, and I got to hear them and film them before the concert -- though with no page turner there for the
runthrough, there's lots of stoppage, and in the videos there are some breathtaking jump cuts for the sake of
continuity -- see red links to the left. And it was a fun affair, what with 3 Chopin etudes and the third
Chopin sonata also done from memory. Now there's something you don't see every day.
And backtracking even further. The previous Sunday was Festival of the Arts mondo-day and I had to
introduce Seunghee's performance as well as attend performances of pieces by my charges (Rachel's
musical, excerpts, and Dave G's jazz band phase piece). I had no idea what Seunghee was going to do, but I
introduced her anyway, and it turned out to be good -- some piano pieces of her own in response to some
Korean engravings. While I was at Brandeis I also caught some of the stuff going on elsewhere, including a
Brahms quartet at the Rose Art Museum. Now there's something you don't see every day.
So jump-cutting back to our current reality. Verizon was scheduled to come and install our fiber optic stuff
on Tuesday, and by 2:00 no one had showed up -- slightly distressing considering TWO machines called
my machine to let me know to expect a four to eight hour installation duration (not even remotely related to
the conjunction junction, but we can dream, can't we?). Though at 8:30 and 11:30 Verizon trucks could be
spied across the street with workers hoisted on hinged ladders a-messin' with the makin's of telephone
poles. But finally -- a dude with a ponytail, goatee, and an orange flak jacket showed up, did the nasty of astringin' a long wire through the plumage of a maple tree from a telephone pole to the side of our house,
and made various drilling sounds, while I was a-writin' away, and occasionally enjoying the gorgeous
weather. Finally at about 6:30 things were ready to roll. And what did I have? A new big white box on the
side of the house, a new big white box in the basement, a new hole in the house in the computer room, a
new VERIZON FIOS router, and a play-by-play of the Red Sox game that had just started (Ellsbury
homered to lead off). Now there's something you don't see every day.
So Verizon guy tried to do some configuring from the Mac Book Pro downstairs, but the Verizon software
was weird, so he did it from the Windows computer. I now have another e-mail address -- drakowski at
verizon dot net as well as ziodavino at verizon dot net (attached to the DSL in Bangor), and I had to call
earthlink to tell them I wasn't doing DSL OR home networking any more (and now that I think of it -- the
extra ten bucks a month for home networking we paid was unnecessary, wasn't it?) and I'm downgraded to
e-mail and webspace only. Then he did the speed test, which confirmed we have very fast internet. When I
moved from 56k dial-up to 768K DSL, the speed change was vast. Now we moved from 768K DSL to 20M
FiOs, and it screams --- the first thing I did was watch some Daily Show videos that previously skipped and
jumped, lumberjack-like. And it worked! And then Beff and I Skyped, and I brought the Mac Book all the
way out to the edge of the yard and confirmed that the network goes pretty far and wide. Zounds! And now
the Apple Airport Extreme and Airport Express are relegated to the attic. Or perhaps we'll find somewhere
else to use them. Oh yeah -- and we have unlimited long distance phone calling now, too. Now there's
something you don't see every day.
So getting this screamingly fast internet thing -- sort of like spring fever. When the first warm days come,
there's no way I want to spend it indoors, since it feels like I have to get outside and soak in the warmth
before it goes away. Same with the fast internet -- I was trying to invent ways to utilize fully the new fast
stream of 0s and 1s before it ... goes away? So I was doing the Daily Show excerpts, and other various
things that show video and -- eww -- I even went to hulu.com and suffered through almost an entire minute
of an episode of I Dream of Jeannie. Meantime -- I look forward to un-interrupted, non-jerky internet
viewings of 30 Rock and Ugly Betty when Beff is back. That's nutty!
So all that's left is three days of school once we return, plus lots and lots of minuet consultations, a dinner
out with my NEC charges, two PhD orals, a faculty senate meeting, blah blah blah. Last year at this time
there was no easing into the summer work season -- as I went straight to MacDowell the day after classes
ended, and any Brandeis biz was an official intrusion. This year, the academic year will sort of peter out
gradually, what with minuet readings and those orals and other meetings and all that. And hey -- I'm going
to commencement! May 18, and that's contractually my last day I have any obligations to Brandeis until

classes start again. I look forward to wearing our Princeton robe, black with orange stripes on the arms.
Much more succinctly, I look forward to not wearing it. Woo hoo! Excellent, so my nefarious plan is
working.
Pictures this week are fairly self-explanatory. Obviously the cats now have a perching place by the door on
the porch, and every spring there is an obligatory action shot of a beer clutched while lounging. And the
Nikon continues to take kickass close-ups, this time of the asparagus just starting to emerge. Then there's
me and Ken and Geoffy on the iSight. Bye.

MAY 8. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch today
was a Caliofornia Kitchen frozen 4-cheese pizza reheated to eating temperature. Dinner last night was 2
Bloody Maries, clam chowder, Caesar salad, and a spinach-wrapped salmon filet. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 29.1 and 78.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE
THIS Dan Beller's Theory 1 minuet. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Filling up the tank,
more than $30 now, dinner for my NEC charges $178 including tip, and other sundry things. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I learned to play baseball in Mike and Pete Gray's backyard when I was
6, and as is usual for kids, when they put you in the game, they expect you to know already how it is
played. I recall being 2nd baseman, fielding a grounder, and throwing it back to the pitcher, and then
excoriated for not throwing it to first. Later, the little games happened in our "way back" yard, which was
surrounded by fields and trees, so foul balls and home runs involved a lot of rooting through vegetation to
get the ball back. Once I recall being hit in the forehead by a line drive and not flinching, thus proving that
I had a hard head. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
Not exactly cute, but Cammy starts trying to wake me up when the birds start to sing, which is around 5.
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: endoctology (obviously a medical term referring to something so
secret we don't even know if we spelled it right). RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE The 1990s fad for distressed type was all my fault. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: McCain gets actual scrutiny by the press. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,191. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.59 at Cumberland Farms
in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE whatever McCain is eating, a trial size of Scope mouthwash, a bone that didn't get cut out
of a salmon filet, distant lightning that brings back moments from your childhood, but not good ones.
The grammar of noticeability was formulated after years of chocolate research; we couldn't help laughing,
at the time, because Johnny's head kept turning into a pot, and that made the microwave oven smile a little
bit. So if we presume "ancillary" and "flapjack" are homonyms, we run into a classic case of poodle rot -which, on the one hand, enriches the Southern hemisphere, but on the other hand, makes pinkness seem
almost normal. The mosquito population reported a run on enhancedness, but when I asked my bicycle
where it had found that half-kitten, everything seemed to be shaped like parallelograms.
Dear reader, since the last update, my vacation ended and my vacation started. This is why I am a composer
-- I can embrace, and lovingly so, apparent contradictions, and turn them into contradistinctions. I want to
rub it all over my body.
So after that screamingly fast Verizon FiOS was installed, and after I got sufficiently accustomed to having
it (i.e., I wasn't constantly logged on to breathe in the bandwidth as if it were going to disappear if I didn't
keep using it), my life went a little back to normal -- except for the part about making toll calls for free,
which also now happens on our phone line. I also called Earthlink to downgrade my service from DSL with
home networking ($40 + $10 and I'm pretty sure that extra 10 bucks was a ripoff) to e-mailbox and
webspace ($10). 768K DSL just wasn't doing it, and 20,000k FiOS actually costs LESS. As does the phone
bill, by the way, especially since caller ID was costing us nine bucks a month, and it's included in the new
package. Now there's something you don't see every day.
Aw, geez, I hate this stupid program. I had typed another four or five paragraphs after the ones above, saved
it, quit, and came back to find those paragraphs missing in action. Which makes me mad. And -- that which

follows was added after the first posting of News, and that ain't just whistlin' Dixie. Friday morning of
vacation week, I awoke and noticed that way up on my right leg, maybe two inches below the, uh,
buttcheek, I had a big pimple that I'd never noticed before. Pulling the pimple revealed that it was a tick,
which had probably gotten onto me during our walk through the nature preserve the previous weekend, and
that's a big eeew. It wasn't one of the teeny ones that carries disease, but it was small and the consistency of
a little raisin -- basically the same sort of thing I pulled off of Cammy several weeks earlier. I did the "eww,
gross!" thing and tossed it on the floor, but then came to my senses, found it, and put it on the nightstand
for a proper viewing. Then it locomoted a little with its teeny-weeny legs, and I immediately brought it to
the outdoor trash bin. Subsequent examinations of the scar reveal no bullseye or lingering poopiness. That's
nutty!
So let's see, what did I report next? Um... um, ... crap. Well, okay, once I got used to the gorgeous weather
and fast internet, I got back on the etude-writing horse -- this being the week of tragically imperfect
metaphors. I had gotten stuck in my brain (or between my teeth, I forget which) a simple repeated note
figure with a chromatic wedge (i.e. getting louder and then softer). And I thought I might try to write a
piano etude that started out as if it were going to be minimalist, but then turns into anything but (anything
but minimal, but not literally anything -- I don't think puddle geometry would be in bounds here. Imperfect
metaphors, people. Hello, is this thing on? If you've read this far into the paragraph, then you must be
invested in its outcome, so here goes....breathing inward....). So the dynamic wedges overlap and a few
simple polyrhythms get layered in, and often one hand has to do independent wedges for two contrapuntal
voices, and I exerted enough self-control to get at least 75 seconds of music before the chord changes. After
which it changes a lot faster, blah blah blah. And then the final cadential chord and its figures just keep
repeating, keep repeating, keep repeating. Because it's not what I do, but it is what I did. I came up with a
title that is now officially the third goofiest in the etude canon: What's Hairpinning. I didn't even consider
the title "Wedge Issue", because I only just thought of it right now, but that just goes to show you -- see
blue link on the left. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.
So very soon after I finished the wedge piece, Beff arrived, cats in hand (I'm speaking figuratively, or
perhaps metaphorically here) for the weekend, and stuff was done by us -- including Beff catching up on 2
episodes of Top Chef (in which she is invested, but I'm on the sidelines), watching 30 Rock on
SCREAMING FAST internet, taking walks in the cooler weather, and having good food cooked by Davy.
And then back she went. I want to rub it all over my body.
So the teaching week included the last day of classes WOO FRIGGIN HOO, which was Wednesday, but I
went in, and went in very early, all five days that week. For you see, with sunrise coming so early now and
the birds beginning to sing at 4:20 (believe me, I know), Cammy gets restless and tries to wake up Davy
around 5ish most mornings now -- which means I tended to succumb around 5:30 every morning and I got
to work very, very early. So on Monday I looked at Seunghee's new piece, did theory, set up minuet
consultation times, drove to NEC and had my last meetings with Travis, Miriam and Jeff, and back I came.
Tuesday was a day of many minuet consultation meetings -- oh, rooting out that bad voice leading is very
taxing. Wednesday included doughnuts and orange juice for Theory 1 as well as the usual lessons for the
grad composition seminar. Thursday was a day of neither classes nor exams, but there I was doing my
Thursday teaching to make up for one of the days I was in North Carolina. Friday was a day of Derek J's
PhD oral and many more minuet consultations. Meanwhile, Geoffy was here practically all week and I saw
him but once, for about a half hour, on Monday night. Now there's something you don't see every day.
Beff got in Friday night, just about in time for dinner, which was salmon burgers from Whole Foods (half
the size of what they give you). It was cool again, but we did our exercise, and Beff watched the Kentucky
Derby while I made KILLA salmon with garlic aioli, and schedules were such that Beff could stay until
VERY early Monday morning. And we were both out the door by 6, eww. That's nutty!
On Monday I went in for a generic block of office hours for any students who wanted last minute minuet
consultation advice -- thus bringing my EXTRA office hours for this project in this eight-day block to
fourteen. I had some clients, and when I was done it was warm-ish. So home I came, and bike ride I did.
Meanwhile I noticed on New Music Box that it was HAYES'S BIRTHDAY, so I e-mailed him, and then
decided to do a chromatic, Wagnerian harmonization of Happy Birthday (can I say that on TV?) -- which I

arranged for string quartet and sent to Hayes immediately. The string quartet thing was because the Lyds
were going to be doing the Theory 1 minuet readings the next day and hey, why not get them to read this
thing? What's the point of having power if you can't abuse it? The blue "Hazed and Confused" link is the
score, the green one the reading. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.
Meanwhile, also on Monday, I finally got a CD from the Chamber Choir's performance of my 32-year-old
SATB piece. Over on the left, the blue "Sonnet 22" link is the score and the green one the performance. You
can certainly hear that I was listening to Hindemith in 1976, and had read through, at the piano, "The
Swan" from "Six Chansons" right around then. I want to rub it all over my body.
And woo hoo! Got up real early Tuesday again (thanks, Cammy! You are a cat! I'm not! Woo hoo!), bided
time till the quartet readings, and little by little shepherded the student from both theory sections into the
performance hall, where the Lyds were already rehearsing. I forced them to read Hazed and Confused while
I checked the levels on my Edirol (I called it the "Ice Breaker" on my schedule for the readings). And then
the Lyds did splendiforously, reading through 26 or 27 (I didn't count) final projects. And as usual, the
students who had five weeks worth of worry wrinkles on their faces from this project, started grinning from
ear to ear. Even the imperfect ones sounded fantastic in the readings, and the very, very good ones seemed,
in context, transcendent (meaning ... they go from cend to cend?). I also took Flip Videos of five of the
minuets. Immediately afterwards I burned all the Edirol sound files onto one CD, which I gave to one
student to share, as it were, and when I got home I put the video files onto some CDs, made a bunch of
audio discs of the raw readings, edited a few of those in my section, converted them to mp3, and e-mailed
them. Now there's something you don't see every day.
And Wednesday. Ah, Wednesday, last day of everything WOO FRIGGIN HOO which was, nonetheless,
very long. I saw my three Wednesday students for makeup lessons and also did Yohanan's PhD oral. After
which I drove to NEC and parked, walked around a bit in the warm, and took Travis, Miriam and Jeff out to
Legal Seafoods in the Pru for dinner. Jokes were told (including one with the punch line "Artie Chokes
Three for a Dollar at Whole Foods"), I came back, and here I am today. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is
working.
This morning I had planned to sleep in. Cammy's idea was otherwise. I got up at the luxurious time of 6:10,
had breakfast, did some food shopping, took my bike ride (second Gropius house in West Concord), nagged
Maynard Door and Window about the ramp to the shed, and here I am. So it's been a boring two weeks, but
there's been plenty of STUFF in them. So there. I want to rub it all over my body.
In the meantime -- with regard to the future. I got confirmation that I WILL be writing a piece for a
"composers respond to jazz" series at Merkin Hall, and it's for string quartet, woodwind quintet, and piano.
Or as I've been saying, "half a Mozart orchestra, and the half that doesn't blend". To that end, I've
downloaded a bunch of woodwind quintet recordings from iTunes, and it seems the engineers on those
recordings have solved the intractible dilemma of the non-blending nature of the woodwind quintet -- by
utilizing tons and tons of reverb. I'm hoping Merkin Hall will have that available. I also have been given the
rest of the program (which is May 30, 2009, by the way), which seems to think tango qualifies as jazz
(well, it may as well). So that's my big summer project. I want to rub it all over my body.
And going through the calendar for the summer, it became strangely apparent that I've got nearly no free
days between Brandeis commencement and the first day of classes. Cool. But do know, dear reader, that I
WILL, for the first time ever, be attending both big commencement and mini-commencement at Brandeis
on the 18th. And wearing that cool black with a few orange stripes robe that Beff bought after her Princeton
graduation. Because it is what we do. Now there's something you don't see every day.
For tonight, I am having a grilled salmon filet, and tonight I am trying, for the first time, a McCormick's
Cajun sauce for it. Kind of as an experiment. If all goes well, it will join the rotation of possible salmon
stuff. I also bought some more salmon at Stop & Shop this morning and a lemon-something aioli sauce, for
future experimentation. So summer is here, summer is here, summer is here. Excellent, so my nefarious
plan is working.

So I didn't take any regular pictures the last couple of weeks. So just before starting this -- and just before
the sun came out for good after a bit of morning rain -- I took pictures outside. So here's what these
EXTREMELY FRESH AND NATURAL pictures are: The kitties out and about, doing the fresh and natural
thing; the apple tree sculpture and its current environment; the current state of the rhubarb; the quince bush;
some out-of-focus white flowers by the garage; the current state of the asparagus I planted last May (Mindy
Wagner asks if it is mutant asparagus -- because it's so tall); and the new computer, as it appears in the
computer room. Bye.

MAY 27. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice
and coffee. Lunch yesterday was a few pieces of leftover shish kebab, served cold like
revenge. Dinner last night was chicken skewers, broccoli, and salad. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 36.7 and 80.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS
I TYPE THIS "Hayesed and Confused", strangely enough. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST
TWO WEEKS Filling up the tank, more than $35 now, various shoppingness in
Vermont including $5.49 each for 8 bundles of firewood. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: I played for the Pirates in Midget League (9 and 10 year olds), and
was the starting shortstop. According to the coach, I batted .358. I hit plenty of
homers in batting practice, none in an actual game. One time I clearly threw out a
runner at first (you heard clop-thud, the "clop" being the ball landing in the mitt, very
clearly) but he was called safe. The first base ump who blew the call heard the kids
making fun of him and his incompetence, and he stormed away on his motorcycle in
protest. Somebody in the stands came in to finish the game umping at first. NUMBER
OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The cats loved
walking on the railing in the Vermont place, and never failed to look awkward or
pointless. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pinosco (apparently from the Neapolitan
dialect, and it was kind of a wild card word meaning anything from dented hat to
deranged wagon). RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST THREE WEEKS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My
blood type is A positive. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: It doesn't get cold in Vermont when I'm there. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 11,267. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.89 in Vermont and
$3.89 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT
THAN THE CURRENT ONE a frayed razor strop, the head of a pin after all the angels
have jumped off, a scordatura string, seven of those things you have to put away
right now, mister.
Without text, masochism doesn't make a world of difference, unless the cat found out
where I put the scissors. For you see, there had to be some leeway when we opened
the grass seed, and when I gave coffee to the smurfs, they started to realize that
branching is what you do when you have a cold. By the way, if I hadn't already made
some gastrointestinal calculations, I would have had to find a bird to give my
whoopee cushion to, so I'm glad we didn't find the dandelion where the car had been
idling for so long.
Dear reader, 19 days since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. Spring and
summer activity commenced here, including full mowing of all the lawns (despite the
brownness of some of it, due apparently to grubs) and weeding of the asparagus -though there's been no picking of the asparagus. I am waiting until next year to
harvest our Mindy-agus, and this year it's just flowering and all that. Indeed, right
now the rhododendrons and our canopy-like bushes are flowering, and the lilacs
continue to bloom. And our super-mod former apple tree sculpture continues to be in
the back yard. I want to rub it all over my nefarious plan.
So for many days after the last update, which was also many days after the Lydian

Quartet minuet readings, I had those minuets stuck in my head, likely because of the
super minuet glue that resides there -- extracting them from the raw recordings and
e-mailing the mp3s to the students does that for a fella, after all. Plus, I grudgingly
accepted a bunch of late homework, some of it egregiously so, and I didn't get my
grades in until Milton Babbitt's birthday. Milton, of course, could have cared less.
Excellent, so my body isn't something you see every day.
So after finally getting all the grading done, there was the Brandeis commencements
to go to -- a full commencement at 10:30 with super-mega projections, etc., as well
as a mini-commencement at 1:30 for the School of Creative Arts. I got to wear my full
Princeton regalia that Beff owns, and I was durned impressive-looking. CNN guy Bill
Schneider gave the commencement address, which ended, "we broke it, you fix it!",
and the Brandeis prez had to exit early for his own daughter's graduation in DC. In
between the two ceremonies I got a little roast beef sammich from the place next to
the Dry Cleaners, and got to watch all of our grads get their awards, etc. And
afterwards there was time spent on the driveway outside the theater building with
Rachel's family -- apparently Rachel's mom thinks I'm a famous composer, and I love
to spend time in the company of people who have that particular delusion. Rachel
also gave me a frog-piano type sculpture commissioned to commemorate the time
we spent putting her musical into shape. It's now got an honored place next to my
bobblehead Schroeder on my office piano. Now there's something nefarious I want to
rub.
After graduation I got home, we had salmon, and we packed for the next week to be
spent at the Vermont place. It's always fun trying to make it look normal to the cats,
who always suspect that we're going to put them in carrying cases whenever we
seem to be moving a lot of stuff around, and in this case they were right. Once Sunny
actually hid in the pump organ for such an occasion, so this time we simply shut
them on the porch before putting them in the carriers, we packed the car, and off we
went. While it was about 65 and hazy in Maynard, by the time we got to Burlington it
was 52 and rainy, and it was not soon to exceed that temperature. Excellent, so my
rub is a nefarious plan.
The sun went in and out over the first few days there, and we spent most of our time
indoors -- in my case with a blanket being worn as a cape -- but when it got a little
nicer we took out some bicycles and rode along the Burlington bike path, very
nearby. When we first arrived, of course, a lot of the place had yet to be summerready, and of course we couldn't find the cat litter box we had left there last August
and that meant an immediate trip to Ace Hardware to get a cheap one (and boy was
it cheap). Much later in the week we located the proper box, but too late, my friends,
too late. And I'm sure the cats were embarrassed to be pooping in a purple box. After
that, I took a shopping trip to Hannafords to get our lunches and dinners for the next
several days while Beff cleaned and mopped and cleaned some more. Our only night
out was that first night, and we went to the Vermont Brew Pub for an early dinner -- I
had hefeweizen and Altbier, salad, and Buffalo wings with extra hot sauce. I want to
plan to rub it nefariously.
And then while weather forecasts kept promising more springlike temperatures for
Thursday and Friday, they didn't really come until late Saturday and especially
Sunday. Nonetheless, we took more bike rides and walks, played with the cats a lot,
lounged, used our computers on what turned out to be very fast wi-fi (even faster
than our FiOS, apparently), and goofed off. Beff did do some work on a video and
instruments piece, but I didn't do any actual work except to make some handouts for
Music 5, which I'm teaching in the fall. Which, in some small way, qualified the trip as
a business trip. I usually cooked on the grill outdoors -- pineapple, salmon, chicken,

hamburgers, even hot dogs -- and in the morning got to use the ELECTRIC stove. And
then it was time to goof off some more. The only trips we took outside the compound
were one to downtown Burlington to see what was there (where we got grapefruit
paraphernalia, which I believe is legal in Vermont), and a drive to St. Albans,
ostensibly to go to Warner's for lunch, but since it was Sunday it was closed. A snack
bar? Closed? On Memorial Day weekend? Say it ain't so! We did see a little of
downtown St. Albans, which now has a little arch, which brings you into ... a parking
lot. Why couldn't I have grown up in a real city? My excellent nefariousness is working
all over my body.
For the weekend, Beff's sister Ann and her high-school age son Jack came up, which
made cooking twice as bulky. Three of us did a Saturday bike ride -- in the SUN! -- and
a little chicken cookout, etc. And on Sunday it finally got warm. Into the upper 70s,
indeed. And our penalty for that was that while we were getting closer to nature, it
was getting closer to us. To wit, in the upstairs bedroom area, where Beff went to
practice the clarinet, many flying ants showed themselves -- it being the hot part of
the house -- and I personally killed between 40 and 50 of them with my flip-flops. It
was a time of desperate need for heroes, and I grudgingly filled those shoes. And our
nocturnal adventures included watching a lot of the fifth season of Angel, which I
found engrossing -- especially the episode called "Smile Time" in which Angel is
turned into a puppet. As Beff kept saying afterwards -- "Stupid hands. Stupid string."
My excellent body is working nefarious every day, so!
Yesterday was Memorial Day, and of course we had to re-pack, fool the cats into not
thinking they were going into boxes again, and we had a reasonably eventless drive
back to Maynard, a reasonably eventless bike ride to Boon Lake and back, and a
reasonably eventless cooking of dinner, etc. As usual, it was nice to be back with my
STUFF, and as usual, I had a pile of letters to write. Still do. Today I already went to
pick up the held mail (unimpressive), Beff picked up and went to Bangor for meetings
and to meet with a guy doing work on THAT house, and shortly (he shoulda been here
by now), our chimney is to be cleaned. Then I'll need to to a bike ride, and to take the
car to a car wash -- pollen, dontcha know. And then the summer goes into hyperdrive.
I want to be excellent to see every nefarious day.
Tomorrow, off to Chicago, stay with Amy, make etude movies (check YouTube to see if
I post any new ones). Come back Saturday. Sunday, to New York, give Marilyn the toy
piano. Monday to Wednesday, recording sessions. Back Thursday. Friday, Mary and
Mike arrive, leave the following Tuesday. Then I might have a day. Then to New York
again, back, I become exactly half a century long (timewise), Ken's party, and I go to
Italy. Where I might FINALLY get the time to start my piece -- for which I still have no
usable or non-usable ideas. So there, smarty pants.
Today's pictures include a super-closeup of blossoms on one of our shrubs, Sunny
making nice with a BIG piece of asparagus I picked in our back yard (an old
asparagus, not a Mindy-agus), two views of the lake from the summer place, various
views inside the Vermont place, and the new arch in the city of St. Albans. Bye.

JUNE 9. Lunch today is supermarket sushi. Breakfast was orange juice and ice coffee.
Dinner last night was salmon fillets, asparagus, salad, apple pie, black and tan ice
cream from Ericksons, and much beer. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE
42.3 and 92.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A little bit of Mary's
piccolo demos, but it had been something else I can't identify. LARGE EXPENSES THIS
LAST TWO WEEKS Filling up the tank, more than $35 now, shopping in Chicago $47,
various dinners with Mike and Mary, ca. $70, down payment on new siding,

$15,741.50. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When the family had a tent

trailer, we got into the pattern of camping at the Island Pond campsites every year; in
the latter part of this tradition, we had the "extra room" that zips onto the side of the
sleeper part of the tent trailer, where we could sit and read while it rained. Every year
we went I'd go to campsite 29 and yell to hear echoes and was hoarse the rest of the
week. It was at the Island Pond beach where I first learned how to float, and quickly
thereafter how to swim -- after having taking a summer's worth of swimming lessons
and never getting beyond "rhythmic breathing". NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST
WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: With the hot weather, they sleep at the end
of the bed and get all stretchy. Sunny likes to jump for dragonflies outside. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crumbot (origin obscure, but it means the gap between
threads on a screweye). RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7 (Fromm commissions). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE I was once on WVMT radio when waiting to meet Santa Claus in
Burlington, Vermont. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE:
Woodwind quintet is easy to write for. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,267. WHAT
I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.93 in Maynard, $4.25 in Connecticut, $3.97 in
Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN
THE CURRENT ONE brass knuckles, a collection of baby pictures that includes a lock
of hair, some of the pollen running down the side of the back windshield, the time
spent waiting for the next distant clap of thunder.
Instead of gyrating with our cupcakes, we found the place inside my head that makes
motor oil seem less expensive -- so that meant we could spell the word
"intransigence" any way we wanted to, although when we told that to the police they
had to scratch their elbows. On the way to the bend, we found some meaning in the
way that the Philips head screwdrivers uncorked their big ones, so we stopped and
made philosophical pie.
Dear reader, I was just at Brandeis, for reasons to be explained later, and I was
confronted by one of my colleagues for not having recently updated here. It was
suggested that I put in a link to "Nag Davy About His Blog", but I think that's too hard
to do with this cheap software, not to mention kind of silly. But one thing is for
certain. This is the last update until the end of July, since I will be way, way away for
the better part of valor, and for the better part of the intervening time. Which I find to
be nutty.
Hey, it's even less than two weeks since the last one! So I average pretty goodly
here. So what I bain doing? Stuff! Some of it nutty stuff! The day OF the last update, I
did my update. Beff went to Maine and conferred with the guy doing work on that
house (who also plays trumpet in the Bangor Symphony, and that's something I want
to rub over my whole body). Meanwhile, the next morning I up and drove real early to
the airport for a 6:30 flight. Alas, by 2:50 I was wide awake, so a bit of cleaning up
was done in the dark, and so on, and then I drove to the tune of precious little traffic,
and parked at the airport. Then, guess what -- I got on a plane! Yes, an Airbus 320 to
Chicago, after which I got on the CTA and got off in the loop at Jackson, where Amy D
(Amy B-D, really) picked me up. I was there so we could work together on the 24
toods she was to record the following week. Amy' has a silver Cooper Mini, and I rode
in it. The dashboard is futuristic -- or at least it's big -- and in the time I spent waiting
to be picked up, I got some packs of giant Smarties at a little Walgreens across from
Chicago City Hall. Because it's what I do.
Amy had 3 hours worth of piano students that day, of all sizes and abilities, and I was
amused to hear a bit of stuff from the Denes Agay Joy of Jazz and Joy of Boogie
Woogie books I played from when *I* was a kid ("haul it 'cross the river 'fore the boss

comes 'round" stuck in my head). Amy was sort of amazingly energetic in these
lessons -- and me? I was in the dining room, web surfing, doing e-mail, etc., on my
Mac Book Pro. Amy cooked, and it was all good -- including some pizza with clams
and clam sauce. On my second day there, we made a shop to Treasure Island, which
was pretty much a deluxe little Stop and Shop that billed itself as America's "most
European" supermarket. Which apparently was not the decor, but how far the dollar
went there. Rim shot. I got myself snacking pickles, olives, more big Smarties, etc.
and even lemon juice. Why? Because I could. I even got Temptations cat treats! Why?
Because it's something you don't see every day. Incidentally, it happened that on the
way to the supermarket we passed Obama's house. Cool.
On Thursday Amy had no students and on Friday just two. So we spent that time
video-recording 21 of the toods on the Flip, and I learned the new incarnation of
iMovie that ships with Leopard on Intel Macs. The interface was not what I was used
to, but this version has options to upload directly to YouTube, and since that was my
intent with these videos, that's how I did it. You can see these movies by clicking on
the blue links down and to the left (20 on one page, another (Third in the Hand) on
the second page). During my time there I bonded with the cats (Ranjith and Reena),
who make a few cameo appearances in the videos (especially Rick's Mood, Accents of
Malice and Pink Tab). Much of our recording time was actually spent editing the
videos and figuring out the "project" format in the software, but lots were up there by
the time I went back Saturday morning. Much time was spent with the windows open,
so traffic noise and birds are also occasionally evident in the videos.
We got up *very* early for my 7 am flight, and even with non-weekday traffic, there
was at least one construction delay near O'Hare airport, but otherwise, I was there in
plenty of time. My parking cost $84, and I hightailed it out of Logan to home. Geoffy
was here when I got back, since he was in town for a gig, and the three of us went to
the Blue Coyote in Maynard for lunch. It was very good. It was also threatening to
rain, so I up and mowed as much lawn as I could before it started, and it turned out
that before the afternoon was done, I got it ALL mowed. That's a big job, especially if
you are a chipmunk. Which I am not. That night we had grilled salmon, and what it is,
too.
Sunday was the next leg of this complicated summer, and after breakfast and
packing, I put the older Schoenhut toy piano in the car along with its bench, got in
the car, and off I went. To New York. For you see, I was going to New York for the tood
sessions, and the first stop was Marilyn's NYU office to give her said toy piano. It was
finally quite warm out, and sunny, so it was a good drive overall, though it was four
hours door-to-door, once you factored in three stops, including one for gas.
Immediately I took a circuitous route back to the west side (circuitous because who
knows what's up with those Greenwich Village streets?), got on the West Side
highway and was in Bronxville with Hayes and Susan before 5. When Hayes got back
from wherever he was, I took them to dinner in Bronxville at an Asian fusion
restaurant, followed by a beer at a sports bar (the Yankees were playing, and the
game was on two monitors, though about 5 seconds later in one monitor than in the
other. That's nutty!).
Next morning I up and got on the 7:46 train from Bronxville and went with Susan, we
exited Grand Central in the back, and I got me a sandwich and lemonade for $11 at
Pret-a-Manger. I was kind of early, so I walked around a bit, then got on the 1, and got
off at 157th Street, because we were recording at the American Academy of Arts and
Letters, Broadway and 154th. I hadn't been in that area since the June '03 sessions,
and more is now there -- including McDonalds (coffee) and subway ($5 instead of $11
for lunch), so I made note. Amy was there and ready to roll, and the tuner yielded the

piano -- a much, much gorgeous one -- around 9:50. Amy warmed up, Judy Sherman
soundchecked, and we started to roll. We started with "Pedal to the Metal" and did
several of the easy slow ones that day, ending up with 11 in the can by 4:50 when we
quit. During the day, I had to swat at least (actually, exactly) one flie, midair, with my
flip flop. Otherwise it would have gotten into the hall and onto the recording. After
that I did dinner at Charley O's (must to have Buffalo wings, I said to myself, and then
I did) and got back to Bronxville, alas, on a peak train (more money). Then I bonded
some more with Rasia and Fritz, the cats with five-letter names. And at night it got
strangely cold.
For Tuesday, I took the 8:15 train instead, got on the S to Times Square, took the 1,
stood in line forever at MacDonald's waiting for coffee, which they put into a paper
bag, which broke a block and a half away from MacDonald's, and some coffee got on
my flip flops, but most of it got on the sidewalk. Crap. Then I got a roast beef sub at
Subway and was ready for Day 2. Which ended by a little after 3 with only four left to
go the next day. I had scheduled a dinner with Harold Meltzer that night, and a
tentatively also with Mindy Wagner, and when I got downtown to a bar with wi-fi, I
had an e-mail from Mindy asking if we were on, and I called her. Harold had already
done so, so we were ready. Mindy and I met at Manhattan School and Harold cabbed
up to us, and we ate at a new (new since 1994, at least) Asian Fusion place next to
Ollie's across from Columbia. And giggle we did, very much, and heartily so. Mindy
was very nice to give me a ride back to Bronxville -- which she was glad to do 'cause
it meant she got to see her old 'hood from the early days of her marriage -- and when
I got back I bonded with Rasia and Fritz, the cats with five-letter names.
Wednesday was a short day, and the early part of the schedule was the same as
Tuesday's. All that was left was four of the trickiest ones -- including Wound Tight
(Judy pronounced "Wound" to rhyme with "tuned") and Absofunkinlutely, and we got
them in in record time. Absofunkinlutely had to be saved for last because it is so bass
heavy that when Amy ran it on Monday there was no definition in the counterpoint
(and yes, dear reader, I am one of those composers who uses counterpoint, which
doesn't get me into any bars for free. Yet). So we made it last so that the
microphones could be moved closer to get more piano sound as compared to room
and echo sound. Meanwhile, I made Flip videos of Absofunkinlutely, Stutter Stab, and
Moody's Blues and got Jeanne "d'Arc" Velonis to burn me CDs of the takes I videoed -those I put together when I got back, and are now the first three in the "New etude
YouToobs" page. So when we finished, I simply trained it to Grand Central to
Bronxville and drove home, arriving just before 5. We had salmon fillets for dinner,
and they were good. And more was yet to come.
For on Friday, Mike and Mary were coming. Mike and Mary who, you might ask, and I
would have an answer -- the Gli Uccelli people, getting maried in Breckenridge,
Colorado this month, I am writing her some pieces, and Mary got a travel grant to
come here, drink beer, and show me the cool stuff she likes to play on flute. So
anyway, their plane was late, which meant that it was too late for me to meet them
for dinner, but they nonetheless had dinner at Watch City in Waltham, and drove
there in their CONVERTIBLE rental -- an upgrade they got because Mike guessed the
number of peanuts in a jar at the rental car place. And meanwhile, Beff was in New
York for an ACA festival. And by the way, feel free to listen to Mike and Mary (and
Nathanael May) doing the premiere of Gli Uccelli, blue link to the left and above.
So in the absence of Beff, it was up to me to drive to their hotel (Homestead, in Hotel
Hell in Waltham) to meet them on Saturday and show them the way to Brandeis,
where Mike had to practice (the piano). Then Mary and I came to Maynard, with a
detour to Staples and Trader Joe's, to make flip videos of the stuff she so digs playing

on the flute, piccolo, and alto flute. And by the way, apparently she only owns a
piccolo because I wrote for it in Gli Uccelli. Which is totally nutty. So we made our
movies, Mary enjoyed the relaxing apparatuses we have, including the Adirondack
chairs, gazebo and hammock, and we also took a short bike ride on the Assabet rail
trail path. When Mike arrived, convertible (metaphorically) in hand, we went to the
Blue Coyote so Mary could have some clam chowder, then did the sightseeing drive -including Bolton Farms, where I got me some spicy pickles, and they got apple pie,
etc. We saw scenic things in Harvard, looked at graveyards, and came home, after
which we walked to downtown Maynard for Thai. And Beff got home late that night.
Yesterday was another day, and Mike did some practicing on the Klavinova, Mary ran
on the bike path, we had some light lunch, and then they went to do the
Transcendentalist tourism day -- the Alcott House, Concord burial ground, Walden
Pond, Emerson's house, Hawthorne house, and all that stuff. When they came back,
they took the bikes for a short ride, and then had salmon and asparagus and salad
and apple pie for dinner. And meanwhile, it has been rather hot. Yes, hot. Yes, yes,
HOT.
Today is their last full day here, and the morning is spent with them practicing at
Brandeis. I went in to make more movies of Mary -- I had some questions about
tongue rams and double tonguing and slap tonguing, and we made movies in
Slosberg Hall, Slosberg 212 and Slosberg 227. Later today Beff and I are meeting
them in the North End at Forno Antico, where we plan on dinner. We also plan on
buying some Amaro in one of the liquor stores, so there, nosy. Tomorrow Mike and
Mary leave, and it's on to the next big things. Details shortly. So check out the green
"Mary's Demos" link for some excerpts from the movies we made.
Ah. And later this week, some pieces at Mannes, so I'm going back to NYC where I'm
bound to bind with the five-letter cats again, as well as their five-letter owners. As I
drive back from NYC I will turn fifty. And then there's a big party for Ken's hiring on
Saturday, and I go to Italy the following Tuesday. All of which is totally nutty.
And meanwhile, it is now known that I am writing for the North Country Chamber
Players, a kid's piece, in Franconia, New Hampshire. Not sure how that's going to take
shape, but everything is now in place. Now it's time to think of responding to jazz
(Beff thinks it just consists of saying, in an Ed Norton voice, "Hello, jazz!", and so far
that's all I've got. But as I point out each of the three or so times per day Beff tells
that joke, that's addressing jazz, not responding to it). Ah, to go to Italy to respond to
jazz. It's what we do. Oh yes.
I just bicycled to Maynard Door and Window in the HOT to give them the down
payment for our new siding, colored Pelican, to be installed in August. We're on our
way.
Today's pix begin with an extreme closeup of the some of our pitiful lilac bush from
before I went Chicagowards -- all the rest relate to the NYC recording sessions. First,
the mike and piano placements, me and Judy Sherman wearing each other on our tshirts on Tuesday, three shots of Amy in the hall, and the recording setup with Jeanne
"d'Arc Nouvelle" Velonis in the green room. Bye.
JUNE 16 update missing

JULY 30. Breakfast was Boca meatless breakfast sausages, orange juice, and candy-flavored coffee ick.

Dinner last night was airplane food ( "vegetarian pasta" concoction that seemed to be macaroni and cheese
with mushy zucchini skins). Lunch was airplane food (come to think of it, nothing counted as lunch -- I
turned down a Swiss Air ice cream packlet). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 50.2
and 98.8 (about 52 and 102 in Italy). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI
of the first movement of "Stolen Moments". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST SIX WEEKS Service fees
on Italian ATMs, 1 percent plus $5, service fee to convert Euros to dollars, scrummy Italian foodstuffs and
ceramics, $$variable. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In art class in eighth grade, I was a
slightly better-than-average student -- Steve Salerno, who was to go into a career in art, always was the cool
guy -- but I totally nailed one assignment, which was a drawing of a face in profile. Apparently I did a good
nose -- because my grade on the assignment (how can you grade an eighth grader on art??) was A+ double
weight -- as in, it was so good it counted twice towards the final grade. That's the only time I ever got that
grade, and I have so far resisted the temptation to give that grade to the best of my own students. NUMBER
OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They were very glad to see
us, and snuggled in bed. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Agrippaly. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST SIXWEEKS: 2 (e-mailed from Italy, of course).
FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I never got braces. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Conductors perform for free. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 12, 067. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $0, but I did have to pay 30 Euro
cents per kilometer when using the Civitella car, or share it; and the cost of gas there now is 1.54 Euros per
liter, or around $8 a gallon. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a digital stopwatch that doesn't go beyond one minute, a two
and two-thirds foot organ stop, Swiss cheese without holes in it, a disembodied voice that only speaks in
riddles.
No nonsense paragraph to begin this update. Flageolet!
I am back from a glorious and glamorous six-week stay at the Civitella Ranieri Foundation in Umbertide,
Italy. I am quite pressed for time, since there is much to accomplish -- including mowing all the lawns -before I head to Vermont for the month of August this afternoon. So I will be uncharacteristically brief.
Civitilla is a one-group-at-a-time residency, meaning everyone comes in at once and leaves at once. In the
case of this place, that puts a lot of burden on the staff and the interns to fetch people at airports and bus
stations. Indeed, after a 12-hour flying odyssey, it was up to me to a) find Chika Unigwe at the airport, who
was also a Fellow (she found me), b) wait two and a half hours for the bus to Perugia, c) find the bus, d) get
on the bus, and e) stay on the bus for three and three-quarter hours before being picked up by THE MAN,
Diego. Because of the remoteness of the location, others had similarly complicated travel things to sort out.
But there we were, in a very beautiful location anchored around a locally well-known 16th century castle
with nothing but time to work and time to get over jet lag.
It did help that the food was pretty great -- certainly the best among all the (26) residencies I have done,
and considering it's competing with the glory days of Bellagio and Bogliasco, that's saying a lot. In 42
dinners there were no repeats, and the last meal was --- rabbit. Which I found out I don't dislike as much as
I thought. There were 5 writers, 3 visual artists and 3 composers, and as soon as we learned each other's
names, we did the king of bonding that happens naturally from sharing meals and trips. Oh yes, trips. The
Foundation organized several day trips and half-day trips for us to tour parts of Umbria and Tuscany, and
the ones I went on included Spello (Pinturicchio exhibit), Bevagna (medieval festival including dinner
outside at picnic tables), Deruta (the ceramics capital of Italy), Norcia (truffles, sausage, cheese),
Castelluccio (the pian' grande and a big valley of poppies, saffron and violets), and the southern Tuscany
trip including Montepulciano, Pienza, and the Barbi winery in Montalcino (free wine tasting including the
2003 Brunello, nothing about which to write home). Klaus came for a weekend, with car, so we also did
Assisi and San Marino -- San Marino being a micro-country within Italy, very scenic (I saw the
Mediterranean!), and a good chance to get a good pizza.
More importantly, after settling down, everyone seems to have accomplished quite a bit of their own work
-- thought the Scrabble contingent was long on influence and short on the ability to get ME to join in. I was
on a strict measures-per-day regimen given my deadline (a "responds to jazz" piece for Merkin Hall for

next May 30), and some days that took me till dinner and even after dinner. There were also various
presentations, and I believe every fellow did one (mine was July 17, and it was the abbreviated piano
concerto spiel); they made the end of the work day 5 pm, since they included cocktail receptions and
invitations to the locals to come.
So I got there and took two days to get over the jet lag -- arriving Toozday night, and sleeping in on
Thursday till noon -- after which point I finally had to start my Merkin Hall piece -- string quartet,
woodwind quintet and piano. I had been so busy doing other stuff in June that I hadn't thought of a thing for
this piece, and when it was time, I settled down in my studio (the former piggery, which had a bedroom and
kitchen as well, and was remote from the castle) and promptly used my head to remove plaster from the
walls while I racked (wracked?) my brain for things to do in this piece. So as is my custom, I took the
opportunity to write a piano etude, instead (see link below), on a little fading repeated note idea that had
been rattling around for a while. That I wrote in two days, and while I was just walking from one end of the
studio to another, finally a few ideas for the Merkin Hall piece were in evidence. And on Sunday I started
that piece in earnest.
So while there I cranked out 3 movements lasting 18 minutes (fast, slow, tango) and 120 bars of a finale
(be-bop, sorta). See the links below. I plan on working on the finale while in Vermont, but there is precious
little time to do that there, given my schedule (to Utah Sunday to Thursday) and our entertaining schedule
(Hayes and Susan, five days, woo hoo!), etc. And we settled into a routine. Occasional walks into
Umbertide for the Wednesday open air markets -- that walk was a half hour, through fields and stuff, and
there was precious little shade, and occasional drives to the Co-Op for groceries. Gotta say, the Gouda
cheese was quite good, as well as the green plums and the pre-ripe versions of the red plums. Also, I tried
out some wine that comes in plastic containers that went for about 2 dollars a liter, and it all sucked.
Lunch was at 1 and served in stacked tin containers that we had to clean out ourselves after eating -- it was
called the one thing they did to humble us. And so it did. The other composers were Beth Custer -- who
wrote a terrific film score for a 1928 silent film from Georgia (then in the Soviet Union) and was a blonde
clarinet player besides (just like another Beth I know) -- and Norio Fukushi, a senior eminence from Japan
who nonetheless got into being silly with the rest of us. Norio spoke no English or Italian, so we
communicated with our high school French with him -- and he played 3 really cool pieces in his
presentation, very nicely scored. Norio also learned how to clap with one hand and to stick things to his
forehead (a lot of people learn that when I'm around, it would appear).
In the last week of the residency, spouses and partners were allowed, at their own expense (Civitella paid
all my travel. Woo hoo!) and Beff came last Tuesday, getting right into the swing of things. She came on
the southern Tuscany wine tour, and then had a combo heat rash with allergy and broke out into some hives
on her arms and legs, so we had to stay out of the sun for the last several days. I used that development to
stay in the studio and actually work on that finale thing, so we both got plenty of work done. And the last
Sunday night, the two Beths played clarinet duets before dinner to rousing applause and scenic
surroundings.
We got back after a fairly eventless trip back -- though the really tall thunderstorm packages we flew
around were a wonder to behold from 39,000 feet -- and Beff lost her parking voucher in the Rome airport
(we think), which meant we paid for 7 days parking instead of 8. We got in last night around 8:45, and I
immediately indulged one of the things I missed in Italy -- by getting cheeseburgers at MacDonalds. Which
doesn't count as dinner. I then wolfed down some dill pickles. And we did laundry, and showered, and,
and ...
Time has run out, as it's time for the post office, pharmacy, mowing, etc. Next update is late August. Be
good, and don't eat anything that says "I am random" on it.
The pix are from the Civitella experience, as follows. My studio; the tourist's-eye view of the Civitella
castle; the castle viewed from afar (it's at the far left); big fields of sunflowers nearby; a scene from the top
of a church in Montepulciano; the piano grande; Chika and Gabeba posing in Norcia; the Tuscany group

listening to a talk about Pienza by Nick and Jessica; chicken jugs; and a big church in the main square of
Montepulciano. Bye.
AUGUST 26. Breakfast was Boca meatless breakfast wraps (now squarely placed in
the eww-why'd-I-buy-these folder), orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was delivery
"rustic" pizza from Papa Gino's (Domino's left the buildin'). Lunch was half a Subway
roast beef sub. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 47.8 and 86.5. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First edit of "Crazy Eights", a white
key/black key, all-in-octaves etude. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS
Gasoline, cost of renovations in Maine, anniversary dinner with Hayes and Susan
($250) and a bottle of 2001 Brunello ($70). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I
spent just a few weeks on the track team in high school my sophomore year, having
worked a bit on the high jump (I sucked, but so did everyone else in my high school)
and the 100-yard dash. I competed in precisely one race in a heat of the 100-yard
dash, and came in third in my heat, clocking in at 12.3 seconds. Good for a football
player, not as good for a short-distance runner. I didn't do the high jump. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They didn't sleep on
the bed much in Vermont, but certainly do here in Maynard. And Cammy had a
proclivity for sitting on the music I was writing, while I was trying to write it. UPDATED
ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Home, Compositions, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: Pisenello, an obscure northern Italian word referring to pea-shaped objects
that lack a soul but have purpleness to spare. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I got my first drivers license in graduate school, and
took the test in a Karmann Ghia. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: "Respectful" political campaigns. Ooh, ooh, and CNN and Fox News never
got off the drawing board. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,400. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.99 in Maynard, $3.82 in Burlington, $3.59 in Maynard.
OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE
CURRENT ONE the white space in both O's of the word "BOO" wherever it is found in
graffiti, the last bite of a popsicle that is about to melt off the stick, the abstract
quality of purpleness, four of the things that you said you'd never pay for.
Without mustard, the world would turn in the other direction, and you know what that
would do for the angst deeply rooted in squirrels. Yes, and in fact, without a doubt,
flashlight humor is making a comeback wherever Woody Woodpecker memorabilia
are sold -- so we took a side trip to some tree bark. But of course, when I say that,
what I really mean is the opposite of the same thing as the opposite of a cigarette. So
when duty calls, my head goes in every direction at once.
As I am wont to say, I am back! Between June 17 and yesterday I had spent no more
than 18 hours in this house (which is now a different color -- look at "Our House" on
this site in a few days for new pictures), 45 minutes of it typing right here, dear
reader, for your reading pleasure, or the opposite of it. And it's what they call in Italy
"fresca" outside -- kinda makes me want to drink a grapefruit and lemony fizzy
beverage. I am resisting the urge to do so.
So at the last update Beff and I had just returned from Italy and were Vermont-bound
and gagged. Beff actually had to go to U Maine first to do her "I am Beff and I play
the clarinet, tee hee" show for the U Maine summer high school camp, so I took the
cats and my stuff and established a beachhead at the place in Vermont, and I only
say "beachhead" because I love words with double h's in them that aren't
onomatopeoia. The cats were glad that when they were released from their
confinement, they were in a familiar place, and they immediately lobbied -- and

lobbied hard -- for cat treats. Which they got Oscar, they got. I set up my computer,
verified the wi-fi network, and got a-crackin'. Actually, I didn't -- for I was near the
beginning of the finale of my responds-to-jazz piece (wherein the strings had just
entered after a long opening piano solo -- ooohh, I do SO rock) and there was no
piano keyboard on which to write. Beff had to fetch it from the house in Bangor. So in
the first few days I did some bike rides, gave treats to the cats, and jumped up,
down, and sideways.
Soon Beff was to arrive with all the requisite accoutrements, and it got juicy and rainy
-- which was just depressing, BUT -- I got to work on my piece, and soon I wrote a
rockout fugato for the strings. And then I had to go to Utah. For you see, I am
beginning a five-year term on the Advisory Board of the Barlow Foundation, and they
meet for 3-1/2 days every year at the beginning of August to award the Barlow Prize
in Composition and the Barlow Foundation commissions. I pledged secrecy for the
deliberations and the process, so none of that will go here. But I can testify that all
those involved in the (very grueling) days of meetings were put up at a ski resort
outside of Provo called Snowbird, we were given one-bedroom apartments (two
rooms each -- I had 703 and 704 -- since some of the grunt work was done in the
rooms, the large amount of space was necessary), and we were fed at the resort's
restaurants 3 meals a day. Which got to be a bit much, since there was always lots of
food no matter where we went. In any case -- I did not know that the last-day
meeting was so short. And since I had chosen Jet Blue as my carrier (it goes to
Burlington AND to Salt Lake City -- did I mention Utah?), which had no afternoon
departures to New York, just a redeye, I ended up with a lot of time to kill after the
last meeting. So I took a tram up from the lodge (elevation 7900 feet) to the top
mountain (elevation 11,000 feet), got nice views, had lunch, walked around, took a
shuttle to the airport, and killed seven hours there. Wow.
Being that Snowbird is at high altitude, I had the usual sorts of altitude things that we
sea-levelers get, especially sinus headaches and mild vertigo. All was well after I left.
The flying itself on Jet Blue was fine, no bad turbulence or nuthin', and some of the
views were spectacular -- and it was quite impressive that, given how much rain
there's been in these parts this summer, I spied no cloud between Pennsylvania and
the Utah-Colorado border. Jet Blue itself, though, was a different story. Apparently
they are building a new terminal for themselves, but for now an old terminal is being
used that screams "the year is 1972!" which is far too small for the number of people
using it, and -- get this -- some of the flights leave from a remote location that
screams "the year is 1962 and this is where we load all the cargo!" to which you have
to take a shuttle bus from the, um, main terminal. Add to it that it takes 45 minutes
from leaving the gate to takeoff (JFK, dontcha k now), and I was pretty much ready
never to return to this abysmal airline. Though since they said a brand new sparkling
terminal of their own was to be in evidence by October, I might do them once more
again. Unless, of course, they stop flying to Burlington.
Nonetheless -- it was raining when I left Burlington and raining when I returned. By
then Beff was in full swing at the Vermont Youth Orchestra Summer Spectacular, and I
had a Burger King lunch on my drive back from the airport. The two are not related.
So our Vermont time began in earnest, and I got back to work on my piece. As a
sidebar, the flutist (flautist if you are a snobberitiousness) for my responds-to-jazz
piece was teaching at the VYO camp (and she has a name! Jennifer Grim!) and came
to the place one night and I made chicken.
And then Hayes and Susan came for five lovely days, much of it spent saying
"bummer about the rain, huh?". Hayes had just finished a piece for an August 23
performance, and he spent the beginning of his residency chez DavyBeff extracting

and printing parts (and drinking orange juice) -- after which we went Stapleswards,
had parts and scores printed, and off we went post officeward for the Express Mail
part of our program. After which we bought chicken. It wasn't all beezness, though --we did do a shopping trip in downtown Burlington followed by dinner at Leunig's (our
treat), another dinner at Smokejack's (their treat), and a field trip to Middlebury for
the Morgan Horse farm run by the U of Vermont -- which included a visit to the Otter
Creek Brewery (I got a t-shirt, and so did Hayes) and lunch in downtown Middlebury,
and the Visit To The Crafts Store That Would Not End. We also took a sunset cruise on
Lake Champlain, on which we rode on the outdoor part and got waitress service for
dinner, etc. Ironically, there were spectacular sunsets nearly every night where we
were ensconced, but the sunset on sunset cruise night was quite ordinary. Try saying
that five times fast. Also, there were some scenic bike rides that did not include me -since there were only 3 usable bikes in evidence.
And then I went back to work on my piece, with my composing board and my "Mikey
paper", on the single bed in the lower level of the summer place. And when Cammy
felt needy, he would up and sit on my piece. What a catty thing to do. I was on a
strict 32-bar-per-day regimen (with half note at 132-144, that was actually not all that
much music, unless you're silly), and I mostly stuck to it. MEANWHILE -- Beff finally
got appointed -- after several false upbeats -- interim Chair of her department, which
carries a ball and chain for a two-year sentence, and that meant a trip to Maine for
Chair stuff and a Chairs "retreat" (I guess Chairs are expected to act French -- rim
shot), and it also means that as I type, she is on her way there to meet with new
students AS THEY ARRIVE rather than after.
So finally it dried up for the last week, and many bike rides were in evidence after
Beff got back, and we didn't leave the compound (or the simple) very much. And
finally last Saturday I finished the piece, gave it a few final touches, backed it up,
jumped up, down, and sideways, and ... started doing the parts. My favorite part of
finishing a piece. That continues right now -- three done, seven to go. But of course,
the day job is shortly to kick in as well, and two short days from now I'll be imparting
the Brandeis experience to at least 41 students. For those looking on, I'm not only the
Piano Etude guy, I'm also the Balances Piano Bench On Head guy. But not till it's been
earned. As to the responds-to-jazz piece, it is called Stolen Moments, and you, dear
reader, may view all 4 movements of its 25-minutesness in the "SM" links leftwards,
and hear MIDI of 3 of the movements just below them.
Oh yes, and as I forgetted to have been mentioning -- the first edits to Etudes Vol. 3
are already in. They arrived while I was ensconced in a begins-with-vowel state (the
first thing to be delivered to that place's mailbox by the USPS in 2 years), and I spent
rather a long time listening to the edits for mistakes and the like (my list is about 55
of them), and Amy hasn't heard them yet because she's Down Under until the
beginning of next month. I'm not offering any of them up here because, well, because
I'm just not.
Meantime, while we were gone those four weeks, our house was getting a new look.
We got tired of the old green and white aluminum siding that looked dirty and was
impossible to clean in the front, so we got MDAW to take the old siding off and install
new siding while we were gone. Due to the "bummer about the rain" nature of this
summer, the siding did not get put on fully until the end of last week, and now they
are painting the trim (hence my pictures would include ladders and scaffolds and
painters, oh my), so it's the "Our House" link that will be updated when appropriate.
MWA ha ha, even though the situation doesn't at all call for diabolical laughter. Now
by our third day in Vermont, the answering machine stopped picking up, so we
wondered if a big thunderstorm had killed the electricity, so we asked the MDAW to

check, and all was normal. So we figgered the answering machine was verplunkt and
Verizon voice mail was picking up messages -- which we had no idea how to retrieve.
Beff came through here for an eye appointment a week ago yesterday, and
confirmed a suspicion that dawned on me just before she left: when the old siding
was removed, a wire may have been cut, thus there was no phone service, hence no
answering machine picking up. Currently I am waiting for Verizon to ficks it, and the
window for when they may arrive just began. Do windows have beginnings and
endings?
This morning I produced a full size score of Stolen Moments to send to Yehudi, since
it's dedicated to him at 80 (not till next June 1), went to Great Cuts for a haircut, got
breakfast stuff at Donelan's, got mailing bags at Staples, got limes at Trader Joe's
because I forgot to do that at Donelan's, and mailed the package to Yehudi. Wow!
And even before all of that happened, the painters arrived, and have been at
elevated locations speaking to each other in French. The irony may just be that
neither of them speaks French, and they are just doing it for fun. Or perhaps they are
trying to have a retreat.
Non sequitur and potpourri paragraph: Beff heard at the VYO camp a viola joke that
I'd never heard before. There's a change for the better. Oh, and our last full day in
Vermont featured a cameo appearance by my 60-yr-old brother, his wife, and his son.
I grilled stuff. For the salmon, I used an aioli that I learned to make on the internet,
and that I made for the very first time. Our quince bush has usually only produced 2
or 3 fruits per year, but it's got like 100 of them. Global warming? Or rainy summer?
Travel for me this upcoming academic year? New York, New Haven, Cleveland,
Fredonia (NY), Champaign/Urbana. So there.
Lots of pictures today, including some more from Italy, which predates this update.
ITALY: the valley below Assisi, viewed from Assisi; animals in Montepulciano; a church
ceiling outside Montepulciano; old Roman amphitheater in Gubbio; "Barrels" of wine
at the Barbi winery in Montalcino; Mt. Etna viewed from Pienza; medieval church stuff
in Pienza. UTAH: valley in which Salt Lake City lies viewed from the Snowbird tram.
VERMONT: typical sunset; Morgan horse riding demo; Beff n Susan n Hayes on the
sunset cruise, way before sunset; Cammy being needy on my responds-to-jazz piece.
MAYNARD: our house in its underwear.
SEPTEMBER 9. Breakfast was Boca breakfast sausages, coffee, and orange juice.
Dinner last night was macaroni and cheese microwave edition. Lunch was a 2-slice
special at Cappy's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 53.2 and 86.2.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Pedal to the Metal", the pedaling
etude. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS The balance for the work putting on
new siding. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I blossomed early enough as a
trombonist (now there's a metaphor I never want to use again) to be sent, in sixth
grade, to the high school district music festival at BFA. I played second trombone
parts, and never gave them back. Somehow I obtained a reel-to-reel of the final
concert, and I delighted in playing it back and playing along on second trombone. I'm
sure it drove my mother crazy. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Not so much cute as gross. Sunny threw up on the kitchen floor
last night and in the master bedroom this morning. Time to change their water.
UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: Bio, Performances, Recordings, Home, Bio. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crink -- not the foreshortened version of the word "crinkle",
as many would presume (watch your false cognates, people), and not onomatopoeia,
either. It's a Norse word and no one has any idea what it meant, or even if that's the
right spelling. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I once owned a

1976 VW Rabbit in a color we called "puke green". WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Voters are not stupid. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 12,411. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.59 in Maynard. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE
a small bit of fake transsubstantiation, a gravy train lacking wheels, the thirst that
only those who are thirsty will ever know, an old recording of "The Miraculous
Mandarin" on vinyl that's being reused as a peanut serving tray.
We only spell "insouicance" that way because of the cartoon. If I were to start
mesmerizing, there would normally be a plate in the destiny of hopelessness, and
when five of us accumulate in that direction, there can't be any bicycles without
refrigeration. So of course we dance. After the pallbearers have passed through,
remind me to give my opinion of the grass on my back, because then we'll have to
make pie.
The ground has been hit running, to put that old tired phrase in the passive voice.
When last we virtually spoke, finishing touches had been put on the new siding,
painters were a-painting, and I was extracting parts to Stolen Moments. Which we all
know and love as Davy's responds-to-jazz piece that was my summer project. I'm
pleased to report that the parts all got extracted, printed and bound, and were sent
to Merkin Hall the Friday of Labor Day weekend, and it was just in time to be
frolicsome with Beff for the weekend. In the context of a couple of political
conventions, of course.
All that was choresome for me to do over that week (choresome?) was mowing of the
lawn, and of course exercising by riding the bike (after several months of no use, my
tires needed inflating, but oddly, Beff's did not). And, of course, cooking. Lurching
spectacularly, I return to the last coupla weeks of our time in Vermont, where we
normally got marinated salmon about every third day for me to grill for dinner. But
we had discovered a garlic aioli (apparently, since aioli is a combination of words that
mean garlic and oil, that would be redundant, but that's okay, because I delight in
long parenthetical digressions) at Stop and Shop nearby that was really tasty on
salmon. And so my quest to find said aioli in Burlington was thwarted. Uh, by the, uh,
lack of there being any of that ... well, you get the idea (here's another pointless
parenthetical digression). So, to create a verb where none previously existed, I
internetted, and found a few recipes online. Which contradicted each other. So I went
for the one that prescribed an egg, a cup of olive oil, a tablespoon of dijon mustard,
and thou. I whipped it up good (I must whip it), and kept adding stuff -- salt, pepper,
more dijon mustard, more dijon mustard, more dijon mustard, more dijon mustard -and eventually I got enough tastiness to fill a 16-ounce jar that once held hamburger
dill pickles. And it lasted a week, and didn't cost 6 bucks like it does at Stop and
Shop. And as you may have guessed, we had plenty of salmon that week. Including
that last Sunday when my bro', sis-in-law, and nephew came for dinner. By the way,
my nephew is on the football team of my high school. Bitchin.
So that week before Labor Day, Beff was in Maine yet again, a-chairin' and a-greetin'
the incoming students, while I was busy carpal tunneling my parts. The piano part
has so much STUFF in it that I decided to make it an 11x14 part -- thus adding the
burden of trimming tabloid paper, AND doing a fancy schmancy binding combo. And
then just when doing the parts bored me (and you) out of my mind ... in walked Beff.
And we weekended -- which included the first time we'd seen Big Mike (ka-ching!)
since last May. Yes, and lurching non sequiturwards once again, Mike came over that
Saturday night, and we walked to the Cast Iron Kitchen restaurant -- which has taken
the place of the now defunct Quarterdeck. Big Mike is a beezy bee over at WPI, with
plenty of impressive-sounding responsibility (eww, I say). And he got the macaroni

and cheese. I got the ziti, thus pulling ahead in the shortest-food-name competition.
And I forget what Beff got, because obviously I won the shortest-name competition.
As well as the latest-in-the-alphabet competition.
And then Beff returned to Maine on Labor Day, noting the tremendous traffic in Maine
going in the not direction of her. But here I lurch once more because -- yes, on the
Thursday before Labor Day we had school, and my body readjusted to the 6:00 alarm
by wide-awaking me at 5:45. I drove to the 'deis and parked legally, got a parking
ticket (the parking gestapo is clueless on the first week of school), held a session of
Fundamentals by giving a "test you should fail to stay in this class", went to the first
Faculty Senate meeting, and then finally made it to the meet-and-greet first music
dept. gathering of the year in the courtyard next to Slosberg. And there they all were
-- the new, old, and slightly tarnished graduate students! And two of the incoming
composers actually studied with me last year (I wanted to put scare quotes around
"studied" (like I just did (right there)), but I resisted, dear reader). So I told my Italy
stories (well, not stories, just .. "Oh, Italy. It was fun."), and Michele -- who is from
Italy -- made fun of my Italian accent.
So lurching, lurching. The day after Labor Day was spent first with a teeth cleaning,
and then making a buttload of handouts and uploading them to various webspaces
for the classes I'm teaching. And the whole department started getting stressed by
the explosion of students taking music courses. To wit. Theory 1 had 34 last fall, and I
taught them all. It had 51 enrolled. Fundamentals, which I am teaching, and which
had 34 last time I taught it, AND which had 25 last year, had 45. Intro to Composition
had 6 last year and 19 this year. So the wondering of if we can ask for adjuncts was
a-goin' on, and meanwhile, the beezness of teaching happened. I started the official
teaching of fundamentals while there were too few desk chairs in the classroom, and
got all cosmic in Theory 2 (only 12 students) about K. 488. Hegelian dialectic, people.
On Wednesday there were 45 enrolled for Fundamentals. On Thursday there were 55
(it must have gotten around that I played a vibraslap in class). So on that day we split
the class into 3 sections for TAs to teach rhythm and ear training, and the small
classrooms into which the sections went ... were, of course, too small. So the old
arguments from upstairs about how music courses attract too few students -- got
dusted.
Meantime, of course, Beff got back Thursday night, and we relaxed as much as
possible. Friday we did a bike ride and a downtown walk, where we stopped in at
Door and Window with dog bones (and left without them) -- Steve came over for the
job-done-walkthrough, and we showed him what was still undone: utilities boxes not
connected to the house, two broken windows, pencil marks still on the corner PVC, a
strange place where some indoor porch siding was taken off but not replaced -- and
we asked for a new door on the porch. What we DIDN'T expect was for workmen to
show up at 7:59 Saturday morning -- on a day Tropical Storm Hanna was forecast to
pass through -- to do some of that work. Sigh. So, bathrobed, I pointed to what had to
be fixed, they borrowed some bleach (not a non sequitur), I went to Stop and Shop
for salmon for dinner (now THAT was a non sequitur), and ... well, it was very, very
juicy that day. So we stayed in the air conditioned rooms and internetted. And had
salmon with (commercial) lemon pepper aioli for dinner. Sunday we bike rode, walked
a bit, watched the Monster road race go by, and Beff went back to Maine.
Meanwhile, we acted out the saga of the iPod Touch. This is long, so either skip a few
paragraphs, dear reader, or get a beer. Welcome back. Beff, by the way, has an iPod
Touch as a perk of her chairmanship, and that means it's no longer necessary for her
to get an iPhone when our Verizon contracts are up next month -- since the Touch
does wi-fi, and whatever new phone she gets will only need to access e-mail on a G3

network, whatever the heck that is. Same here, I think. Plus, it appears Verizon is way
better in Maine than is AT&T, which you have to get to use the iPhone. Well, so ... the
Touch had been acting up a little this summer, when I used it. It was too complicated
to get it to work on the Civitella wi-fi, which had a slew of passwords and proxies to
use (Diego had to make appointments with all of us to set up our internet access, and
multiple times because of a big hail storm), so I only looked at a few pictures, etc. But
I did notice that once in a while it would just be dead when I tried to wake it up, even
though I hadn't used it. It charged it fine, though.
I had it with me in the Salt Lake City airport, and given that I had 7 hours to kill, I took
it out once in a while and did some of the "free" wi-fi they have there. At one point,
though, the iPod simply froze, and after about five minutes I cold-restarted it. When it
came back up, there was no wi-fi -- in "Settings" wi-fi was grayed out, with the words
"No Wi-Fi." Hmm. Back in Vermont, I charged it fully, and by the next morning, with
my not having used it, it was dead. Charged again, dead again the next morning. SO,
since it was still under warranty, I waited till we got back to Maynard to find the
original receipt for repair. And the day before classes started, Beff found me the
"2007 taxes" box from the attic, which I spent a long time searching through -- twice
-- to no avail for the receipt. Much too late, I had a d'oh! moment -- these were the
2006 taxe receipts, for the return filed in 2007. There was ANOTHER box in the attic
labeled "2007 taxes" which was correctly for the 2007 tax year, and ... found it. Went
to the Apple repair place in West Concord, who said look online since we don't do
iPods. Sigh.
Online I went. I had registered the iPod, so it knew about it, I explained "no wifi, goes
dead in a day", and then it needed my credit card to charge $31. Which was odd,
considering it was STILL UNDER WARRANTY. So I called Apple, and was told it's free to
return a defective iPod after six months, but shipping charges apply for the next six
months of the warranty. WTF? WTF? Instead, I registered it under AppleCare, got a
free box next day to send it to Apple, got an e-mail very quickly -- actually, got three
of them spaced 62 minutes apart -- saying "Your 'dead' iPod is fine. Nothing wrong.
Reinstalled system software, are returning it." It came the next day while I was out,
and I had to wait until the day after Labor Day for another delivery. So I charged it,
and ... huh, wi-fi was just fine. And it held a charge for more than a week while I using
it sporadically. So ... lesson is that something in the iPod Touch software can cause it
to lose wifi and drain the battery. Be careful!
Over this last weekend, Beff and I were both using our Touches with our wifi, and now
that there is an "App Store" on the Touch, we downloaded some free applications -NONE of which worked on the iPod Touch. So, why bother? And the users manual is
now one of the bookmarks in Safari, so I used it to find out how to delete
applications. When you do that, all the icons shimmy, and that may be the first time
I've used that verb in one of these updates.
And then yesterday. Back to the routine. Played the piano with an orange in
Fundamentals, and got even more cosmic in Theory 2. Meantime: I got back on
Facebook after a 9-month hiatus, and all my stuff was still there. Rediscovered how
very addictive it is. And today, well, today, I have to remember how to teach mode
mixture in theory, and find a few good examples to pass out. Because it is what I do.
Meantime, I noticed that the Marine Band had posted mp3s of their premiere of
"Cantina" from last march. See the magenta link to the left. I had also noticed that
Bridge's "Americans in Rome" 4-CD spectacularanza was posted on their site, sans
ordering info, but you know, there it is. And then I finally flipped over the
"performances" thing and put in what I know about this coming year. I confirmed that

I'd be doing a colloquium at Yale next month, and will probably go to NYC the
weekend before that, and blah blah blah and exactly two cats named Sunset and
Camden.
And of course, I got worked up over the Republicans, etc., so I am trying, with little
success, not to get more worked up about them. Both names of the VP candidate
have five letters.
This Thursday the School of Creative Arts barbecue happens right on schedule, and
as usual I am a guest burger-flipper. I have brought my chefs hat and "Two Fat Ladies"
apron to school to be used for said occasion, which will be one of two things bringing
me to the 'deis on Thursday. The other is a faculty meeting. Also during my time at
Brandeis I was reminded that I am on the docket to write some incidental music for
the April production of Hecuba, and I finally was given a copy of the play to read.
Who reads plays? Why isn't it on YouTube? But that's something entirely different. As
with The Bacchae, faculty and students are giving the play a new translation, and as
before, the sound design grad student who was in one of my classes will be recording
the music and using it in the production.
On top of all that -- I'll also be thinking about the flute etudes for the former Mary
Fukushima, now Mary Kirkendoll, and about a piece for the North Country Chamber
Players in New Hampshire; here I will be working with Marie Harris, whom I have so
far only met on e-mail. That one can't be started until I know for what instruments I'm
writing. So there. And this weekend, the cats get their rabies booster shots, always a
fun thing both for us and for them.
I had a few pictures on my camera that I thought might go below here, but this
morning in my morning stupor after copying the folder from the card to the computer, I mistakenly
dragged the folder into the trash instead of the card icon. Hmm, Apple has to work on that "trash dragging"
metaphor. Carp. So instead, some house pictures and some pictures from Vermont. So we have a sunset
viewed through a glass, that same Morgan horse picture, Cammy viewing from his perch, the back yard, the
new steps, and the house number before it was reattached. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 23. Breakfast was Boca breakfast sausages, coffee, and orange juice. Dinner last night was a
hot dog and a Boca sausage thing -- to get rid of the hot dog buns, after scraping off a little blue. Lunch was
the 2-slice special at Cappy's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.8 and 78.3.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Schumann setting of Mondnacht. LARGE
EXPENSES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS Two bottles of Brunello, $115. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: After getting German measles my junior year in high school, I couldn't eat anything for
about a month and a half. I remember going to a holiday party and being given half a tomato sandwich. I
took one bite, and was full. By the time I started eating again, I weighed less than a hundred pounds.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: With the down
quilt back on the bed, Cammy now sleeps right next to my shoulder. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS
WEEK: Home, Performances, Recordings, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: slitch -- one of
them in time only saves seven, so apparently it was version 0.8 of "stitch". RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE My eighth grade basketball coach called me "Rake". WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Free money for rich people who gambled and lost other
people's money on bad mortgages. Oh wait, that's already a trend. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY:
12,476. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.49 and $3.53 in Maynard. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE any
quantity of igneous rock, a Post-It with the phone number of a person long since fogotten, the place where
you put your happy thoughts, a proton that suddenly got big enough to be seen with the naked eye.

The fence, if literally interpreted, could bring down fire and marshmallows on the cat that saved his chicken
for a tree. But without it, I wouldn't suspect that twelve of them would have had any iron. Of course,
though, if we use a double sharp, we may have to reserve the barbecue for the gerbil run in 1972, which
would be hilarious. And it's not just battery life I'm talking about here.
More of the ground being hit running has happened, and this time in the passive voice. The unusually and
spectacularly large classes now operating in the music department continue to be unusually and
spectacularly large, with the thankful exception of Theory 2, which is at an even dozen. Fundamentals,
though, has 56 students. Now that the first three assigned homeworks for Fundamentals have come in, I can
verify without self-doubt that doing all that grading is mind-numbing and head-exploding. Not as bad as
last year when I had to grade species counterpoint exercises for Theory 1 from 34 students, spent from 9 to
3 in the gazebo grading them and realized I'd hardly made a dent, but still ... as I actually tell the class, I
grade 15 assignments, my head explodes, I put it back together, do another 15, etc. Counting up and
listening through the many versions of major and minor scales in every homework is fairly boring, but it's
what I do in order to have the experience. Of head explodingness, that is.
The much grading now required of me has forced an improvement in time management over here, and so
far I'm a-stickin' to the plan: do grading as soon as I get home from work, and have it all done as soon as
possible so that the rest of the day is free for working or for squandering. Squander is a funny word. I
mean, just look at it.
Besides the muchness of grading -- and muchness of repetition of grading -- plenty of things have happened
here, and not all of them use the letter "f". But don't think less of them because of that. As I brought up in
the last update, I rejoined Facebook and found it addictive. It was like grabbing the brass ring, or not, since
all my old files and list of friends from last November were still there. And I decided to play it cool, mostly,
and not issue new Friend Invites -- except to a few of the Civitella Ranieri people. Nonetheless, I have
doubled my number of friends in the last two weeks, which is not impressive, since several of said friends
have as many as five times as many friends as I currently do. Facebook also has a popup chat mode, and I
conversed with Amy B (fka Amy D) about her upcomings, including the tango project, the light at the end
of the tunnel of which is visible. Also on Facebook, I uploaded Civitella photae, Bogliasco photae, and
ACA photae. I believe said photo albums may even be public, dunno.
So THIS morning I finished all my grading, for both courses, by about 10:45, so I was able to get to this
computer to write this dull as nails prose in plenty of time. My plan for this afternoon now that it is totally
free: squander it. Because it's such a funny word. In fact, this may turn into an afternoon of funny words.
But don't ... snitch ... on me, okay? Hee hee hee.
Much else besides Facebooking, and turning nouns into verbs, has happened in the last coupla weeks. First,
Beff was in Maine for all of last weekend due to her Cadenzato obligatoriationnesses, not to mention a bit
of Chairy stuff, and she left early the weekend prior so that she could -- at least once -- observe the
marching band in full battle array. She actually Skyped me from that event, and was far enough away from
a wi-fi source that the display updated 0.20 frames per second, but it was cute. I did actually hear music
that sounded underwater. Yesterday was Beff's birthday, and it was even splayed on New Music Box (she
shares the date with Mark "Mark" Kilstofte). My contribution to the whole affair was to Flip Video both of
my classes wishing her happy birthday and e-mail her the video. Both of them came off as silly, as well you
might expect. Beff's imminent return is not as imminent as usual -- Saturday instead of Thursday -- but I
plan doing a red wine worthy dinner accompanied by some Brunello from very good years. After which we
will go to sleep. And then, many hours later, wake up.
One thing of surpassing silliness that happened was my discovery, via John Mackey's blog, of
yearbookyourself.com. It puts your face from a photo you supply onto stock yearbook type images from
1956 to 2000. It was recommended you don't do it with your cat, so I did it with a kitten picture of Cammy.
Call me Martler
Definitely giggle-worthy, and I'm easily able to imagine the ludicrous attack ad the McCain campaign
would come up with to criticize me for doing that with Cammy's face. Sorry, "ludicrous attack ad" is

redundant in the context of "the McCain campaign". My bad.

So the Geoffy experience, mega-edition, also happened, as Geoff was in town for several days not once, but
twice, both using the wi-fi and the piano, and doing dinner. He took us out to the Cast Iron Kitchen, I made
salmon aioli one night, and there were a few breakfasts on my non-teaching days. He also dropped his new
CD with Matt Haimovitz, which is bitchin. He was on the Ditson Contemporary Music Festival last
weekend not once, but twice. But here I will have to add some detail about ME. It turns out -- based on
circumstantial evidence, I'm rich, and not just because I'm a part owner of a big insurance company.
After I was done at school last Wednesday, I removed my shoes and changed into shorts and flip flops
because it was nice and warm out. My right foot started hurting right at that point, around the big toe.
Wednesday night I actually didn't sleep much because of shooting pain in the toe. On Thursday I had to go
into Brandeis to substitute in a TA section that had been left empty because the student teaching it withdrew
from the program -- I woke up with a bit of a limp, but was able to get my sneakers on, and I did the
section. THEN I drove into Boston to NEC, where Collage was rehearsing my "Imaginary Dances", an
overwritten and dense piece that is 22 years old that I never imagined would still be having performances in
the 21st century (this was its second in this century). The piece was sounding good, I saw Yehudi, who had
a rehearsal just before me, and I drove back home. And I was limping. That night I went to the
Neighborhood Pizzeria for dinner, and had to park some ways away, making the limp even more noticeable
and the distance feel like even farther.
So Friday I got up with more limp-y pain in the foot, and couldn't manage to get a sneaker on it, since it
was so painful. So sigh, I went to my health care provider in Wellesley -- interesting, since I had to use the
bad foot to accelerate and brake, and it was a 40-minute drive -- where the doctor knew right away what the
problem was. I thought it was a strangely pinched nerve that needed chiropracty (is that a word?), but it
turns out it was gout. Yes, the rich man's disease. So I was given a prescription of little green pills to take
with food, and was sent on my way -- and yes, you know somebody in this room is going to do some things
in more moderation, and Jack left town.
But that night was the night of the Ditson Festival where my piece was being done. So when I got back I
relaxed on the hammock for a while, and the foot flared up in pain and I briefly considered not going. But, I
sucked it up, left early, put a slipper on my right foot and a sneaker on my left, drove to the waterfront,
since the concerts were at the ICA, and I ate at a little seafood place next door. The clam chowder was
great. Then I up and limped to the ICA, bought a ticket for the 6:30 Dinosaur Annex concert and got
freebies for the 8:00 Collage/Cantata Singers concert, and, well, there it was. I saw Kate Desjardins there
(odd since she lives in Chicago) as well as a lot of the usual suspect, and Fred Lerdahl, too. All of whom
asked about the slipper, and all of whom were given the lowdown. Yehudi informed me that the pills work
very fast (he turned out to be right), but not within 6 hours. The Dino concert was nifty, featuring pieces
with actual senses of humor, but also featuring a family that made a show of walking out during the last
piece and making lots of noise in the process. And the hall sounded dry because a lot of black curtains had
been set up to make the venue seem smaller.
For the Collage/Cantata Singers concert, the curtains were taken away, and a full view of the harbor, and a
spectacular one at that, was in evidence. Collage played really great, and my piece sounded good (except
for the fact that it was, like, that piece), and the Cantata Singers brought back a few memories with their
performance of Irving Fine music. O know to end as to begin, and all that. So when all was done, I limped
to my car, having the ability mostly to avoid people who would feel obligated to say something nice, and
drove home. Being as I was on a strict every 6 hour regimen for the little green pills, I set my alarm, did the
pills, etc. And strangely enough, the foot was a lot better by Sunday afternoon. Still, I didn't go to the rest of
the Ditson concerts, but they must have been really good.
So endeth the gout saga for now. Yehudi made sure to advise me to keep the leftover green pills in case it
happened again. Okay, Yehudi.
The week, before, though, was an advanced exercise in time management. Since Beff had left early for the
marching band observation, Sunday was free for writing, and so I went rhought all the Mary Kirkendoll

flute movies she made here back in June, and started a flute etude for her using tongue rams and beat
boxing in moderation. (The red "Mary" link above will remind you of those movies, evident here last June)
With writing all day Sunday, and then all day Tuesday (my new time management skills gave me all of
Tuesday to work because my grading was accomplished Monday evening), I finished an etude which was
three and a half pages in Mikey paper score. Entered into Finale, it came out to eight pages, and I finished
entering the notes Friday morning during throbbing time for my toe. I consider it a draft, since I've asked
Mary to look it over, etc., and she's about to embark upon her honeymoonness. But YOU, dear reader, may
take a gander by clicking on the "Flootood 1" link up there on the left.
And what's left? According to the McCain campaign, it's the press. Rim shot. But, well, and ... well,
tomorrow is an Arts Convivium where a bunch of Brandeis faculty and administration get together for midprice wine and expensive crackers and not-yet-gone-by fruit and esoteric cheese and then listen to a few
faculty talk about what they've been doing lately. I am such a faculty for tomorrow's edition, so I'm looking
forward to the mid-price wine. And then I have the week after this one more or less off because of holidays
and calendar adjustments, so I'm planning on embarking on at least two etudes: the prog rock etude
suggested so long ago by Rick Moody and discussed at length during the Mega Geoffy Experience; and
another one, possibly the one with toy piano.
Not many pictures taken this last coupla weeks, so I up and went outdoors this morning for some new ones.
But first, some older ones. When fishing out manuscript paper for the flootood, I discovered an old sheet
from 2003 at Yaddo and a false start on etude #58 -- as you may know, the etude rule is no revision, just
restarting, so when this opening sucked, I did what I did with all such false beginnings. To its right, see the
flootood on its way. Kinda. Then a coupla obligatory cat pix, quince on the bush, shrooms, the former apple
tree, and the electricity meter STILL not reconnected to the house since the siding job was done.

OCTOBER 4 (with a little added OCTOBER 5). Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese
sandwiches, potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Dinner last night was a Hot
Pockets "Bruschetta Chicken Panini," which turned out to be more like mush
surrounding refried beans surrounding two little chunks of dry chicken -- not to be
purchased again. Lunch was two Boca Italian sausage sandwiches with mustard and
hot sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 38.7 and 73.2. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Berceuse", etude no. 87. LARGE
EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Two bottles of 1999 Brunello, $98. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I have precisely one baseball hero story in my arsenal,
and it's doozylike. I was a member of the Cardinals in Little League, at age 12, and
we played six-inning games in a four-team league. My second year on the Cardinals
was interrupted by two or three weeks at home with my first serious asthma. After I
returned I saw spotty service, but I did get put into a game as the second baseman,
and it was tied after six innings. In the bottom of the seventh, I was first up, and I hit
a bloop single just over the second baseman's head. My coach advised against trying
to steal a base, but on the second pitch, I ran for second, and the throw from the
catcher sailed into center field. So I ran to third, where the throw from the center
fielder went towards the dugout. So I ran to home, and we won. And oddly, after I
scored I saw that the coach was a nervous wreck. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST
WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny is becoming progressively more vocal,
and sometimes he does the silent meow thing. And Cammy has taken up a perch in
the attic overlooking the back yard. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: Bio,
Compositions, Performances, Recordings. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tursch -- an
ancient contraction of turf and mensch, although it remains obscure to this day what
it was intended to mean. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE When
I was a kid, I had a "Thingmaker" which used "plastigoop" in molds to make, well,
things -- mostly rubberish insects. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE
IN CHARGE: Instant rewind where Karl Rove politics never existed. PHOTOS IN MY

IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,503. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.45 in
Maynard, though I see it for $3.35 now. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE
A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a cherry without a stone, a forgotten
rerun of The Love Boat, several suggestions for how to improve the flow of sludge
between your fingers, the shape of your mouth when you think about the color red.
There's a parting coming, and it's not going to be governed by how we move our
knees. For you see, after the fox makes fried chicken, we have to tell the people in
charge of refrigeration how to make their flashlights warmer, and without that
precondition we could take the saw and force it into the tree. But perhaps I have gone
too far. Nonetheless, there aren't more than seventeen people in the world with a
direct knowledge of medieval potty training.
Dear reader, plenty has transpired since the last update, and this update is actually a
little early. I am on the deathly ill side due to having caught Geoffy's cold, which is at
the phlegmification stage wherein talking is not a viable option and honey and lemon
(called "remedy" by me 'n' Beff) in hot water is a staple. Nonetheless, there was
plenty of health of which to speak before all of this, and I'm sure plenty of health out
there in front of me. Indeed, so much work has gotten done that I'm taking the day
off (today is Saturday, and what it is, too), beginning with an update. Though my
schedule will clump pretty dramatically starting next week.
When last we spoke (figuratively), I was about to embark on a "prog rock" etude at
the behest of Rick Moody and with input from Geoffy. That embarkment happened,
shortly after I finished typing the update, and continued throughout that day. The
next day, Wednesday, was a big teaching day with a convivium (we pronounced the
v's as w's for almost three seconds of complete hilarity) in the late afternoon in the
Slosberg lobby. Four of us went on about ourselves, including me, and we all went on
too long. Though it was good to have Wayne there to demonstrate "beatboxing",
something that goes on to a small degree in the flutudes I am writing. Did I mention
the flutudes? Well, not yet, because last time I was calling them flootoods. I'm much
better now. Anyway, before the conwiwium (another two seconds of total hilarity
there, n'est-ce pas? -- that's French) I managed to get all of my Music 5 grading done
so I wouldn't have to bring it home for my felicitously timed holidays. Thus I came
back from Slosberg with only Music 103 homework to grade.
So.
During the summer I received an e-mail from Jenny Chai, an excellent pianist doing a
graduate degree in modern music performance at the Manhattan School of Music,
asking for program notes for an Italian radio broadcast with her playing my EMachines. She said she had done it in New York last February, which was news to me
-- as was this Italian radio broadcast. We've kept on an e-mail correspondence, and
during this last reporting period, she sent me a DVD of the February recital. I was
able to extract the performance of E-Machines and stick it on YouTube, a nice blue
link down to the left, and I can report that she is learning a bunch of Catalogue
d'Oiseaux for a big performance at the Chelsea Art Museum later this month (the
23rd, I think).
With the Rosh Hashanah holiday at Brandeis and a Tuesday schedule taking place on
Monday, I effectively had the week off, which I used to my advantage. Geoffy was
here for some of it, as he had a Musica Viva gig this week, and both Geoff and Beff
were here for a small part of the weekend -- Beff not getting here until Saturday
because She Is The Chair. Meaning on Saturday I made some nice beef kebabs from
Whole Paycheck and we washed it down with some nice 2000 Brunello. And Sunday

we had chicken and Pinot Grigio, I do believest. Then Beff went back very early
Monday morning, and returned Wednesday evening. And why Wednesday? To drive to
Philadelphia for a conference Thursday morning, silly. I mean, really. No, really. So
Geoffy was here that evening, and we did salmon (because he was too sick to go out)
aioli with 1999 Brunello, very tasty, very rich and complex. The wine, that is. And so
Beff got up at 4:45 Thursday morning and got to Philly for lunch, having driven the
entire way. Today she gets back in time for a late dinner. We will have salmon aioli
and 1999 Brunello.
Meanwhile, Geoffy has been around all week, too, occasionally using the piano to
practice, occasionally practicing at Brandeis, and of course rehearsing. Because his
job at Hunter College also gives him Rosh Hashanah off. But also plenty of e-mail to
answer. So while all this was going on, I wrote three piano etudes and a flute etude,
now called a flutude. Which gives me two. But lemme splain.
The Prog Rock etude, #86, as I noted earlier, was started on Tuesday by virtue of my
getting my Mus 5 grading out of the way early, and I made substantial progress on it.
Then I spent all Thursday and Friday on it, and part of Saturday, finishing the
inputting by the time Beff arrived. Geoffy and I listened and marveled at the MIDI of
it, and Geoffy suggested something that I incorporated: repeat the opening riff more
times with an option to add transpositions and riffs over it -- also in the
recapitulation, which I did. He plans to premiere the sucker in Canada in February and
give the American premiere at Hunter College on the 26th of March, dear reader,
should you be in New York. I also ran it by Rick, who was somewhat astonished that
his offhand suggestion got turned into an actual etude. He got ELP from the
beginning (all those sus-4 chords), and Geoff's suggestion of a block structure (like
most prog rock) also kinda got incorporated. And the last bar is simply a repeat of a
much earlier bar because, well, because, as a prog rocker, I can. It's the only etude
with "pretentious" in the tempo marking (well, so far). When I had described this
project in the conwiwium (two more seconds of hilarity there), one participant told
me after, "one thing you neglected to say about prog rock -- it seems much longer
than it actually is." Well said, said well, conwiwium guy.
After that was said, done, said some more, and done, Beff got in, we did the married
couple thing for a day and a half (while a hurricane passed due west of us), and off
she went on Monday. At which point I took out the old Jaymar toy piano that Beff
bought at a flea market years 'n' years ago (I also have a Schoenhut in my office and
Geoffy has my other Jaymar in New York for Cage performances) and embarked on a
five-finger etude berceuse. For you see, when Rick Moody told me that he and his
Amy were expecting, I promised to write him a berceuse before the expected was
actual. It turns out he had no idea what a berceuse is, which would explain his lack of
response. So in any case, I decided to make this one, #87 the ONE in Book 9 that I
can play, and for that I turned to Stravinsky. Uh, because he's got a bunch of fivefinger etudes. And I made up some weird five-finger positions (cross your fingers is
more like it) for something quasi-but-not-quite octatonic and in 7 but not in 7, etc.
and sent it to Rick and Amy. Since the MIDI would have sucked (the five-finger
positions being actual notes in it), Geoff read through it on the Jaymar from a sitting
position and we YouTubed it. To do that, first Geoff had to get a spider out of the
cushions I imported from the porch, and in the video itself, Sunny makes a cute
cameo appearance near the end. Rick said he framed it, which is cool. And Amy told
him what a berceuse is.
AND THEN, and then, and then. Time for another flutude, the ideas for which started
popping, popcorn-like, into my head as I was waking up on Tuesday morning. So on
Tuesday and Wednesday I finally did the keyslap etude for Mary, and it turned out just

fine. In this case, the key slaps are contrasted with tongue pizzicatos, with lots of
double tonguing (Mary likes to double tongue), and it seems like a show stopper or a
gob stopper, or something with a lot of vowels or consonants or diphthongs in it.
Mary is still on her mieleluna (the Italian-but-not-Italian for honeymoon), so when
she's back she'll comment on both flutudes. And by the way, as was the original
intent, I called this one Slap Happy, and came up with a name for the first one on
tongue rams: Ram Tough. Because I am Joe Six-Pack sher yabetcha get back to ya on
that looking backwards. That one was actually quite complicated to put into Finale,
what with all the extra notation frills, but I diddit, yes sir. Good thing, too, because
that night in came Beff for salmon, etc., as detailed above. And by the way, you can
still see a bit of Mary's demos by clicking on the red Mary K link up and to the left.
So Thursday it was time for another long-considered etude, the one with toy piano.
The hardest part of this piece was the title, and believe me, I went through every
possible pun with toy and boy and tri and tie, and came up with the title TOYED
TOGETHER. For you see, it's the piano TOGETHER with the toy piano. Well, it's what I
could do on short notice. And yes, there's a lot of unison between the two hands on
the different pianos (Davy steals from his piano concerto), but some actual
counterpoint, and a few other screws and nuts and whistles and bells and what have
you. It occurred to me afterwards that the opening faux-blues licky stuff may be
related to a synthesizer solo in a tune by the Brand New Heavies, but then again, I
could be wrong. I could only call the lick to mind, but not the rest of the song. And so,
last night, I had entered the entire piece, sent it to a few people, and ... I'm bushed!
Dear reader, you may view scores, etc. in the links to the left.
Meanwhile, on Thursday, that sickness that Geoff had started to be a gift I received
from him. Scratchy throat, coughy, no runny nose or nuthin', but it's definitely one of
those things where not talking is much preferred to talking. I've been doing much
honey and lemon in hot water, and it kinda helps, but it's a little addictive. Also CVS
tropical fruit soothing vapor drops and honey and lemon drops, and it's all just so
complicated. Unfortunately, I'll probably be just fine by the time teaching up and
starts up again. And all I have to do between then and now is grade Theory 2
homeworks.
But wait, there seems to be more. Last night I was a little perturbed about the smell
of maybe diesel fuel or heating oil around here, and we get that smell once in a
while. It was definitely noticeable overnight, but I thought it was going away. This
morning I got up before Geoffy and noticed the smell was still around but not evident
in my basement (where the furnace and oil tank are), so I thought less of it. And as I,
bathrobed, was making us the complicated breakfast with which this update begins, I
called in Sunny from outside, and noticed the smell stronger, looked at the furnace
chimney, and spied thick white smoke coming out. Turns out the smoke was actually
black, and the white was some steam ... nonetheless, the furnace was coming on
once in a while because it also heats the water in the hot water tank, and I went
downstairs to look, and a bunch of smoke/steam came from various apparati when
the furnace kicked in, and the thick smoke kept coming out, so, sigh ... after eating
my lovely complex breakfast I called Dunn Oil's emergency line (we have a
maintenance agreement), and the technician who lives just around the corner called,
I turned said furnace off, and as I type this he is working on it. The latest is that it was
clogged (duh), he's cleaning it out, and he'll have news once there is news. Poop.
Whoops, I too soon spoke. Blockage in the chimney, is cleaned out, investigation
happening as to the cause, but it doesn't look expensive. So for the moment, lots of
smoke in the house, smoke detectors going off occasionally, and all the windows, and
front door, open. And I am slowly getting black lung. Or maybe whitish-black lung.
UPDATE OCTOBER 5: the technician said the problem with clogging was due to a

faulty nozzle, presumably the same nozzle he installed during routine maintenance
last February. New nozzle installed.
My schedule reclumps after Monday, so the next update should be about on time,
around Tuesday the 21st. Two days before my Yale colloquium. And what else is new?
Not so much. I really am sort of composed out (which is a pun if you've taken
Schenkerian theory or sat in a grad seminar where people try to sound impressive
about stuff they know nothing about, which is redundant), so I am grateful not to
have any really, really pressing piece to write. Though ... and as was brought up by
my collaborators in the conwiwium ... I have to write a bunch of incidental music for
the spring production of Hecuba and get the tracks laid down in Jan or Feb. -- but
that's quick stuff. Plus, apparently, some of the chorus part will have to be set to be
sung, and that's my job, too ... And, sigh, I have itsy bitsy ideas for a third flutude.
Possibly soon to become bigsy wigsy ideas. Other pieces hang in the balance, which
just goes to show you.
Today's pictures begin with two Yearbookyourself.com photos from a picture Ken took
of me in April '06. The rest were taken with the little white Sony camera that's been
laying around unused since the spring, using its ISO no-flash mode, which seems to
be the default. So we have the piece furniture in the dining room showing the chicken
jug, the obligatory cat photo, the two-keyboard setup for the composition of #88,
Geoffy reading the Globe in the morning, the prog rock etude in progress, and a
bigass piece of lasagna from Whole Foods defrosting in the kitchen. Bye.

OCTOBER 19. Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches, potato pancakes,
orange juice and coffee. Dinner last night was salmon with lemon pepper aioli,
broccoli, salad, and a red wine from the Barbi winery. Lunch was chicken sausage
with peppers from Whole Foods. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 32.7
and 70.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Ladder of Escape, for 12
bass clarinets, by Michael Smetanin. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS My
yearly cheapo percussion instruments from Musician's Friend, $99.97. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played on our elementary school soccer team when I
was in eighth grade at the very persistent badgering of its coach, also the Phys Ed
instructor. I played left wing, and scored 4 goals in a 10-game schedule, including a
goal in our first game about 5 seconds in. We won that game 1-0. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny came in one
afternoon obviously after rooting around somewhere and was gray with dirtiness. And
of course, they both sleep on the bed in the bedroom now. UPDATED ON THIS SITE
THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: cremolion, with the stress on
the second syllable; an ancient mead-based concoction used to flavor sausages.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can crack either thumb
knuckle at will. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: This
never-ending political campaign is finally over. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY:
12,569. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.89 in Maynard. OTHER
INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE
a ticket stub from a Red Sox game that was postponed due to rain, something that
feels nice until you open your eyes, kitty litter that stuck to your cat's butt, a positive
test for funkiness, twelve rocks that together can predict the future, an adverb that
looks like a clock.
Into the brim went my flashlight, but I was able to retrieve some cat hair by asking it
a rude question. So, rhetorically speaking, why didn't I wait until the barn had some
games for me to play when I could have been the mushroom that makes the world

tick? It's all well and blue, but without it I doubt that my stop sign would have cared
for a truffle. So I guess we'll have to eat out.
Dear reader, much has transpired since the Oct 4/5 update, not much of it terribly
interesting, but occasionally strangely mesmerizing, or not. Brandeis has continued
to have vacation days, but this time on days I don't teach, and thankfully it gave me
slightly more time for various busy work, including grading of the usual voluminous
pile of homework. There was also some uncharacteristic warmth at times that made
outdoor activities not only possible, but exceedingly fun. But maybe I am getting
ahead of myself, which in five dimensions can be proved possible.
First, during the sunny and warm that preceded the last few days here, time was
spent in the hammock, and time was spent actually doing work, or not, in the gazebo.
And yes, it is much nicer grading a pile of 50 Fundamentals homeworks in the gazebo
than not. Other time not spent with egregious BrandX paperwork was spent doing the
sort of obsessive yard work I like to do -- uproot ailanthuses, trim bits of shrubs,
remove viny plants. And I prepared ye the way of the Leaves. For you see, we have a
nice place in the far corner of our far back yard to dump the leaves we rake; that
involved a lot of uprooting, reconfiguring of various large dead branches we've stuck
there, and generally widening the two entrances into said space.
And of course, the furnace issue was solved, though as usual, the guy who did it said
the furnace's connection to the chimney has to be redone, and the office would call
soon to set up an appointment for someone there to come and do it. He said that last
February, too, when he installed the faulty nozzle that was causing the smokiness
anyway. So it looks like it's up to me to take some initiative and walk over to Dunn Oil
and all that stuff. For the record, heating season is under way, but last night was only
the second time the heat has been on -- two weeks ago being the first time. And it
hasn't gotten below freezing yet, so that warmth of the last coupla weeks can NOT be
called Indian summer. I'm a purist when it comes to such things. Or something that
rhymes with purist. It's still warm enough that the heat goes off before it reaches the
upstairs radiators.
Besides doing my regular teaching, coming in for a department meeting and a faculty
senate meeting (in whichI talked more than in my entire two previous years on the
faculty senate -- in the discussion about whether to have a regular teaching day on
Labor Day in exchange for the day before Thanksgiving being an off day, I said I'm
willing to teach as long as the senate equates having a barbecue with teaching, big
pause, rim shot). Meanwhile, the economy is kinda in the toilet, which means that the
situation at my place of employment will follow suit. But that's not a situation for
right here. But for now, no searches, no adjunct hiring, 20% cuts across the board,
etc.
Brandeis gets a bazillion days off in the fall, but NOT Columbus Day. Which of course
means Beff was at home last Monday while I was at Brandeis. And it being a holiday
for everywhere else in the world (though I gotta admit I liked the very light traffic
going to and from Brandeis), it was an Open House day at the 'Deis. Both my classes
had spectators -- the holidays meaning a third of my Fundamentals class was
missing, thus opening enough desks for parents and prospective students to sit. And
in Theory 2 we looked at a Chopin Nocturne chosen by a class member, and guests
outnumbered students by a not insignificant margin. I alas showed that the high point
was at the Fibonacci point, which either excited, bored, or confused onlookers. We
then tried to harmonize tunes from Mozart's clarinet concerto, which as usual ends
up showing that what Mozart did was way better, and a good reason he is now dead.
And for the record -- after tormenting Fundamentals with intervals and transposing

instruments, I have moved on to triads, which given that I'm teaching lead sheet AND
figured bass notation is more complicated than you might imagine.
So Beff and I got to have nice cooked dinners for more days than is usual, and I didn't
have to spend as much attention with the cat litter. Cool. Meanwhile, the toilet in the
place in Bangor had become something of a rocking chair, according to Beff, which
led to much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth and advice from others about
how toilets that sweat in the summer eventually soften floorboards, and remedies
include quick fix locally and possibly the floor of the entire bathroom for enough
money to buy a horse. So Beff got her usual guy in to look at it, and he had a novel
solution: he tightened the bolts. Charge to us $50.
The long weekend was also our weekend to upgrade our cell phones. Last time we
got different phones, ordered online, and shipped here. This time Beff did lots of
research, had wanted an iPhone but saw that there's not much of a G3 AT&T network
in Maine yet, so she settled on the Verizon Voyager, which we liked because it opens
up to a full keyboard, has both cursor and touch screen functions on both the outside
and inside screens, AND can retrieve our e-mail without the benefit of wi-fi. After
looking up Verizon outlets online, we first went to Best Buy, where they didn't have
any of them in stock, so off we went to BJ's, right across the street, and we did all the
paperwork, including upgrading to unlimited internet, etc., including GPS software
that is included in the plans we got. So we played and played, I bought some
ringtones (Beff's characteristic tone when she calls is Funky Cow), we got data cards,
took pictures, etc. And on Columbus Day when I brought my phone back out to use it
it misbehaved -- no matter what I did it defaulted to Voice Command mode, and then
timed out. And though I could make a call, I could not be heard on the other end. So
another trip to BJ's was in order, and I've now got a working Voyager. And it's cool.
Though not iPhone cool. On the other hand, the Voyager works full speed in Maine. So
there.
So then this week Beff got in on Friday, and Ecce was doing my Hyperblue in
Worcester at Clark College that night and Seunghee asked for a ride to the concert.
So after Beff pulled in, we up and got Seunghee at South Acton and drove into
Worcester. Where we encountered big time traffic in a few places and, of course, got
lost following the Google Maps maps. Luckily, our Garmin got us where we wanted to
go, though it still doesn't stay affixed to the windowshield. So after some dramatic
moves, we parked on the Clark campus and went to the music building -- which
turned out to be locked. I had to call John Aylward -- thankfully programmed into my
Voyager -- to find out where in the 30 or so buildings of Clark the concert might be
(since our e-vite only said the concert was at Clark University (not College?)). And
then a piano trio put on a very diverse concert with every possible combination
except solo cello. James Wiznerowicz, whom I know from the Atlantic Center 2005,
was there, since they were doing a piece of his, and he's now ensconced in academic
weirdness like the rest of us are, and his piece had a pretty strong profile (though it
could have lapsed into the Mickey Mouse Club theme at any time, and I would have if
it were my piece). The Garmin got us back out of there, and then we were home.
I was to go to NYC yesterday for the repeat of the concert, but decided against it,
since I didn't have a place to stay in Manhattan (and didn't want to burden Hayes and
Susan) and thus would have had to drive back the same night. So instead, we
succumbed to the beginning of raking season. The trees are far from bare, but still at
only half-undressed there were plenty of leaves, and starting yesterday morning and
going sporadically until noon today, we raked, barreled, and carted away 35 barrels
of leaves. That's about a third of a typical year's haul, but of course we can't do much
more until the trees yield the rest of their leaves. So it was a very refreshing and

exhilarating time gathering up all the leaves, and it gave us much aerobic exercise.
The kind of aerobic exercise that doesn't come in packages or bags.
This week in academics is more on triads, and more weird chromatic harmony stuff in
theory 2. And of course, much going into the gazebo with thick piles of grading. On
Thursday I do a colloquium at Yale, the materials for which I am getting together this
weekend. And then this coming weekend will be more raking, one must presume. I
yearn for another fall like fall 2000, which had a windstorm severe enough to blow all
the leaves away and leave me with virtually no raking. What else upcoming? Amy B
should be marking up the first edits of Etudes Vol. 3, finally, and soon I expect some
first edits of my BMOP CD. How soon one doesn't know, but I'm told that one is
scheduled to drop on January 2.
So lots of foliage and stuff to share this week. Below, in order: two foliage pictures
from the nearby Delaney Nature Preserve, a bit of the back yard, the outside viewed
from the bedroom, foliage along the Assabet River, Beff barreling in the driveway, the
porch door with foliage reflections, and Dirty Sunny having treats. Bye.

NOVEMBER 2. Breakfast was rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner last night was reception food. Lunch was a large Boca burger.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 26.4 and 66.0. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Sweet and Lovely" from the Let It Be album by
the Beatles. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Lunch at the Blue Coyote while
the house was being cleaned, lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen with Beff, $25 cab from
the hospital. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the height of my
fontmaking period -- the academic year 1991-2 -- I put a whole bunch of crap-me-up
fonts on Compuserve as shareware with silly Readme files and a suggestion to make
a donation to Columbia Composers. I made the mistake in one of them of promising
to send a disc with MORE fonts if you gave ten bucks and included a postcard that
said "Tell Davy about me! Foop!" All these years later that looks even dumber than it
did then. In any case, for a year I accumulated 4 or 5 of those a month; and I would
make the floppies and send them out. Beff and I got to calling the people who
actually responded "Foopers." NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Not so cute really, the THIRD chipmunk of the year got carried
into the house by Sunny yesterday, and I found out it's a lot more strenuous trying to
get a chipmunk out of the house than it is to rake leaves. Story below. UPDATED ON
THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Home, Performances, Recordings. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: gordle -- an antiquated accessory for pants that was popular for
about a decade in the seventeenth century. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: at least 25. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE I am current with the complete Peanuts series (up to 1970). I
plan on stopping around 1974, when Peppermint Patty lurched the strip into profound
unfunniness. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Free
garlic for everybody. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,593. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.39 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD
BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a vintage poster from the
Monterey Pop Festival, a painting of a mushroom, conceptual disdain, a pair of
tweezers that's been stuck under the radiator, memories of times that never existed,
a 1960s elementary school science textbook, a rock that you got for Halloween, the
sound of your lips when they glow.
The widgets found themselves without representation. This precipated a crisis of
spoonliness, soon to be called "the big thing", and after it all came to naught, three of
them had to go to the bathroom. Perhaps we can learn from this, but without blue

pencils in the other room, I can't see where the insects got hidden. So I celebrate my
scream, I callibrate my dream, and I cerebrate my stream. Would you have thought I
was trying to make an apple with my bare teeth if I had memorized something else?
A casual reader called the first paragraph of these humble little essays "Dada". I had
to look it up.
Today being Daylight Savings day, I seem to have an extra hour to do things, which
seems like a good idea. Though waking up and starting my day at 6:15 certainly is a
startling thing to tell myself. I've done the breakfast thing, let Sunny out and back in,
and am still wearing glasses, as last night was contact night. That reminds me.
Perhsps it's time on to put the contacts lenses. 'scuse me.
I'm back, thus once again illustrating, in a most tragic way, the distinction between
real time and virtual time. You can tell I'm stalling, can't you?
Well, this being October and now late November, it's foliage season followed by too
much raking season, and indeed, I've been stiff the last day or day and a half. We do
have those three big maples by the driveway and three maples in the front yard that
bless us with their offcastings early, followed by a large oak tree in the neighbor's
yard that lags by 2 or 3 weeks. That tree is still mainly foliage-intact, but the maples
are pretty much bare by now. So for a significant portion of the last three weekends,
Beff and I have been a-rakin' and a-barrelin' away. Truly, the act of raking makes one
more folksy, by default. After the 25 barrels along the front yard and driveway of a
coupla weeks ago, there was more issue at issue last weekend, and this weekend we
moved to the back yard and the side yard, and a little of the way back. There is no
longer a big apple tree to trouble us with 8 barrels of rotten apples, but for some
reason the quince bush gave us about 75 quinces this year, in contrast to the usual 2
or 3. Fascinating. So with the 12 barrels I raked by the side of the house and in the far
back yesterday, the total barrelage so far is 85. Looks like a fecund year, since I
expect at least another 20 or 25 once the rest of the trees have yielded their issue.
And it's been a fairly bright year for foliage, as witnessed by the last update's shots
from the Delaney Preserve, but even moreso, the oak tree -- which usually just goes
brown -- is a fairly bright orange this year. Apparently the wet summer weather has
something to do with that, but you'd have to ask a weather person why.
Teaching has gone as it should, which means rockin'. Triad stuff in Fundamentals gets
toward its heavy side, and the planned textbook program of chromatic harmony in
Theory 2 has run its course. People either love or hate the common-tone diminished
seventh chord, but I love it. And it was a nice upbeat to "piece of the class's
choosing" this week, which was the Quintet in C of Schubert. Yes, that was a pretty
complex day in Theory 2, since it was, indeed, a complex piece with a lot to look at,
and dagnabbit, I wish the dude could have gotten over his chromatic mediant
relationship fetish, 'cause repeated listenings on the same day kinda made me
seasick. Insert C-sick pun here, but E-flat is where it takes you. This being Schubert,
and chromatic mediant, and all that. Though the quintet made a nice sort of upbeat
into the Op. 94 A-flat Moment Musical of Wednesday's lecture, that being a piece with
aa rogue E-natural that resolves oddly and infects (and inflects -- I know my
advanced theory lingo) the rest of the piece.
So for whatever reason -- raking being added to the mix, probably -- the perceived
rate of time passing has shifted considerably the last two weeks. The first five or six
weeks of the term veritably flew right by. The last two weeks went at a crawl. At a
crawl, I tell you. So right now I've got signposts (virtual ones, or metaphorical ones, if

you will) to get me to the end of the term: first, it's a relaxing Thanksgiving with
Hayes and Susan (three and a half weeks), then the last day of classes for me
(December 8), and then ... oh crap, I have a ton of incidental music to write for
Hecuba then. But they are signposts.
But wait, there's more. There actually was some excitement around here last week
that involved me, and it involved me (by definition). Last Wednesday night I felt
feverish, so I went bedwards quite early. I shivered for the first minute or so, but
settled in. Eventually I got abdominal cramps on my left side (right side if you are
facing me), and I took my temperature -- 103. I took aspirin and took the temperature
again -- 102.3. So with abdominal pain and a high fever, I figured it was emergency
room time! I up and called 911 (I hardly ever get to do that without people looking at
me funny, or thinking about arresting me), got some local Maynard fire and police
people here (who smelled the gas oven in a way that we don't because we're used to
it) and they ferried me to Emerson Hospital emergency room in Concord. Whee! I was
in a stretcher (called that because it ... stretches?) and got to do the cool thing where
they lift me and slide me onto a little bed in the hospital. Whee!
Anyway, I was asked all kinds of questions, the silliest of which was "on a scale of 1 to
10, 1 being hardly any and 10 being a lot, how much pain do you have?" I said 5. So
a nurse took about six gallons of blood, an IV was set up, and I was told to drink this
weird-tasting stuff mixed with cranberry juice over the course of an hour and a half,
in fifteen-minute increments. If you've ever drunk a 32-ounce thing of cranberry juice
in that amount of time, you can probably imagine how, um, pressing, the need for a
rest room becomes. Anyway. After that hour and a half, and by now it was 12:45 am, I
got wheeled into the CT scan room, where a recorded voice told me how and when to
breathe, and I got positioned mechanically while other people stayed away. Then I
was wheeled back and ignored for a while, and finally around 1:40 in came a doctor
straight out of a Marcus Welby episode to say, "you have diverticulitis. And now give
it up for my assistant!", a nurse who gave me some antibiotics, a prescription, and a
folksy chat about what foods cause diverticulitis. Apparently, broccoli florets -- which
Beff and I have a LOT on weekends -- is one of them. I also got a color printout with
pictures, and, of course, two blank pages, because carriage returns do that, and
hospital personnel don't understand a lot about desktop publishing. The "carrots have
fiber" paragraph had a helpful cartoon of a carrot.
Then came the realization -- I got ambulanced here, not to mention, I created a verb
where none had previously existed. So they called the ONE cab company in the area
that will do a pickup at 2 in the morning, and I waited around. And waited. Saw a
whole Simpsons episode in the waiting room. And I got picked up at 2:30 and
delivered at 2:40. The problem with the driver was that -- well, that he's the kind of
guy who drives a cab at 2:30 at night.
The next morning, during the traditional Cammy-nuzzle, I had to choose whether or
not to follow through on the Yale colloquium for which I was booked that day. So,
getting out of bed, OW with the groin, but after walking around just a bit, it felt fine, if
a bit awkward. I fed the cats, tried walking some more, and drove to CVS to fill the
prescription. Note to self: even though CVS lists its hours on its website as opening at
7, the pharmacy waits until 8 to open. I filled the prescription, had one last chance to
cancel, and didn't. So around 9 I drove to New Haven, presuming I'd get in around
11:30. I was to meet Kathy Alexander at 11:45 for lunch.
And of course, I got in about 11 and parked, and walked around New Haven a bit, and
it was COLD. So I went back to the car, started the heater, and sat for 20 minutes.
Then I called Kathy, we rendezvoused, had a nice conversation, and went to the

nearby faculty club for lunch. Others were there, including Chris Theofanidis -- a
REALLY nice guy I hadn't seen since New Years 1999 in Rome -- and Ingram Marshall
(last encounter St. Luke's Second Helpings in 2005, on which day I met Michael
Lipsey to see his hand drums), Michael Klingbeil (totally cool), Ed Altri. I got the
blandest meal possible (remember: diverticulitis), and took a nap until my 2:30 show.
At the show I did my piano concerto spiel -- seven etudes that went into the piece
and then the piece itself, along with stories and various jokes, and then there was a
bunch of good questions (hard ones, too, alas), especially from Chris. Ingram was
totally cool (he also admired my shirt, made by Moose Pond, and he couldn't believe I
got it at TJ Maxx). I was delighted that the students were so nice, and receptive -- at
my last Yale colloquium 5 years ago they just kind of stared -- and of course, the
faculty was cool, too. Michael and Kathy got me to my car and on the road, and I got
back in the dark, took my antibiotics, and went to bed.
Friday was finally my stay-in-bed day. I still had the abdominal pain, but the leg
cramp was less so, and it was good to be in bed. Beff got back late that night, and of
course on Saturday we raked. Mostly, driveway stuff, which was quite a few barrels.
By the way, THIS weekend, during which Beff had to go back Mainewards early in
order to see the pep band at a football game (I hated being Chair), we finished up the
driveway -- again -- and did the back yard, which was actually quite a few barrels of
leaves. On Friday we walked to the Cast Iron Kitchen -- which occupies the former
Quarterdeck restaurant space -- and had a nice lunch. Last night was a nice Brandeis
composer concert, after which I took the LAST of my antibiotics. And today is my first
non-antibiotics day in ten days. Perhaps this is why the last two weeks have
progressed at a crawl.
Yesterday Beff had to go to Maine early (as detailed), but since it was mild out, we
left the downstairs bathroom window open for the cats to go in and out at will. It's a
big jump in or out. Just before Beff left, I heard Sunny in the master bedroom and a
squeaking sound -- he had brought in a chipmunk, and why he always brings it to the
bedroom is beyond me. So, sigh. I opened windows in the room, and propped open
the front door so the chipmunk could escape by running downstairs, seeing daylight,
and going for it. After 10 minutes of chasing the chipmunk around the various
cubbies in the bedroom, I could not see it any more, and neither could Sunny. So the
windows got closed again, front door closed, 'cause it must have escaped. Beff left
for Maine. Hour and a half later, I was on the computer and heard the squeaking in
the bedroom again. Crap. Little chipmunk turds were on a windowsill, and it must
have climbed a curtain and hid behind it. So, I closed the door, opened all four
windows, and for 25 minutes Sunny and I chased it around the room, in my case,
trying to get it to find a window and jump. No deal. Sigh. So I opened the front door
again and the bedroom door, and the chipmunk escaped! But ignored the front door
and went behind the pump organ. Sigh. So I opened the nearby window and tried to
get it to notice, and Sunny chased it into the living room. Big sigh again. After much
more chasing, it finally found the door, and out it went. No more open window
privileges, Mr. Sunny. Um, especially since it's cold.
This week, the "Americans in Rome" CD on Bridge (9271) dropped. It's a 4-CD
extravaganza with my "For Wittgenstein" on it. I got a copy to send to Joe Duemer
(the poet), one for the music department, one for the Provost (who is supposed to get
copies of faculty research), one for me, and one for the little boy who lives in the
lane. I also rediscovered that there are currently 113 downloadable tracks on iTunes if
you search for me as composer (112 for Bernstein --ha!), but there is one more track
of E-Machines that does not have a composer listed -- it's Steve Gosling's recording
on the AME label. Since I never got a copy of the AME CD (and indeed, my name was
left off of the cover), I downloaded that track. Rocking is done by it. As to other CDs --

well, the BMOP CD hopefully before the snow melts, and similar with Etudes Vol. 3.
Oh, I have another reason these times have gone slowly. Suddenly I was deluged with
requests for letters, many of them job-related, and I am usually pretty quick with
those things. And the mondo-Guggenheim letter pile has yet to materialize, alas. So
those letter-requesters who may be reading this: of the last 100 or so letters I've
written that require me mailing something to somewhere, precisely two have had
postage paid by the requesters. For those of you playing along at home, that's
$41.18 of my own money spent on other peoples' packages. Not that there's
anything wrong with that. It's less than a bottle of 1999 Brunello.
So more with triads coming up in Fundamentals -- Roman numerals in 4-part writing,
etc. -- and it's the chorale writing unit in Theory 2, which is, I fear, very tedious to
teach and tediouser still to grade. Well, it was either chorale writing or species
counterpoint in 3 parts, and that leads to addiction, I fear.
So again -- my personal signpost for the future is Thanksgiving, Hayes, Susan. Turkey,
pie, and sitting on a couch. Well, and the BMOP concert a week from Friday with
Marty Boykan's violin concerto.
This week's pix start with the cats -- Cammy checking out the back yard (note the
former apple tree) and Sunny checking out a sleeping bag. Followed by Summer Hill
viewed from the front door, foliage in the context of the gazebo top, and two shots
toward the usually brown oak tree. Bye.

NOVEMBER 16. Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches with home fries,
blackberries,orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was tomato, pickle and pepperoncini
sandwiches with cheese. Dinner last night was salmon with sun-dried tomato aioli,
garlic mash, and asparagus. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 23.2 and
67.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS It's a Long Way to Tipperary.
LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS BMOP ticket $52, parking $34, new
sneakers $64. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In my junior year in high
school, we did a band and chorus exchange with a high school in Scarborough,
Ontario. There was no choral arrangement of the Canadian national anthem
available, so Mrs. Costes, the director, charged me with doing one. I had just kinda
figured out secondary dominants, so I did the unthinkable near the end: for "O
Canada, Glorious and Free", where the last syllable of "Canada" is sustained, I instead
had the note move, mid-syllable, up a half step to fit in the secondary dominant. We
actually sang it that way, and nobody hated us. And I got very slightly tingly. NUMBER
OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: While we were
raking last weekend, I tossed a small stone into a stand of pine trees so I wouldn't
have to rake it, and Sunny chased after it, got excited, and ran up one of the pine
trees about 13 or 14 feet. He couldn't get down, so of course, we had to get the
ladder out to bring him down. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: shimastu -- an old colloquiual
expression from southern Portugal that, as far as anyone can tell, meant repeat three
times and spin. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
TWO WEEKS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE There are
always at least five different brands or kinds of dill pickles in the house. WHAT THE
NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Serial music replaces punk at
clubs, and atonal composers pierce their noses de rigeur. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 12,630. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.09 in Maynard at
Jimmy's Garage yesterday. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER
PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE So long, fucker.

Immediately, or so they say, the tent that we had been folding, spoke and revealed a
truth about its inner kneecap. The twelve of us (ten, if you count in Burmese) couldn't
make syrup without our spoons because they told us a stone had to be thrown
toward the capital of Post-Its. Bummer. So when we tried to color in the tooth mark,
the nozzle came after us and made us think of things to turn upside down. On that
day, my face was red enough to turn all of Manhattan into a flower box. I'm not lying.
The big news of the last two weeks, and of course the biggest news in about seven
years happened during this reporting period, and I'm sure our gentle readers know
that to which I refer. I voted at the appointed place and time on Election Day, having
voted for a Presidential winner for the first time since 1996, the winning
Massachusetts state senator (ironically also the losing last president I voted for), and
I voted with the mob on the three ballot initiatives. Being a dyed-in-the-wool liberal
and having been incredibly offended by the robocall and guilt-by-association horse
manure slopped at us by the red people, I nonetheless have been conditioned to
expect Democrats to lose because ... well, it's what happens. But finally good things
happened, and I got caught up in the history and emotion of the moment just as
much as anyone else. And now --- when I see commentators on television remarking
at what a great president we currently have, I no longer feel the impulse to yell at the
screen and throw spareribs at it (especially since that would mean going out and
doing a shop). And that's a good thing. And I'm pleased to know for certain that Africa
is a continent -- sorry Sarah, it's one of the OTHER A-continents, Australia, that is
both a continent and a country. You'll get the home version of our game.
Even with all that political stuff going on, strangely enough, I did my job
spantorifically, and of course, in spare time, raked leaves. The week of the election
featured a homework due from Fundamentals that was kind of an apotheosis of triad,
key and function together, and of course that meant the process of grading it -- 50 of
them -- was about as soul-sucking a task I ever get in the academic year.
Chairmanship being the only thing that is more egregious in that regard. Grading
became a bit like that for Theory 2 as well, but there are a lot fewer in that class. And
in the spare time, yes, there was raking, whenever possible. I noticed that when both
Beff and I rake and barrel and discard that it goes almost exactly twice as fast. And I
hate it when I rake an area clean and it gets schmutzy with new issue so quickly -- as
happened in the oak tree area in back of the garage, of course. So this (strangely
mild) weekend I had mostly redundant raking to do, with far greater bits of yard to
rake to get similar volume of leaves to discard, and ... yesterday, finally, we both
decided the year's raking had been finished. Grand total: 116 barrels, a new record.
So the "I can't come to your concert because I have to rake leaves" excuse has
expired. Here I come, world!
The other two EOUS's (events of unusual size) in this reporting period involved public
performances, one of them also involving parking and eating out. So first with the
one that was farther west.
The Brandeis student theater collective (which is big enough to have "timpanium" in
its name) just put on a run of the musical Gypsy -- sorry, I'm not historical musicals
guy, but I did suspect the music was by Julie Styne (both names five letters) and Beff
correctly placed the lyicist as Stephen Sondheim (who was hired because his name
almost rhymed with Styne). Plenty of music students had roles in the production,
including on stage, in tech, or in the pit band -- and I had managed to loan the
students involved a train whistle, a bird whistle, and a slide whistle. It's none of your
business, dear reader, why I have one of each. I had also been asked by the director

to do a cameo on one show of the multi-show run of Mr. Goldstone, a booking agent
who gets food thrown at him on stage and has no lines. And that I did. Scott Edmiston
and the guy who works in the post office in Usdan were other specimens of Mr.
Goldstone, and I was only onstage for about 3 minutes. I wore some fake coke-bottle
glasses and did my best mugging, and that performance was just a few hours before
this posting. So there was a Wednesday night runthrough for all the Goldstones, and
today's performance. I have served. One of the interesting details was that a pingpong ball painted orange was called a kumquat and placed in my mouth. Which
means if I'm ever on Jeopardy and the answer comes up, in the "Fruit" category, "It's
a song in a musical that mentions a kumquat", I'll know to say "What is 'Have an egg
roll Mr. Goldstone' from Gypsy?" Granted, if I were not actually on Jeopardy, I would
never ask that question out of the blue. Indeed, watch:
What is "Have an egg roll Mr. Goldstone" from Gypsy?
My immediate answer would be "forty-two".
Another concert of great import was the season-starting concert by BMOP in Jordan
Hall Friday night. It was the string concertos concert (last season began with the
keyboard concertos concert, including one by me, and the only one by me, which is
what I have written and what it is, too). I went in early for the dress rehearsal of
Marty Boykan's violin concerto (world premiere!) with Curt Macomber as soloist
(world class!), and alas because of simul-event going on at Symphony Hall (I think
they call it the Boston Symphony), my usual parking venues were chock full (chalk
full?). Which meant an aimless bit of driving looking for onstreet stuff, and I settled
on the Church Park cylinder, next to where I lived in 1977-79. The piece sounded
really good, though a little muddled because of so much low stuff and the wood
stage, and afterwards I re-parked to be close -- because spots opened up. And I had a
lunch at Conor Larkin's (buffalo wings and salad), did the walkin' around a lot thing,
and did dinner at Pizzeria Uno (small plain pan pizza). Then was the event itself, and
that even included Ken's viola concerto -- the one that starts with a scream (as every
piece should) -- which did its noodling around on the partials of C in a nice way.
Marty's concerto sounded much, much better from the balcony, which is why it's a
good thing I was in the balcony to hear it and report to you, dear reader, that Marty's
concerto sounded much, much better from the balcony. When it was finished, home I
came, to find Beff, who had arrived from Maine in the interim. "Mfflmmzgp" we said
to each other, and retired. To bed, that is. We're way too young (and WAY too pretty)
to retire, silly.
Yesterday morning I raked some edge schmutz after our breakfast, and then we went
to a gathering Marty was having at his actual house in Watertown -- a rather long
drive through some really dumb bottlenecks from us. But it was worth it, because I
got to eat cucumbers. And bagels. And cream cheese. And tomatoes. Curt was there,
along with lots of other droppable names -- Eric Chasalow, Yu-Hui, Scott Wheeler,
Curt hisself, Eleanor Corey, Joel Gressel, and I must have mentioned the cucumbers.
When we got back, after another interminably long drive through stupid bottlenecks, I
finished the edging and raking just before the rain began, and Beff voided the house
of dirt and cat hair, using her funny "vacuum" thing. Really.
I am still using the much-closer-than-it-was-two-weeks-ago phenomenon called
Thanksgiving as a marker, and Seunghee will be staying here that time to take care
of the cats. After Thanksgiving, well, everything else is just a light. Unless it's not.
Unless it is. And of course we will be staying with Hayes and Susan, and I asked what
we should bring (it's usually pie), and the response: wine and cheese. So much wine
and cheese is ready to go, woo hoo, and what it is, too.

Other stuff coming up: Ken's colloquium Thursday followed by wings somewheres.
Thanksgiving. Then just a week and a half of classes after that. The semester is
passing fast again, thanks to our newly all-raked leaves. Now that's a change for the
better.
This week's pictures: first, the long shot of the oak tree that was bright orange in the
last update, now barren -- followed by a partial shot of the leaf discard area -- that's
about three feet deep there. Then we have Sunny stuck in the tree, and the cats
enjoying a look at the out of doors from the downstairs half-bath. Bye.

NOVEMBER 30. Breakfast was pancakes with real maple syrup, orange juice, and
coffee. Lunch was a big salad with an Italian dressing mixed in with a spicy dumpling
dipping sauce, and 4 slices of sorpressa sausage. Dinner last night was a big salad
with an Italian dressing mixed in with a spicy dumpling dipping sauce, and
lemongrass chicken dumplings with a spicy dumpling dipping sauce. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 17.1 and 51.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS
I TYPE THIS The beginning of Rachel's musical (I am wearing the t-shirt) LARGE
EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS pickles ordered online from Picklelicious.com $79.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In my junior and senior years of high school, I
took my lunch money and instead of going to lunch in my lunch period, I went to the
band room and hung out. Usually, I practiced the rather challenging piano part to a
Dello Joio piece for piano and chorus -- some of it was in 5/8, f'gosh sake! After much
practicing, I was ready to accompany the chorus in rehearsal -- which had once read
through some of it two months or so earlier. When in rehearsal the chorus obviously
didn't remember anything, Mrs. Costes (choral director) decided not to go on with it.
As to my lunch money, it mostly went for candy, and the Gradus theory text by Leo
Kraft. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
Sunny went out this morning and when he came in he was carrying a bird. Well, okay,
not cute -- troublesome. Beff and I got the bird -- and Sunny -- back out within 4 or 5
minutes. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Bio. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crimalcigon, another ancient Castillian word having to do
with soap, sand, lizards, and sticks in a combination that has been lost to history.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I and my siblings all have two
middle names. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: pointy
shoes are against the law, but just barely. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,668.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.85 in Maynard, $2.37 on the Merritt
Parkway. SUGGESTIONS FOR A NEW FEATURE HERE things you lick, things you don't
lick, funny-looking coins of the world, animals that act like humans but there's a
catch! [your suggestion here].
For about an hour we looked into despair and found a lawnmower chain. It was trying
to explain how its fifth leg was really its fourteenth eye when suddenly we heard the
grin of an empty chair taking its time with its mojo, and of course that meant we had
to vacate the spoon. When the twelfth thing happened, the chiming of the silence
was deafening, so we manufactured a run by bunting, sliding, and overreaching. At
that point all the punctuation was upside down, after which we rolled our eyes and
defeated in every direction at once.
Some people call today the cusp of December, and I think that's got way too many
consecutive unvoiced consonants at the end, so I'll just say we're on the verge of
December. I like silent vowels much more than unvoiced consonants. Those of you
onlooking and having a sense of history may realize that my concluding regular

feature of the first paragraph (can I write, or what?) has gone the way of the
Passenger Pigeon and Sarah Palin's syntax, and you, dear reader, may suggest
another one. I will list said suggestions up there until I latch onto one, unless I don't.
As to the previous feature, apparently almost five years running, thanks to Jim Ricci,
I've been able to cull a historically accurate history of my BETTER PRESIDENT
features and complile it into a file -- for the next two updates and the next two
updates only, you will be able to read or download that collection by clicking on the
light blue "Presidential Archive" link below.
In the meantime, plenty of import has happened since the last update, and I deny it
all. James Conlon came to Brandeis for a day of talks and speeches, and one such
thing was scheduled during my Theory 2 class -- so the whole class went. It was a 2hour question and answer session about his personal and musical history, and the
entire 2 hours were spent answering 4 questions. The logical branching was
complicated, and yet it always returned home. Of even more import to the student,
and to me, was losing a class, thus reducing the homework for the term by one, and
reducing the homeworks for me to grade by twelve. Note to self: find more ways to
do this.
In Fundamentals, we moved through seventh chords and inversions back to lead
sheets, more kinds of chords, more complicated chords, and making piano
realizations of lead sheets -- the number of handouts related to this activity was, as
they say, legion, and I really want to k now who "they" is. Isn't it fun to end a
sentence "who they is"? In preparation for explaining the turnaround in pop songs
and in jazz, I explained the cycle of fourths vs. the circle of fifths (or, 7 does not equal
12), explained a bit about harmonic sequence that comes out of the cycle of fourths,
and for an example played "I Will Survive". The number of students who could sing
along, and sing along accurately, was scandalously high. Brandeis is retro-hip, who
woulda thunkit? Coming up, it's more complicated chords, jazz chords, the
turnaround, and everybody's favorite, the tritone substitution. I wonder how many
other liberal arts schools teach the tritone substition in the first semester of
Fundamentals of Music.
Needless to say, grading for Fundamentals and theory 2 -- especially now that Theory
2 is doing chorale harmonizations and I actually care how to get them to make it
sound right -- has become a bit more soul-sucking than is normal. To wit, I have
devised DAVY'S GRADING FACTOR (DGF), which is a variable constant currently set at
3.8. Multiply the number of hours spent grading by DGF for the number of hours it
feels like you have spent grading; or, conversely, divide the number of hours you feel
like you've spent grading to get the actual number of hours spent. So today, Sunday
-- alas, I postponed the weekend's grading until today when I could have not done so
-- it feels like I spent 8.5 hours grading. Thanks to DGFI know I spent 2.2368 "real"
hours grading. It should be noted here that DGF is not a real constant -- it shifts
depending on the specific grading task. Fundamentals Homework 10 gives a factor of
4.5, but species counterpoint averages around 2.5. The take-home finals for
Fundamentals DGF is usually about 3, and the final analytical papers for Theory 2
DGF is, strangely, 1.
Among other things, people e-mailed me and I e-mailed some of them back. I went to
meetings and then came home. I accepted a commission from the California Music
Teachers Association to write some intermediate level piano 4-hands music which will
also involve me flying to LA in July 2010 for the premiere(s). I wrote grad school
letters and a few job letters. And the Guggenheim letter pile arrived, about two
weeks later than usual, but at least beginning this year I can submit those letters
online rather than sign the various forms, decouple them from the project

descriptions, write "see attached letter" on all the forms, and oh yes, write and print
the letters. AND ... I accomplished my fifth service of the (calendar) year as an
outside evaluator for an academic promotion. That last service is excruciatingly
tiring, very time-consuming, and very, very much worth it.
Beff's Maynard weekend was nonexistent last weekend, since UMaine sent her to
Seattle for about 36 hours to make an appearance at a convocation of music
department chairs. I celebrated by jumping sideways, once. And staying inside
because it was about 20 degrees below average. I also bought a whole bunch of
firewood and used some.
And then, and then ... Thanksgiving weekend is in the middle (or actually on the side)
of happening, and boy did we have great plans. Beff got in Tuesday night and we had
swordfish puttanesca which I made and what it is, too. Then on Wednesday morning
Seunghee trained in to be the catsitter from Wednesday to Saturday, and after
getting her food at Stop and Shop and 'splainin' some stuff, we drove to Bronxville
(three hours, fifteen minutes, including two stops) for Thanksgiving with Hayes and
Susan. We got there a little faster than planned, and Hayes was at home to let us in,
and immediately we walked downtown (a 12 minute walk) for a light lunch at Haiku
restaurant --where we got beer and appetizers. Or, alphabetically, appetizers and
beer. And soup. And then we lounged. Susan got back from work around 5:30, we
lounged, and then got takeout pizza, frolicked with Fritz and Rasia (the cats) and the
next thing we knew we were asleep. Well, we weren't knowing, but there you go.
For Thanksgiving day, Susan did almost all the food stuff (my only tasks were to peel
the squash and make the gravy lumpy), and in late morning we walked to the
Bronxville A&P for some last minute provisions -- I got myself a bunch of various olivy
stuff, and it didn't suck. Thanksgiving dinner was served at a civilized time, and eat
we did. We had brought wine and cheese (very expensive cheese from Whole
Paycheck, I might add), and it was tremendous. To decompress we watched a DVD of
Persepolis, which actually took an entire hour and twenty minutes before I exclaimed,
"I am incredibly bored!". Because, you see, it was, how you say in your language ...
incredibly boring. It was rescued somewhat by the network broadcast of The
Incredibles, which provides me with one of my favorite taglines that I transpose to
reference syncopation in tonal writing -- When Everything Is Syncopated .... NOTHING
Is Syncopated! But I digress. And well I should. And the third thing we knew, we were
in bed.
As for Friday, HayesAndSusan had incredible goodness waiting for us. They decided
we should hike in the Teatown Lake Reservation to their north about a half hour on
the Sawmill, then Taconic, Parkway, followed by a free beer tasting at the Captain
Lawrence Brewery in Pleasantville. I had assumed that the beer tasting would be at a
brewpub, but it turns out it's just a teeny room with a tap attached to the actual
brewery, so no dinner was to be had there. So ... up to the reservation we went,
choosing the Hidden Valley trail. And it we huck. After which back we came and
looked a little at the duck blind structure, got a few things at the gift shop, and
moseyed on down to Pleasantville. I turned the GPS program on my phone on for
driving directions, and they turned out to be right -- though it had a tendency once or
twice not to be able to update the GPS for a mile's worth of driving. We were in
Pleasantville far enough in advance of the brewery's opening (at 4) that we had lunch
at the "world famous" Pleasantville Diner, of which we were hearing for the first time.
The cool thing about the GPS program is that it also can search for things to do and
places to eat based on your location. I keyed in "restaurants" and the first entry
encountered was "Starbucks, 0.0 miles", which was synchronous with Beff saying
"Hmm. Starbucks". The next entry was "Pleasantville Diner, 0.0 miles", which I read

exactly as Susan said, "well, there's the Pleasantville Diner." Which made me a great
burger, and Buffalo wings that registered a 2 out of 10 on DBWFS (Davy's Buffalo
Wing Funkability Scale). In any case. While in the diner, we also checked the web on
my phone for the Prospero Winery, which was right next door to the brewery. Susan
bought a bottle of red wine there, then we had our free beer (the pale ale and spicy
hefeweizen were tremendous), and back home we came. To a big salad, and some
Prospero red wine. And we watched three episodes of "What Not to Wear", which
meant a whole three hours before I finally up and exclaimed, "Make it stop!"
Meantime, Seunghee e-mailed -- on Facebook, why? -- to let us know that Sunny had
barfed once, and that she'd used up all our firelogs in the fireplace. Which is fine,
since we can get more. We know where to get them, and how to pay for them, and
where to pay for them. We drove back in the morning, did a buttload of laundry, did
some busy work, and I made the dinner that registers above. Today it is coldish
again, and a storm with snow showers changing to semi-heavy rain is starting to
move through. Beff and I took a morning walk and she left for Maine early to beat the
storm, and then I did my 8.5 hours of grading. And now I am typing my update, but
that won't be the case by the time you read this, dear reader.
Upcoming: more stuff. By using the internets (just a bunch of tubes, they tell me), I
discovered that my band piece Cantina gets its Utah premiere on the tenth of the
month on which this is the cusp. Dunno what else is up. Just a week and a half of
classes left, but tons of meetings, and a literal ton (as in two thousand pounds, once
the DGP is factored in) of grading following that. After which I will rest.
Today's pictures include Rasia and Fritz, the Thanksgiving dinner, a shot of Beff and
Susan and Hayes hiking Teatown, me at the duck blind structure, and then Hayes,
Susan and Beff in the Pleasantville Diner. Bye.

DECEMBER 19. Breakfast this morning was lite sausages with cheese slices, orange
juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a Healthy Choice microwave pizza. Lunch was
Buffalo wings, a small Caesar salad, and a Berkshire Steel Rail Pale Ale at the
Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 11.7 and
61.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Boogie Wonderland. LARGE
EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Christmas presents $many, First edits plus
mastering for Etudes 3, $2400, charitable donations Part 1, $1,000. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was on the faculty of Columbia and actually living
in New York, I gave a composition lesson to Donel Young, a former student of Judy
Bettina from Stanford. A little while later, she invited me to a reception in Brooklyn
for an ensemble that was to be associated with the place she was working; the
ensemble was from Germany and did experimental stuff, etc. I didn't dress
pretentious enough, but I went, and at one point I was telling someone that I spent
weekends in a house in the country (we had just moved to Spencer, Massachusetts),
which I found relaxing and a good place to write music. The ensemble's director
heard that and left his conversation to come to mine and proclaimed, "You CANNOT
create great art in the country! ART IS URBAN!" Don't forget the German accent when
saying OOR-ban. It was my first experience of what I now know to be true: Europeans
like to make pronouncements. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: See pictures below of Cammy liking to enter any new box or bag
that comes into the house. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tinscker, from the
ancient Egyptian apparently referring to a cat in heat. So far, no pop song from the
1920s has been discovered that uses that word. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 35. FUN DAVY FACT YOU

WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I get a lot of e-mails asking for permission to use fonts
that are not mine, but that someone has atrributed to me. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: New England weather becomes subtropical.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,847. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK:
$1.75 and $1.67 in Maynard. OBJECTS THAT EXHIBIT STRANGE BEHAVIOR WHEN
MICROWAVED Whitebread sandwiches, green plums, Pez dispensers, ladybugs.
My heart was going "boomba-boomba-boom boom," but it turns out I needed a
translation from the Portuguese. Snippets of hockey invaded my Polish socks, so I
was going to learn where the tooth fairy put my gum, when all of a sudden both
flashlights remembered how to get a Nobel Prize. So without four of them (you know
what I mean, right?), the Post-It to which I conceded made explosions secretly while
Rome figured out its taxes. Notwithstanding, but with alacrity.
Dear reader, a frighteningly long 19 days since the last update, but you know, I can
splain. The timing was such that when the new update was due, I got a pile of
grading that extended from earth to the sun and back, and I pretty much spent three
solid days (Tues, Wed, Thurs) on it. I could probably have done it all in a day if it
weren't so soul-sucking -- I maxed out after 20 minutes, and in order for my head not
to explode, I had to go on and do diversions. More on those diversions on a need-toknow basis. What is a need-to-know basis, anyway?
So first, in the last update I solicited ideas for a new feature to replace INANIMATE
OBJECTS THAT WOULD MAKE A BETTER PRESIDENT, etc., and our double-fiver Alexa
from the Home page stepped up with some suggestions. I may make it a different list
each update, dunno yet. But next update's list will be different, too, so there.
My last week and a half of teaching went as it should, and by that I mean ssssmokin'!
After handing out three fake books in Fundamentals for suggestions for lead sheets
they would realize on their Finals, I chose five out of their fifteen or so, and on
Thursday stepped right up, did the final, and uploaded it to the class's webspace. The
last day of class was reserved for some funness -- for instance, telling the story of
Whitney Houston's "I'm Your Baby Tonight" and how it's in compound time in America
and simple time in Europe (you hadda be there), and playing the Sugar Plum Fairies
music simultaneously on piano and toy piano -- and when I dismissed the
Fundamentals class, there was applause. Ah yes, what suckuppage. And speaking of
suckuppage, I have been continuing the tradition of faculty giving food to the
students for the last class -- in this case 60 doughnuts to Fundamentals and 3 large
pizzas to Theory 2. It was nice, for once, to talk about dominant prolongations with a
mouth full of pizza. Typically, by the way, I also got 3 finals handed to me on the last
day of Fundamentals.
And for THAT weekend, Beff had to stay in Maine for all of her various important
things related to the end of school. So I found myself visiting Facebook much too
often (you may recall, dear reader, that I said it was addictive), and I up and withdrew
from Facebook. Partly because I got tired of being invited to so damn many events,
mostly because it was too addictive. Now it's time to figure out other addictive things
to stop doing -- like making snow angels, for instance, or eating tires.
So for that blank half-week after classes finished, I actually had to go into the 'Deis
six consecutive days. Though on Thursday, there was a pouring rainstorm that was
slowly turning to freezing rain, and I decided to stay at home rather than go in for a
meeting. So there. And that freezing rain did happen, but mostly overnight, and we
were brushed by the very ippy-tippy edge of the historic ice storm that hit interior
New England. So lemme splain.

It had been a hard, driving rain nearly all day Thursday and the freezing rain that did
happen didn't accumulate on roads and sidewalks, but when I woke up around 1 am, I
noticed a glaze on various trees that I could see in the light of the streetlight. I
thought little of it, since not much was forecast. But at precisely 3 am, I was
awakened by the sound of someone trying to break into the house. I turned some
lights on and donned my bathrobe and went downstairs and saw that there was a
local cat on the back porch. Thought I, "this cat sure makes a lot of noise." Then I
heard another big sound out toward the gazebo, and I looked out the half-bath
window and saw a bunch of pine branches at ground level, pointing straight up. I
turned on the outdoor lights and went outside to look. It was still raining hard, but I
heard a jangly sound in our stand of pine trees and another cracking sound, and
witnessed the fall of another large branch by about thirty feet. One big one that was
leaning against the gazebo I managed to move to the side, and at that point I noticed
that there were about twenty or thirty branches of size that had fallen, some of which
simply broke the fence. So, tired of being wet, I went back inside, and noticed that
the sump pump in the basement -- which goes on about once every third year -- was
working, and I was to hear it going on about 30 times that day.
The power never went off, though, and it was far, far more devastating as little as ten
miles to our west -- where some people STILL have no power. After the sun came up
and though it was still raining, I obsessed into dragging some of the downed
branches -- they were all on the east or north side of the trees -- to a discard area in
the far back yard. After doing that with many very heavy and ice-coated branches for
about a half hour, I decided I'd had enough. I called Assabet Tree Service, who took
care of our fallen ailanthus from three years ago, and of course by saying "it's not an
emergency" I guaranteed they wouldn't call back until the following Wednesday. So ...
I stopped moving branches and decided to let sleeping branches lie.
Meanwhile, Beff came home on Friday. I had gone into Brandeis to do the funding
panel for the Festival of the Arts (as I always do in December), and for the first two
miles there were occasional clumps of Verizon trucks tending to places that had also
had fallen pine limbs. But by about a half mile past the Sudbury line, there was no
evidence of an ice storm. I did the panel and got back, and we had salmon for dinner,
along with asparagus and broccoli. So there.
Saturday was the day to get the Christmas tree, so after some various errands that
included getting a new magic brush for cat hair, we got our $35 tree from the guys in
the Shaws parking lot, and as usual it fit nice and snugly in the Subaru, and it was
pretty easy to get into the house and stand it up. Last year the tree we had gotten
was bulky enough to snap the tree holder, and while I stood there holding the tree
Beff had to go to Aubuchon hardware and get a much sturdier model (the one we
currently have will withstand a nuclear attack, I am sure), and of course it was a
breeze. Last year the cats started drinking the water in the tree stand and, of course,
subsequently doing that not very cute kitty-vomit thing, so this year, d'oh! -- the
stand is covered up by a couple of beach towels. And the cats have been remarkably
uncurious about the tree. So Beff decorated most of the tree, and when we
discovered one of our strings of lights wasn't working, out I went and got the most
robust, and expensive, set of 50 lights that was available at Ace. How 'bout that?
Saturday night, after an early chicken dinner, there was a grad composer concert at
Brandeis, which was spantorific. Indeed, there was so much happy music on it, and
pulsed music, that you would hardly have thought we were on the oppressively
intellectual East Coast. It was certainly the best such concert since the New York New

Music one in 2005, and there wasn't a clinker -- not even one. Both Beff and I felt
very tingly about that concert -- or perhaps my feet just fell asleep. One interesting
development was that as the last piece (Jeremy Spindler's) started, I got dripped on,
and I searched in vain for the source of the water -- but it definitely came from above
the stand of stage lights above us. What a revoltin' development!
On Sunday Beff left around 2, and then there was the UNDERGRAD composer concert
to follow. This one was mostly short pieces, but there were a few substantial ones,
and at least two were real standouts. And then -- time passed, and eventually it was
Monday.
And on Monday at 10 was Max's PhD orals. After talking an hour and a half about
Lachenmann, it was Mozart time. And then I sat and waited for final papers and
takehome exams that were due at 1, and left at 1:15. It would eventually be the case
that one paper and one final takehome exam came in after that time, and Cheryl had
to fax me them (I love the word sequence "fax me them" -- watch this: Fax me them!
It could be a metal band!). I went from school to BJ's so I could get firelogs and
perhaps be inspired to get Christmas presents -- I wasn't. But I did also get myself a
headset/microphone for hands-free cellphoning. Because, because ... because, dear
reader, I am worth it. Also, for some reason I got a Burger King itch (hmm, taken
literally that would be weird) so I went to the one near BJs, and as always, when I was
finished I wondered why I had a Burger King itch. Perhaps I was being rash (rim shot).
And, and ... the temperature was in the mid 60s on Monday, so frolicsome was I when
I got home. Some frolic I did. I was sufficiently frolicsome to put off the grading until
Tuesday.
And then, and then... on Tuesday to keep my head from exploding, I took occasional
respites to go outside and drag all the fallen limbs from the yard to the space just
beyond the stand of pines, and then I raked up the smaller bits and carted them to
the leaf discard area --- that amounted to four wheelbarrow loads of smaller stuff. The
bigger stuff -- well, it's covered in snow for the time being, and Assabet Tree finally
did call back. When the snow is gone, be it later this month, or March or April, they'll
come by and take care of it plus about five years worth of trimmed and fallen stuff
that's in the pile by the leaves.
Meanwhile ... grading. Grading. Grading. Just the act of copying the scores into the
Fundamentals grade sheet after they had been graded took nearly an hour. The
calculating of final grades --- forever. And there was still a bunch of late Theory 2
homework, and final papers... Well, I finished this morning at 7:30, and I am very
glad, dear reader, very glad.
In the meantime, the pile of Guggenheim letters arrived and, thankfully, this year for
the first time these can be submitted online. So the typage for that was somewhat
time-consuming. Plus job letters and other various recommendations. During certain
weeks -- like two weeks ago -- the time spent simply telling other people how
wonderful other people are exceeds the time spent doing what I am actually paid to
do. One thing of note -- I actually did give ONE person "my highest recommendation".
I've done that four times since 1990, so it's nice and rare. Texas style.
On the plus side. The pickles from PickleLicious are great, and so are their hot olives.
I immediately ordered four more gallons of them -- two of full sour, two of spicy. Beff
got me a five-pepper-spiced thing of olives which are being saved for later. And I did
most of my Christmas shopping on line. I like it when that happens. As to Christmas
itself, we expect seven at dinner, only two of them without the name "Wiemann". I
would be one of them. Beff's sister Ann is making roast beast (which we will ask the

Grinch to carve, possibly into the shape of an elephant) and multicolor potatoes (I
think my job is to go out and get the potato crayons, not sure).
Whoa, I just ran through the list of pieces I have to write in my head, and it's
substantial. Though I'm off the colony hop for at least another year, so that means
they'll be written right here. The first task is incidental music for Hecuba, and that
involves an overture, some stuff to be sung by the onstage Chorus, some "dastardly
stuff happening offstage" music, and a whole bunch of short sound effects for the
sound designer to go wild with. Sound designer for Bacchae: J. Sound designer for
Hecuba: J. But a different J. The sound design program in the theater department is
taking, like, FOREVER to get through the alphabet. Though the FIRST J was never
seen by me in the Slosberg building nailing piano keys to a piano.
Oh, and the DVD with full resolution pictures (the file size of each pic averages 30
megabytes, zounds!) from Civitella arrived. I sent some of the shots to BMOP/Sound
for their designer to consider for the Winged Contraption CD. The others, I didn't.
And incidentally, I have not shaved since the last class I taught. I am officially
scruffified.
So that's how it goes. Next update will have the year-end highlight pictures, oh wow.
And a foot of snow or more is forecast to start falling here about an hour after this is
posted. For now, I leave you, dear reader, with nine pictures starting with four of the
backyard showing the nighttime picture at 3 am, the first light picture, a first light
picture from a different angle, and yesterday after the light snowfall and branches
moved aside -- note damage to fence. Next a bit of ice encountered on our Sunday
walk, Cammy being all cute in a Shaw's bag, the Christmas tree, Cammy jumping out
of a box with the no-flash setting on the camera, and me at Civitella working on the
bebop movement of Stolen Moments. Bye.

DECEMBER 29. Breakfast this morning was bagels with reduced fat cream cheese,
orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was leftover prime rib, Polish fries, and
salad. Lunch was a train of snacky things including pickles, olives, cheese, cherries,
and green seedless grapes. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 7.0 and
60.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The overture of The Messiah:
A Soulful Celebration. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Charitable donations
part 2, $1,000, more Christmas presents, Whole Foods and Trader Joes, $$$, two new
Espresso coffee makers, Italian style, $32. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
Our wedding (August 11, 1989) was at the Divinity School of Harvard with an outdoor
reception planned and an indoor classroom as the backup in case of inclement
weather. Naturally, there was inclement weather. Beff's father volunteered to get
champagne for the reception in New Hampshire on his way in, and we asked a friend
who worked in a liquor store how much was appropriate: he said two cases. Naturally,
Beff's dad thought that was an exaggeration, and brought one and a half cases. And
naturally, we ran out. So there were emergency beer runs by friends, who brought
back cases of Sam Adams, which is why in all the toast pictures from the wedding,
Beff and I are holding beer bottles. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE
CAT THINGS TO REPORT: During the warm portions of the seesaw weather we've had,
they like to sit in any open window and look out. We call it "kitty TV". UPDATED ON
THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Home, Lexicon. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
flurgeola, a short-lived kind of method for keeping nose hair from growing too fast
last seen in the 1890s. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 14. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I own
two bright red t-shirts -- one from the Magic Hat brewery, one from the 2008 Brandeis

Festival of the Arts. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE:
Every food, including fat, is lowfat. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,865. WHAT I
PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.63 in Maynard. THINGS THAT WOULD LOOK
REALLY FUNNY POLKA-DOTTED The White House, the front page of the Boston Globe,
the Amtrak Acela, the head of a pin, the moon on the crest of the newfallen snow, an
entire organ recital.
Shoe polish. They said it, and I thought of head cheese. So before any of the dogs
could object, three of us went in four different directions at once and shaved the
pebbles down to a clear, smooth, polish. As the starfish was thinking, "could they
have found the best price without first asking for silence?" Twice, apparently. So when
the smoke cleared, my head twisted into a pancreas, where the wild things once held
flashlights with malice towards none. Tropes are not the same thing as beestings.
A mere ten days since the last update, and that must mean vacation or something.
The real news here has been the wild, wacky weather of late, which follows a year's
worth of wild, wacky weather -- which became apparent as I scrolled through my
2008 pictures for the year-end fest below. We had a dusting of snow a few days after
being on the cusp of the wild ice storm, and soon that was followed by a parade of
very big snowstorms -- well, two. Each dropped about a foot, and it made us glad that
we have plow guys taking care of the big snowfalls. Although some of the pavement
of our driveway and some of the ground near the top of the driveway aren't exactly
glad (this would be anthropomorphization, for those of you playing along at home,
unless it isn't). So of course there was a white Christmas to be had here, as well as a
few mornings that got *really* cold. Colder still in Maine, as Beff called to let me
know the temperature there was 1.
So after the grading fest was over was the actual grading fest, as in, calculating final
grades for the term. This took much longer than it should have, for several reasons.
One of them was the way Brandeis IT has set up the online grading interface. Before
grades are officially posted, you must click on the "Approve Posting of Entered
Grades" button, after which you click on "Save". The Fundamentals class was so large
that for the first time the Approve portion of our program was not finished before I
clicked on Save. Little did I know that, since I'd not taught a class anywhere near as
large before. So when I got the form e-mail from the registrar on the 24th "Grades for
MUS 5A FUND OF MUSIC are not entered", I had a nice back-and-forth. Well, "nice" is
not the appropriate word here, more like "naughty". I reentered the grades -- of which
there were a lot -- twice before the registrar could see them. Then we laughed it off,
and went off in several directions at once (I believe that's a line from the "Bald
Soprano", by the way, and I do realize that I overuse it).
Meanwhile, Beff's reentry into Maynardhood was in the brief little window between
bigass snowstorms -- the storms were Friday and Sunday before Christmas, so gentle
reader, you do the figuring as to which day she drove back. And immediately the
more complex dinner-making started. Why, there's been snacky chicken, salmon,
swordfish puttanesca, and all. And then came the holiday blitz. Which went as
follows.
Beff's sister Ann came with food for Christmas dinner on the day before Christmas.
This was the day the warmthness started, in contrast to the ugly snowy weather of
many feet of snow, but this being New England, it started in the early morning as
freezing rain. Which made it real fun getting the newspaper from the sidewalk in the
morning. It was all rain and up into the 50s by the afternoon, and we took a
commuter rail into Cambridge for Christmas eve fun with the siblage -- the 25-minute
walk from Porter Square station to Dana street took 40 minutes with the piles of snow

of unusual size around which to navigate, but we made it. Beff's bro' Matt now rents
the apartment I subletted in 1999-2000, and there were meatballs, horrendously
high-fat things, and beer. Then we walked to the place nearby that Beff's bro' Jim
bought for dinner, which was cooked by his s.o. Annie. And it was very good. We got
a ride to the commuter rail to return, and that's just what we did.
On Christmas day, there was opening of presents, and here's how it came out. Ann
got all of the siblings embossing things with two plates: "R", and "from the library of".
I thought they were very cool, and I started embossing everything I could get my
hands on, except the cats. Beff got a classic iPod, two pairs of girly shoes, two pairs
of Hotfingers gloves, and some iTunes gift cards from me. Beff got me an HP printer
scanner fax thing that I craved simply because it has an autofeed for scanning
multipage documents (something I'll be using a lot especially this spring), and an
electronic yodeling pickle. In both cases, it was the first time I'd ever had either. The
gang of brothers and s.o. arrived midafternoon for dinner and additional gift opening,
and Ann cooked prime rib, potatoes, and lots of other things that have vowels in
them. During cleanup, the hot water ran out. Not that there's anything wrong with
that.
The day after Christmas Beff and Ann spent shopping in Cambridge, especially at
Crate & Barrel, which is going out of business in Harvard Square. I, meanwhile,
started writing music for the Brandeis production of Hecuba (in three days, I wrote
the overture).
The second day after Christmas saw another huge temperature run-up and, briefly,
pouring rain. Ann was on her way back to Albany and was interested in shopping at
some places she doesn't have -- Whole Foods and Trader Joe's. So we convoyed to the
two of them right next to each other in Framingham on Route 9, arriving just in time
for the pouringness of the rain. And we spent $147 at Whole Paycheck. But it was
worth it. From there it was a quick drive to the Mass Pike for Ann, and a less quick
drive for us to return home.
Yesterday was warmer still -- 60 here, 63 in Boston -- and it was fun taking a long
walk with Beff in a light jacket and giving bones to the purple-tongued dog who lives
on Summerhill Road. A very significant portion of the two feet of snow is now gone,
and I reveled yesterday in taking out some shrubs in the stand-of-pines area. Since
the branches that dropped in the ice storm took out the fence there, a little of that
area is going to be reclaimed as backyard. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
And of course, while I was doing that I served as kitty TV.
Klaus had sent us a gift package from Germany, including Harissa and hot pepper
chocolate, and some Lavazza coffee. Which brought back Civitella memories, and I
thought for Lavazza I should have one of those low tech espresso makers such as we
had there (Whole Foods also sells Illy coffee, supposedly the cream of the crop there,
so I got a can there, too. So there) and I got a 6-cup and later a 3-cup version. The
coffee was much better than the other stuff we've been drinking. And.
Meanwhile, I finished part 1 of the Many Musics of Hecuba and entered it into Finale.
Lots of inside the piano stuff, but that's a given. More to come after I finish with this
update, so there, so there. This afternoon the ka-ching twins (classic version) are set
to arrive here (Carolyn in town for family after having moved to DC and Big Mike
getting back from Christmas vacation this afternoon) for Korean dinner just as it gets
dark today. So there. Then, everything else is as it seems. 2009 will definitely be the
year that follows 2008.

Now to sum up. What did I write in 2008? A few memos, a bunch of e-mails, and
some new pieces. Including etudes 83 to 88, Stolen Moments (the 25-minute
response to jazz piece for 10 instruments for Merkin Hall) and some Hecuba music.
Also two flute etudes using specific techniques. Everything for the BMOP/Sound CD
(text, pictures, etc.) is just about ready, except for the actual music. Etudes Volume 3
from Bridge has been through first edits, having been recorded by Amy in June. And
that does it for now.
2008, the year in 320x240 pictures, monthly, is below. JAN the kitties enjoying the
side porch on a warm day FEB the special midwinter light on Great Road at sunset
MAR Beff on the phone with her sister shortly after I brought out the Adirondack
chairs APR grape hyacinths in the back yard MAY thunderstorm rolling across Lake
Champlain while we are in Burlington JUN Amy on the second day of recording
sessions JUL the Civitella Ranieri castle in context of the Umbrian hills AUG sunset on
Lake Champlain SEP the house with its new siding and painting OCT maple and
hydrangia foliage NOV Susan, Beff and Hayes hiking about the Tea Town Lake place
DEC Kitty TV shortly after the second snowstorm. Bye.

JANUARY 11, 2009. Breakfast this morning was fake eggs with a slice of cheese
cooked in the microwave (weird, but tasty), orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night
was leftover spaghetti and ravioli. Lunch was a leftover slice of pizza. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 4.6 and 42.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I
TYPE THIS The MIDI of the "Something will Happen" Hecuba cue. LARGE EXPENSES
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS None, really. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The one
time I got my name in the St. Albans Daily Messenger for a sports-related feat was in
a losing effort by our semi-pathetic freshman basketball team. Something like "Dave
Rakowski pumped in 8 in a losing effort." (It makes me think that "pumptinate"
should be a real word). I do recall that a little later a poem I wrote for an English class
with all the textbook hackneyed apposite-ironies ("Though I am blind, you think I
cannot see", etc.) was surreptitiously taken by my mother and caused to be
published in said newspaper. When my bestselling biography is written, this chapter
will not be held up as an example of early creativity (or, for that matter, standards).
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy
nuzzles at night, making it a chore to get out of bed to use the bathroom, or, indeed,
anything else that you can do when not in bed; and Sunny keeps wanting me to
follow him into the guest room to pet him on the sleeping bag. UPDATED ON THIS
SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Home, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
pluke, a derivation of the old Dutch word plook, and suspicions are it was
onomatopeoia for the sound of something being tossed into a bowl of water.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
16. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have never been to North
Dakota. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The phrase
"Ponzi scheme" is banished from newspapers everywhere and replaced with "Fonzie
scheme". No matter what I give here as an example of such a thing, it can't beat your
imagination, dear reader. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,880. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.59 in Maynard; it was $1.69 the next day. THINGS THAT
DON'T BELONG BETWEEN YOUR TEETH free credit reports, polka dots, ladybugs
(living or dead), the Triumphal March from Aida.
The dada paragraph that has been showing up here will be a sporadic feature
beginning in 2009, which is what it is, and what it is, too. This time we move on. But
we can hope for the best.
Welcome to 2009, which is the first odd-numbered year we've had in more than 350

days. It being school vacation, there is hardly much to report, since I've stayed at
home and worked, and occasionally have gone hog-wild with trips to K-Mart, Roche
Brothers grocery, and Trader Joe's. Don't that beat all. Nonetheless, like the Riddler
having to give Batman a clue before every job, I have a responsibility to infuse and
enfuse readers with ennui (and en nuit) at regular intervals. So lemme splain.
As I type this, six inches of snow showers is a-winding down outside, and even before
the semester has officialy gotten under way, I'm already thinking about soaking up
hurricanes in a culture-free society merely for the sake of the weather. Then I slap
myself silly (or sillier) and return to the angst, dry skin, and the sound of large snowmoving equipment, and marvel that all three are essential components to the
creative artist. You may have remembered that I reported the two foot-deep storms
around Christmas had mostly melted; now we have the detritus of a half-foot storm, a
slop storm, and a new powdery half-foot one to kick around. Cool. Cold.
So Beff and I rang in the New Year by being asleep. On a walk for supplies, I had
gotten a rose champagne at a convenience store, and that was our bubbly. We were
awake for British new year, but not our own. But dagnabbit, the next day it was
shonuff 2009. And strangely enough, all the checks I've written (one) have had the
correct year on them. How 'BOUT that! The New Year also coincided with the
continuation of my writing cues for the Brandeis production of Hecuba. To review, the
arc of the play is: I can't believe how bad things are, things are worse still, worse still,
things are only getting worser, woe, woe, woe, woe, revenge. And gouging eyes out
seems to be pretty much de rigeur in these old Greek plays. Which makes me think
that --- one of these days I'll make a pun on Incredible Edibles as Incredible Oedipals.
Right HERE, dear reader, your imagination kicks in.
Okay, that's long enough. Back to ennui.
So once I'd written a buttload of cues and sent them to the players, all that was left
was some chorus things for musical settings. Since the production is a new
adaptation from a fresh translation (it's an -ation fest! or perhaps, -ation fusion), I
can't set any of the myriad translations already in existence. My request for the text
by New Year's Day went for naught, and alas, I am still waiting. Which is cool,
because I thrive on deadlines even if others don't.
Meanwhile, Beff had to go to Maine for the meat portion of the week that just
transpired, to do Chair and teaching stuff, which gave me the house to myself. MWA
ha ha. So two of those days were spent activity-free -- indeed, for forty-eight hours I
lived to serve the needs of the cats, and if that included lying in the guest bed with
Sunny for extended periods, far be it from me to do actual work. After snapping out of
that, I moved on to actual composition (you may remember that I occasionally call
myself a composer), and so far, two pieces, with references below and to the left,
have sprung.
First, two of my double-fivers who are musicology grad students are doing a voice
and keyboard recital in the spring, and Gil (who often drops the "ad" in his name -Adgil is a funny name, anyway) suggested I write a piece for his freakish seventeenoctave voice using only the text "Hey Davy". Which I did on Tuesday morning (in the
middle of which I drove to the hardware store for ice melt and then to Dunkin Donuts
for coffee and a croissant). I have a Vocal Writer version of the MIDI which is funny
enough to withhold from you, dear reader. And the piece is called "High Def", which
has the same initials as the text that is set.
Wednesday was the Day Of The Slop Storm, and I was occupied during a lot of the

day with slop removal. It was almost a replay of the December ice storm, except here
there was snow under sleet under melting freezing rain under rain. And since our
plowing contract stipulates 3 inches before they plow, the 2-1/2 inches of slop, which
was very, very, very, very, very heavy to shovel had to be pushed aside by the
person who is typing this who loves to refer to himself in third person. They
sometimes like to refer to themselves in third person plural, even. So I, back into first
person, went out three times, putting the big hurt on the shoveling muscles, and as I
finished the third pass, the plow guys pulled up to the driveway and called out,
"Dave, you all set?" I think they only know one-syllable words.
So for the final part of the week, Beff returned and there was lovely salmon from BJ's,
chicken from Whole Foods, and chicken sandwiches to be had. And I had discovered
bird poop in a concentrated area on the front porch. Of course weather takes care of
that kind of cleanup, but it took me a little longer to discover that the light fixture on
the porch was not entirely glassed in, and that a bird (a nuthatch, I believe) was
using it as its winter home. And there was a well-organized bit of poop in the fixture,
too. SO I stuffed the fixture with newspaper (we can't turn on the light at the
moment), and chirped loudly at the encroaching bird -- I think I either used naughty
words in birdspeak, or I said, "wool on travesty shining". Birdspeak is a very delicate,
nuanced, tonal language.
Thinking about said bird somehow caused me to listen on Thursday morning to the
many birds (well, maybe a dozen) that were spending the winter here and doing calls
in the sunshine. It was really boring. Just a bunch of chips and chirps. So when
thinking about a tood idea, after piling through a few that were so much like other
pieces (some of them by me), a tood on two-note warbling figures was the one to
pursue, for at least three reasons: 1) I had no such tood already, 2) it's a strange
weird challenge, and 4) WTF? Plus, if you inflect the title just right ("This Means
Warble") you can get Beff to laugh. See yellow "Warble" link to the left. I finished said
tood yesterday morning while Beff was in Plaistow, New Hampshire for some sort of
chamber music festival thingie.
At the beginning of the week, I packaged up all the Fundamentals exams by students
that wanted them returned and put them in envelopes, then picked up all my other
Brandisian stuff and -- went to Brandeis! on its first open day since Christmas. Where
I got them ready to send out, and picked up a whole bunch of handouts for the
classes I am teaching this spring. Why? Because I can, but mostly because I can, but
even mostlier because Beff got me this lovely HP all-in-one with a multipage scanner
autofeed (now there's a title). And for most of the afternoon I used the hardware to
create lovely multipage PDFs of the standard handouts (for orchestration: 22
beginnings of piano music to arrange for various combinations; for Theory 2: various
sets of variations). Now the students can print them themselves, but more
pertinently, I can project them on the screen to refer to them in class. Technology is
best when you pronounce the "ch" like you are throwing up.
And then yesterday was a fun, fun, fun, fun day. Despite the looming snowstorm
(they say it's a clipper, but my fingernails are still the same length) and all, Beff did
an early morning drive to this Plaistow thing (up at 5:30, out the door at 6:30, back in
at 6:31, back out at 6:32), I finished the warbletude, and for the afternoon, I went to
the Joel Gordon house in Lexington (14.4 mile drive) to listen through the first edits
for the BMOP/Sound CD, which was a three-hour activity that was ... actually ... fun.
David Corcoran was there as the editor, Gil selected the takes, and we listened and
listened, perhaps rejecting about 15 takes and replacing them with other ones. Gil
had a complicated spreadsheet with all the takes, which was useful, since when I
heard, say, a cello pizz. a beat early, Gil could immediately point out all the other

takes with that excerpt, and dropping the other take in was fairly painless. At least for
me. And in one part of the piano concerto's cadenza, there is scimmiamerda stuff
where one important D major arpeggiation was good only in one take, but the other
takes were better around it, and ... ooh, am I giving away too many secrets?
Gil did mention that the scherzo of the piano concerto is "really hard". So hard, in
fact, that even the brass players kept their eyes in their parts instead of cutting up
and breaking out the beer (which is what I would have done if I were still a
trombonist). Gil, by the way, now has a beard. In fact, he has one more beards than
he does working furnaces, at the moment. As to the CD. Apparently it's got a
fantastic cover, but somehow, all I've actually seen of the print part is the track
listing. I was promised something to proof pronto (another great title I'l never use.
Okay, I take it back. It's not a great title). Amazingly, if things go as planned the CD
drops in February and is catalog number 1010. BMOP/Sound 1010 wins!
Beff, meanwhile, spent the night in or near Plaistow, thanks to the storm. Which is
probably a good thing. And when the storm finishes, she will up and drive all the way
to Maine. Because, as they say in Portugal (except when they don't), things are
ramping up again with a new school year. Including for me. No time for details, but I
have a gonzo time of it starting next week and going right up to about March 3. And
for the record, I am up and at them starting on Wednesday. Also for the record, I want
it to be much warmer, please.
1.

B. on a downtown walk last week, Beff and I saw a robin. Just sittin' there, not doin'
much of nothing. Not the first robin of spring, obviously, maybe the dumbest
one who doesn't even know when to migrate. Just as I said, "maybe he can't
fly", he up and flew away.
Today's pix begin with the end of this particular storm as viewed from the front and
back, the obligatory cat pictures, outdoor shots showing the fallen pine limbs and the
state of the pine trees currently, and a shot of our espresso-making accoutrements.
Bye.

JANUARY 30. Breakfast this morning was a bagel with light cream cheese, orange
juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was grilled salmon from Trader Joe's, asparagus,
and salad. Lunch was a Trader Joe's noodle meal. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE
LAST UPDATE -3.1 and 41.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fourth
movement of Cantina. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Driving and parking,
meals in New York, Virginia and Baltimore, Amazon.com purchases $146. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the late summer days of grad school, a bunch of us
used to do small softball games on the Princeton fields, and there were sufficiently
few of us on each team that only balls hit between second and third base were
considered fair balls. Lee Blasius was on the opposing team in one of those games,
and he kept grounding out. And I was playing shortstop. Near the end of the game,
he finally hit it very hard, but in a line drive right at me, which I caught. And he was
mad that the ONLY time he finally hit it hard, I caught it. My bad. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The cats were in
Maine two weeks and are back, and Cammy's sleep-on-Davy's head thing is
happening again. Meanwhile, Sunny is just very needy in the morning. UPDATED ON
THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
strischinar, very slightly derived from the Italian word for stripe, referring to the
icicles that form clinging to the sides of buildings. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I occasionally drink pickle juice, especially the brine in

which the PickleLicious hot pickles come in. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE
IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Wearing sunglasses night (so I can, so I can, keep track of
visions in my brain). PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,892. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.72 in Maynard, $1.67 on the Garden State Parkway, $1.94
on the Merritt Parkway. THINGS THAT LOOK BETTER IN THE DARK the economy,
swordfish entrails, the 12x12 matrix for the Schoenberg Violin Concerto, my winter
boots.
People on the left had to move in order for the ladybugs to get their hair wet. So we
put a Post-It into the trash next to Racine's Pizza. At Racine's you could draw a slash
through your zeroes to indicate frivolity, but they wouldn't give you a discount unless
you danced to the Adagio for strings.
19 days since the last update, and two major cold snaps have come through, and it's
been a total icebox. Plus, the last storm of a couple of days ago was a slopfest -snow to sleet to rain -- followed by frigid temperatures making for iciness wherever
you go. Since the last update, the last of the cues for Hecuba got written (by me), a
recording session got scheduled for them, school started, I took a long trip, I missed a
day to illness, and my employer became the object of much villification and handwringing in the local and national press. So, first things first.
Hecuba is over, and I have released the music, so to speak. I told J, the sound
designer, that he can use the 33 pages of music I wrote, once it's recorded, any way
he wants, including layered, backwards, speed-changed, sideways, what have you, or
even not at all. Eric, who was to get me words for the chorus to sing, was involved in
Brandeis emergency financial stuff as a member of the Senate council, so it came
late, but it did come, and my settings for the chorus were simple and within a small
range. And when it was done, there were scores and parts to produce, etc., all of
which finished just in time for school to start -- the Wednesday before MLK Day. Dear
reader, view the complete Hecuba cues with the link down and to the left.
And meanwhile, all the listening to the edits for the BMOP CD happened at Joel
Gordon's house -- first listening for edits, then sound quality and balance. Coolly
enough, the recordings had six tracks from six mikes, so one place where the piccolo
solo got buried, we were able to get it to the front of the mix. And so on, and so on. It
was a very fun couple of days with Joel and Gil. And Joel asked me to do a program
for an extension of the Art of the States project he runs.
Soon after, I got the drafts of the CD booklet and art to proof, and it was fun to do
that -- I had just a few comments. One WTF moment was an e-mail from Hannah
(who runs the BMOP/sound label) asking me to register the music with Harry Fox so
they could get a mechanical license, and I had no idea what that meant. It turns out
that Harry Fox is a mechanical rights agency that a lot of publishers use, but CF
Peters doesn't use them -- they take care of mechanical rights themselves. But now I
know what Harry Fox is, at least in musical terms. So I got no info about an expected
release date except that Gil had mentioned once the printing stuff was finalized, it
was two and a half weeks to when a release could happen. And then I found the CD
on amazon with a drop date of February 10. Woo hoo! Dear reader, BUY IT.
So I had a theory class and two orchestration classes to teach before the three-day
weekend -- which should have been for me a four-day weekend if Tuesday hadn't
been given a Monday teaching schedule. So in theory we listened to some Debussy
and talked about ideas of tonality and ideas of variation, and in Orchestration I gave
two rather dense foundational lectures -- including some terms that I think I may be
the only one to use, such as handoff, composite gesture, composite instrument,

timbre shift, etc. And as usual I used Manhattan Transfer's "On the Boulevard" to
show a subtly produced vocal handoff for a backup line that covers two octaves. The
class is slightly larger than the last time I taught it, and there seem to be fewer
players of orchestral instruments in it.
Beff and I spent our MLK break doing what we do best, except with a storm the day
before MLK Day, Beff had to go to Maine on Saturday, rather earlier than planned
(she had makeup lessons on MLK Day itself), and a strange storm droped nearly a
foot of the white stuff, so that meant snow-raking and shoveling off the flat roof
outside the master bedroom window. Which I did, Oscar, I did. That, and a bunch of
napping, dontcha know. We did do a little brief trip into Lexington downtown, eating
at Bertucci's, just for the fun of it, and also a Friday lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen,
just for the food of it, and it was good. Shortly we were to discover in the Boston
Globe magazine the Cast Iron Kitchen in the list of Great New Things In 2008 -"Finally Maynard has good food." Which was fatuous, since Maynard has always had
good food.
Later in the teaching week and at the beginning of the following teaching week I had
to execute a handoff of my own, as I had a long and complex professional trip to take,
and could depend on Yu-Hui to talk about clarinets in orchestration and variations in
Theory 2. So my Monday theory teaching happened on Tuesday and my Wednesday
teaching happened on Wednesday, followed immediately by me up and getting into
my car and driving to New York. But let me back up.
Because of this trip, Beff took the cats with her to Bangor on that day before the
snowstorm, which meant a strange emptiness in the house here during the dark
times -- every little creak or banging of radiators first gave the impression that a cat
was near. But alas, it was not so. On the plus side, there was no litterbox cleaning
duty or water-changing, etc. The cats returned last night with Beff and were glad to
be in a bigger house that has more warm places to sit (as Beff expresses it). After
some checking out the place to make sure everything was still as it should be, they
immediately wanted to go out the computer room window to look around, in the dark.
And so they did.
So first I went to New York, where I had a nice dinner with Sergio -- whom I know from
Civitella -- and his wife, who teaches at Columbia and thus I met them in Columbia
housing, very beautiful, renovated. We had a campari and wine drink from Civitella
and then went to a restaurant called Toast on Broadway and about 122nd for
excellent beer and a spectacular burger. At least mine was -- and I also got us an
appetizer of Buffalo wings, done in a nouveau way. Note to self: never be afraid to put
a little cilantro onto Buffalo wings. Woo hoo!
From New York it was on to Burke, Virginia where I stayed a few days with the
Colburns, took them out to an excellent barbecue meal, went to an excellent Marine
Chamber Orchestra concert, then did pizza and salty wet snacks with them before it
was time to retire. The concert was the same place Cantina was premiered, in
Alexandria, and was an all-Haydn affair -- the trumpet concerto and the Bear and
Military symphonies. The audience was very big and mostly AARP. The playing and
interpretation were very good, and I only caught a couple of clams, one in a second
violin upbeat, and one in a viola arpeggiation. I like Haydn, especially the part about
listening to it.
As to the barbecue, which was the night before the concert, I got us some Buffalo
wings, then I got the chicken and ribs combo plate, which came with all sorts of stuff
to fill you up. Including corn on the cob, which I had some of before I remembered

that corn is considered to be a possible cause of diverticulitis, and as you know, dear
reader, I am sucseptible therein. The post-concert meal was a bit of order-in pizza
that comes with potato on it (I didn't understand it either, but it sure was filling).
On Monday I had to drive to Baltimore but not until the afternoon, and the Colburns
had morning stuff to do, so it was just me and Winifred (the dog) for a while. I took
Winnie out for four walks, and she managed to expel waste on every one of them.
And meanwhile, the cheerful forecast of sunny days on Monday and Tuesday was
suddenly replaced by a winter weather advisory and a winter storm watch for
Weather to happen in the late night after the concert I was going into Baltimore for.
So I steeled myself to leave after the concert instead of the next morning, because I
have experienced Maryland drivers in the snow -- the same people who make a run
on bread and alcohol in the stores when a 2-inch snowstorm is forecast.
In any case -- the drive to downtown Baltimore from Burke involved using the famed
Washington beltway as a road, and I got to Baltimore rather more quickly than I had
planned. I parked in the neighborhood of the concert, had a chicken sandwich at a
pub, and when 4:00 finally happened, I checked into a hotel and took a nap. After my
nap, I packed my stuff and ambled to "An Die Musik", where the concert was
happening. And what was this concert? A full recital by Amy Briggs, including a Gusty
Thomas premiere, a David Smooke piece, and seven etudes of mine. Woo hoo! Amy
and David and Judah Adashi (who runs the series and whom I know from Yaddo 2006)
and I did a pre-concert thing with the usual questions about collaborations and piano
writing and inspiration. Then the concert began.
Amy's playing was, as usual, superb, and David and I had to say a few things before
our pieces, and I got a few yuks out of the usual jokes -- hey, after all, Amy was doing
Schnozzage, not that there's anything wrong with that. Rachel's mom was there, and
we got some autographs for her, there was a reception going on with lots of nice
people, pictures to be taken, and around 10:45 I ambled to the hotel, checked out
and got on the road. The master plan was to make it at least an hour into New Jersey
-- where there were no winter weather advisories -- and nap or sleep in a rest area.
But somehow my body refused to tire, so I kept going. After filling up in the Delaware
service center, I up and went into New Jersey, and just kept going. It was spooky to
have a large portion of the Garden State Parkway to myself, as well as the Merritt
Parkway in Connecticut, and durned if I didn't pull into my own driveway at 5:50 am.
So technically, I pulled an all-nighter. At 11:50 I reawakened from my postponed
night's sleep, dealt with a large pile of accumulated e-mails, and went back to bed.
And woke up with a stomach virus. So I stayed home. Did my Thursday teaching,
though, and I killed. Not literally. Beff got in the early evening with the cats, I made
salmon and so on, and today Beff had some oral surgery. Now she's high on Advil and
loving it.
Meantime, more people are asking for pieces to be written by me, and eventually
they will be.
Upcoming are two normal teaching weeks followed by, already, vacation. Then during
vacation I have to go to New York to meet with our accountant, take a train to Buffalo
for a residency with Amy at SUNY Fredonia (Hail!) and come back. Not really much of
a vacation, but it will have to do. Then at the end of the month it's a few days in
Cleveland, after which my schedule thankfully empties back up.
But it sure has been cold here. As the weather people mentioned on TV (so it must be
true), there was no January thaw this year. Cold damn.

Today's pictures begin with Gil Rose and Joel Gordon during the listening sessions -Gil is wearing a mask that Joel had just brought back from Mexico. Following, my CD
cover. Then a few highlights of the Marine Band display at the concert site, then two
examples of window ice from when it got REALLY cold. Bye.

FEBRUARY 15. Lunch today was a Three Cheese Flatbread Pizza and Turkey Hill Diet
Green Tea. Breakfast was microwaved fake eggs and cheese, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner was a half-rack of ribs, and onion strings. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
SINCE LAST UPDATE 2.8 and 60.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
Dancing Queen (thanks, Beff). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Shirts from
Sierra Trading Post, about 50 bucks, PickleLicious, about 90 bucks. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Back in my font-making days, a software company
offered me $5000 for a license to include 30 of my shareware fonts with their product
for a year. The catch was that they had to be PC fonts, which I could not do. So I
asked Eileen Wharmby, back in LA and a friend on the DTP forum on Compuserve, to
convert them for me, and things were under way. The $5000 went directly to
Columbia Composers, who bought a DAT recorder with the money for concerts, plus
had a few more players available that year. The company had an option for another
license after a year, but apparently they went out of business, or into another line of
work. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The
cats are on their way back to Maine, and both of them were needy all morning.
UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Compositions. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: starbo, apparently referring to maple sap still on the maple
tree that has frozen, melted, and refrozen several times. It is reputed to be a
delicacy, especially if you don't mind the taste of stick. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My socks are poorly organized. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Vice presidents with a 9 percent approval
rating keep their mouths shut after leaving office. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY:
12,928. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.87 in Maynard, $1.89 in Acton at
the place with a carwash. ROUND THINGS THAT WOULD LOOK FUNNY TRAPEZOIDAL
my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
No dada paragraph in this update. It is the day after Valentine's Day, and I am on
vacation. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Especially the being on vacation
part. Nonetheless. Plenty has transpired since the January 30 update, and it's not
very interesting at all.
First and foremost, there were two weeks of teaching and thirteen extra office hours
for students in second year theory, who are writing variations. Plenty of them availed
themselves, some a lot and some not so much. Plus, all of the brass section of the
orchestra has been covered in the orchestration class, and that involved plenty of
students (them) and faculty (me) demonstrating range, tone, mutes, and personality.
While the office hours for theory continued and they are still writing varations, I
started talking about writing for voice -- which included listening to a Wagnerian
baritone recording of the Slow March that Ives wrote at the age of 14 about the death
of his dog. Not on purpose, of course.
And meanwhile, there were TWO composer colloquia at Brandeis on consecutive
Thursdays -- Rosenzweig of the Morris variety, and Diesendruck of the Tamar variety.
Both were fun, worthwhile, and got the students talking. Of course thanks to the
economy we couldn't take either of them out to dinner, as has been the case in the
past. So we had to be sated with celery and cheap wine.

During this period, there were also three faculty senate meetings -- they're having a
lot of them, thanks to what's goin' down in the economy -- of which I could only
attend one. I was in Maryland for one of them, and was with the Lydian Quartet and
Yu-Hui recording the Hecuba music during the other one (it was called an
"emergency" meeting). The one I did attend was as it was designed to be, and it
made me late for the Diesendruck colloquium of the Tamar variety.
Meanwhile. Beff was able to make it Maynardwards both weekends, and we took our
customary walking rituals (we call them "walks"). On this weekend, on Friday
morning, Beff got the stitches out from her oral surgery, and was much relieved, what
with a piece of thread just rolling around in her mouth like that. While she was destitched, I was re-oiled, of the Corolla variety. At Jeefy Loob. After which I finally got
my car washed, since the weather lately has been responsible for Mr. Salty Car.
Indeed, that storm that chased me out of Baltimore so early arrived here a few days
later (Wednesday, to be exact), and slopped up the place, and for days slopped up
the cars. But you know that, dear reader. There was another Arctic blast after that
storm, which I had decreed would be the last. So far, so good. After almost a week of
sunny and very cold (meaning lots of icicles, and even the icicles clinging to the front
of our house, in the shade), we had a real thaw -- two of them, in fact, which even
included an overnight rainstorm with an hour-long downpour. This means all the
roofs, including garage, shed, and gazebo, are now free of snow, and little by little
the yard is reappearing. Beginning with near the stand of pines. And as a side note, I
calculate it is 24 to 29 days to the first crocuses. Not that there's anything wrong with
that.
Of course, no music has been written in this period, but plenty has been splained.
And some has even been recorded. But I am getting behind myself (assuming I
switch roles).
Tuesday of this week was the big day to record the cues for Hecuba (after which I
held two of those much-vaunted theory 2 office hours), and I must say it went rather
well. The Lyds and Yu-Hui were the performers, J was the recording guy, and there
were some undergrad sound people also there to get people to stop using practice
rooms. We put down 12 cues lasting around 20 or 25 minutes, and J did a rough mix
--- four of them are to the left and below, dear reader, in green. The in-and-out for the
piano in the Overture was a bit much for Yu-Hui, or anyone, so some of the inside
slapping and note stopping was done live, by me. Thankfully, there was no
conducting for me to do, too. Before everything was settled, I made some sound
effects inside the piano to be recorded -- harmonics and scratching -- and while
waiting for some people to be shooed from the practice rooms, the quartet recorded
some scratch tones, col legno, and glissandi, also to be used as sound effect. And so
it was. N.B. the two "chorus" cues accompany stuff to be sung by the (duh, Greek)
chorus, and are named after the most frequently used words in them.
And then at about 6:45 pm on Thursday my vacation kinda sorta started. Except for
the small matter of spending a large part of daylight hours yesterday with my
composer colleagues doing the first wave of graduate admissions. Any applicant
looking in to see your status therein, we made no decisions, and will meet next on
Monday the 23rd, which happens to be Droolie's birthday. And who is Droolie? You
have to ask?
When I got back from the meeting, Beff and I did the walk to the Assabet bridge by
the wildlife refuge and back, to be greeted on our return by a message from Mindy
Wagner -- she and her daughter Olivia were in Sturbridge in a hotel and how about

dinner? It being Valentine's Day, the Cast Iron Kitchen was booked up solid, so we got
a bar table at the Blue Coyote Grill, and spent the whole time being excessively silly.
Olivia is 10, so there's some energy there. Meanwhile, Beff and Mindy had soup and
salad, I had ribs, and Olivia had ... I don't remember. Before dinner, though, we
treated both Mindy and Olivia to at least four different kinds of pickles. After we
showed them the gazebo in the dark, they went back, where they plan to visit Old
Sturbridge Village today.
On Thursday, I got the second edits for Volume 3 of the 'Tudes with Amy, and on
Friday spent a large part of the day listening. I came up with a few small issues, but
they're almost ready, waiting just for the notes and album design, and rights
clearances, and all sorts of other little details that add up.
Meanwhile, another package arrived from PickleLicious, which is good, because I
ordered from them and they charged my credit card -- two gallons of hot pickles, two
quarts of spicy olives, one quart of jalapeno-stuffed olives. They will be closed up in
the basement for a little while, since the complicated second half of February will
soon be under way. And what does that mean? It means the complicated second half
of February will soon be under way, silly.
Tuesday I drive to New York, park, see Jonathan, our accountant, on Long Island, stay
in a hotel, have lunch with Greg of Merkin Hall Wednesday, Thursday take a 7:15
train to Buffalo. Rob "Rob" Deemer picks me up, and that night Amy and I gale and
regale a bunch of students and others at SUNY Fredonia, where it will not be hailing
(it may be snowing). Friday I do ... I don't know what I do during the day ... but at
night Amy does her Baltimore concert, possibly with a few changes. And there I will
be. Saturday, back to NYC by train, then drive back to Maynard from there. Long day.
Then teaching starts again, and Thursday of that week I fly to Cleveland, do things on
Friday, Saturday, Sunday at Cleveland Institute of Music, where Claude Baker will also
be resident, and Monday I fly back for my premiere of the Phillis Levin Songs with
Collage. I may not even hear a rehearsal before the performance!
And then things quiet down. At which point I will be saying that I expect the crocuses
in 9 to 14 days. But when I get back home, Beff will be back with the cats (you may
have noted that she took them to Maine with her a short time ago), indeed, having
been back with them for about four days. And she will be at the beginning of her twoweek school vacation. Whoopee!
And the only other thing that takes me out of town is, for the third time, an Amy
recital, on the 26th of March, at the University of Maine. I will drive straight from
Orchestration, and make little "zoom-zoom" noises with my lips the whole way. Amy
'n' Beff 'n' I will all be a-stayin' in the little yellow bungalow, so cramped quarters will
be the name of the game. Dimes, too.
Then it's like five or five and a half weeks of teachingness for me before our Passover
break starts. I can already hardly wait.
One other yet-resolved issue is the BMOP CD Winged Contraption. All the online
sellers have the release date as February 10, but my source (who runs the label)
doesn't expect "product" till the end of this week. And boy oh boy, then there'll be no
a-stoppin' me, no sirree bob. And with the cats out of the house again, it's weird
hearing creaks in the house and thinking it's one of them.
Today's pictures begin with a snap from right after Amy's Baltimore concert as I am
on my way out to drive a really long and dark time -- Judah Adashi, David Smooke,

Amy, moi -- under that the asymmetric melting on the gazebo, since only the part
that faces south melted -- to the right, the housicle on the front of the house from our
weird cold weather. Then, three snaps from the Hecuba recording session. Bye.

MARCH 6 Breakfast today was grapefruit, light breakfast sausage, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner last night was Whole Foods jambalaya, broccoli, asparagus, and salad.
Lunch was nonexistent unless one hot PickleLicious pickle counts as lunch.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 5.5 and 60.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The "Something Will Happen" cue from Hecuba. LARGE
EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Hotel in New York $335, internet access in New
York $28.08, Jonathan's tax return fee, parking in New York $152, parking at Logan
Airport $109, baggage fee on Continental $15 each way, various lunches and dinners
in Fredonia and Cleveland, final edits on etude CD $337.50. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, Mr. Bostwick, our music teacher, arranged
to send me to the high school district music festival at BFA, in which I played second
trombone. For some reason, I was also made to play a solo for the solo and ensemble
concert, and my selection was a cheesy arrangement of the triumphal march from
Aida. This would be my first encounter with Verne Colburn, who was my accompanist
(I didn't suck so much as I bit). As I may have reported in this space some time in the
past, I purloined my parts from that festival, got a tape of the concert, and played
along (much to the detriment of the sanity of my parents) for months and months
afterwards. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO
REPORT: They are very needy in mornings, follow us everywhere, and want kitty TV.
UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: trinstle, a wooden dowel painted with polka dots and used for
obscure sacred rituals by people whose names lack an "n". RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE Beff and I own three air conditioners, but usually only
install two -- the last time we installed the third one, in the guest room, a bird made a
nest on it and raised birdlets. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: The story of Moses is conflated with the plight of the Republican party, and
dittoheads are renamed bullrushes (rim shot, please). PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 12,942. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.87 in Maynard, $1.79 in
Maynard. THINGS THAT WOULD LOOK FUNNY WITH A LANDING STRIP my head,
ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
No dada paragraph in this update either. 19 days between updates, and we have to
hit the ground a-runnin'.
Since the last update, I have embarked on and returned from not one, but TWO
complex trips, had world premieres in not one, but TWO countries, stayed in a hotel
in New York City not one but TWO nights, and have done not one but TWO weeks of
teaching, after not two but ONE week of winter vacation. Are you still with me? You
can leave any time you want to, you know.
So first our wild and wacky weather. I hear from friends in New York that they got
some snow on Monday with this surprise storm that zipped up the coast and gave us
a big March snow (by virtue of the fact that it was snow, and in March), and they
(actual people, not straw men) were glad to see it because New York has had so little
this season. I'm here to tell ya that the Boston area is about two feet of snow above
the average for the winter, so come on over if you like snow, and while you're here,
shovel my driveway and walks for free. Free, I say, free! So the second half of
February featured a-warmin' temperatures (thanks to my banning another Arctic
outbreak, done in this space) and a slow retreat of the snow cover. Indeed, by last

Saturday all we had left was the piles made besides driveways and the shadiest spots
such as our front yard. Then, I got a call from Beff while I was in a restaurant in
Cleveland warning me that snow was coming on my "day of return" (so called
because it was the "day" of my "return") and indeed, she was right. Though Them
What Make got the amount wrong, as usual. It was apparently a full-bore clobber, but
only about 8 inches, not the double that that was a-fear'd. Hee hee, I said "that that".
So now the narrative. On the Tuesday of my vacation week I drove to New York City,
parked, took my luggage and computer to Penn Station, had lunch at Charley O's,
took a train on the LIRR to Lynbrook, and had my appointment with Jonathan for our
taxes. This was a wild and wacky event that featured Jonathan leaving for a haircut in
the middle of my appointment, and watching Geoff Burleson playing Clave on
YouTube while Jonathan told a secretary "that's Geoff!" The K-1 from Beff's father's
estate is STILL not here, so he can't complete the returns yet, but onward. So back
got I on a LIRR train to Penn Station, and checked in I did at Park Central Hotel. Which
had a super-discounted rate, and is right acoss the street from Carnegie Hall. And I
didn't even have to practice! The super discount rate was a mirage, however:
breakfast was not included (thus I got myself a nice little breakfast for $14 across the
street), and internet access was $14.04 per day. Rasta rattin frattin.
Wednesday was a free day, so I did free things. Also, I took Greg Evans -- director of
Merkin Hall -- to a nice Japanese place around the corner for lunch, and we talked
about hall directing things. Then I bedded early because I had an early train to have
been catching. Which means that on Thursday morning I up and walked the whole
distance from the hotel to Penn station, beginning at 5:45 am. For you see, I was on a
train, in business class, destined for Buffalo-Depew station in order to spend some
time at SUNY Fredonia with Amy B and Rob Deemer. The trip was long, but I could do
e-mail on my phone, and read stuff, and listen on my iPod, and see the GORGEOUS
Hudson River scenery for the first two and a half hours, and watch the scars of the
December ice storm in the forested regions transform gradually from severe to
nonexistent. I also used the bathroom. And learned, for the first time, that Rochester
has skyscrapers. And that Rome's train station is officially what you would call
piddlin'.
Rob and Amy picked me up at the station and drove us through a bit of lake effect
snow to Fredonia (they are so hardy up there that they don't consider driving difficult
until it is complete white-out, which it was not) and to our vintage 1880ish hotel in
downtown Fredonia. And boy was it cold! So after some setup and Amy's getting used
to the piano in the hall, we ate with students in a cafeteria, and then did our
presentation thing. It included both of us talking about our history, about toods, and
Amy playing several both live and virtually (projected on the back wall from my
laptop). Things finally got interesting (and possibly useful for the composition
students) when we responded to questions and stopped using the microphones. Then
back to the hotel for a beer (Southern Tier, on tap) and wi-fi (which worked in the
hallway but not in my room).
Friday was a dense day, which included lunch with Rob at "Wing City" -- of the 15 or
so wing varieties, we went with "Buffalo hot" and "Japanese", a public colloquium (I
did the piano-etudes-lead-to-piano-concerto spiel), bloody Maries, the actual concert
by Amy (smokin') in which I did my usual Davyspiel before my pieces, and a party at
the hotel afterwards that featured cheesecake. I had SO much fun there and Rob was
SUCH a gracious host and I ate SO many Buffalo wings that ... fill in the blank here
and you may win a free glass of orange juice!
Next morning we were driven by Jay to the train station (me) and airport (Amy) and

my ride unfortunately featured the transformation of business class to a frat house,

as a bunch of loud and profane guys were a-takin' the train (or, in their words, the
fuckin' train) to a prize fight at Madison Square Garden. Most of the guys had laughs
that sounded exactly like Saturday Night Live parodies, but hey, I was a-livin' it!
Anyway, when we were a half hour shy of Penn Station, suddenly the train stopped
for a long time. A bridge had been raised for a boat and would not settle back down,
and that bridge was on our path. So after a long delay, the train backed up and got
onto Metro North tracks, then left us off at Spuyten Duyvil station, where a Metro
North train came to take us to Grand Central Station (much to the delight of people
already at the station waiting for a train to Grand Central who suddenly got to ride
one for free). An hour and a half late we were, and in I got into a cab, got my parked
car, and drove to Maynard. I arrived safely home at 8:30, thus making the length of
my entire trip 13 hours and 15 minutes. Or, as my business class mates would have
put it, fuckin' 13 fuckin' hours and fuckin' 15 minutes.
Sunday was my day of rest, and gearing up for teaching. For you see, I had to rest,
and gear up for teaching. And teach I did. Wind ensemble in 'stration, and vocal
writing in 'eory. But on Thursday out I was to go again, this time to Cleveland to see
my old friend Keith Fitch at Cleveland Institute of Music, and Claude Baker, who was
also out to be a-hangin' there. But I did not have to leave my house until 11 am, and
it was kinda nice out. So I took some excess energy, removed two of the fence
sections damaged in the ice storm, and stuck them in the leaf discard area. And
THEN I drove to the airport. Uneventful was what was next, Mike Bratt picked me and
Claude up at the airport, and Claude and I talked about old times and outpunned
each other gradually. We got put into the Glidden House for four nights, and it is right
next door to the CIM, and across the street from a ho-hum Frank Gehry building (oh,
look -- it's got nonfunctional curvy metallic stuff on it like every other Frank Gehry
building). Keith took us out to dinner next door to the Glidden House at Sergio's, a
really fine restaurant, and on Friday we started our official duties.
Which for me included three coaching sessions with each of two groups -- Take Jazz
Chords people and Gli Uccelli people. I'd never had that much time with groups, and
especially groups that were already so well-prepared, so I had a hard time thinking of
more things to say. Other than "well, you missed the C-sharp this time". In addition,
Claude and I gave back-to-back colloquia (I did the piano concerto spiel again) on
Saturday and masterclasses on Sunday (I had a great time at mine, and the students
were very different from each other), a pre-concert thing on stage Sunday afternoon,
and the concert itself, on Sunday. Everything went very well, and Keith's new piece
on the concert was earthshakingly new and different for him, and good! Then, the
reception was at Keith's house, food was had by all, Claude and I got some Burger
King on the way back to our hotel, and we left for the airport, thanks to that same
Mike Bratt, at 9:15 ("the crack of dawn", Claude called it) on Monday.
Now there was all this talk about a major snowstorm a-ridin' up the east coast on
Sunday night and Monday, and I had visions of flights cancelled and having to rent a
car to drive back, but my plane left and landed on time, I drove back home from the
airport -- the highways were clear but the further from a highway one ventured, the
more snow was left unplowed, and I live somewhat far from highways -- had a bit to
eat, put on a stupidass tie, and Beff and I then drove to Alewife in order to make that
night's Collage concert, featuring Judy Bettina and the premiere of my Phillis Levin
Songs. The concert was off, off, and back on due to the storm (Judy knows Karen
Zorn, the president of Longy, who opened the building for them, and it turns out
Karen has played my music with Judy's husband Jim "Jim" Goldsworthy), and the
performance was the first time I got to hear the music.

The concert itself was substantial and with a lot of hard music, and my piece came
off very nicely. Though since I don't really remember my piece, I forgot to try and like
it, so so far I don't because, like I already said, I don't remember it. But the fast stuff
was very attractive on first hearing, and the slow stuff seemed too loud. Something
to fix for next time. David Hoose did an amazingly good job for a big, big concert. And
Beff did the driving home. Good thing, because Brandeis had a snow day (that's a
non sequitur) meaning I didn't miss my Monday teaching. MWA ha ha!
Tuesday I went in to have office hours to assist theory students who are writing
songs, Wednesday I did my usual teaching, Thursday I did my usual teaching plus 3
office hours for theory students, and then my weekend began. And here I am! Typing!
On a computer! Today after this is finished, Beff and I will walk downtown and do
lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen, which is always good because it's the only place I can
get one of our old standby "tremendous" beers -- Rapscallion, which they have on
tap. And at 3 we get our yearly furnace maintenance that comes with our
maintenance contract.
Other things to occupy my time include reading the daily Hecuba rehearsal updates -at some point I am teaching the sung parts to the singer in the chorus -- and seeing
in those updates how the music is being used, and now it has names that everyone
uses. Including a Starry Night cue, which baffles me. I've also begun filling in my
yearly Activity Report online, which is time-consuming, and, ultimately pointless,
since it's a basis for yearly raises, of which there likely won't be any for the next three
or four years anyway. Plus, I have indulged the obsessive side of my nature by
"finishing" the plowing/shoveling job by widening the driveway, making it bow at the
end, and making the front walk path less asymmetrical.
And my LL Bean lighted cap's battery gave out, so Beff got me a new one online. It
arrived, and has a different design -- mostly so that now you can actually replace the
battery when it is expended. As to the old cap -- we threw it away! And the on-off
button is now on the visor instead of on the back of your head. So there.
What else have I done? Well, Judy Sherman sent the second edits and Amy and I sent
in our notes. Now the Amy Volume 3 Toods thing has been mastered, I have a
reference master CD, and I've paid the last for editing. It's ready to go, awaiting only
production, the writing of the liner notes, and the selection of pictures and a cover.
Not in that order, of course. As to the BMOP/sound CD -- I got e-mails from Hannah,
the label's manager about production delays, with new arrivals predicted at February
18 and then March 2, and yesterday I got a note that they had arrived at BMOP and
my comps were to be mailed out the same day. I expect them today, unless UPS or
the Post Office suck as much as Them What Make. Or as my business class mates
would call them, Them What Fuckin' Make. Of course that means some time spent
sending free copies to People I Wish To Impress. I've already characterized this CD -hey, 65 minutes of orchestra music, dude -- in my Activity Update as "take all my
existing CDs, add them up, and multiply by 5. Add whipped cream to taste".
Meanwhile, Geoffy played a mean and badass concert in Canada that included the
world premiere of my prog rock etude (among other things), and he repeats that
concert at Hunter College on Monday. Thus making it the AMERICAN premiere of my
prog rock etude. As they say in the oboe magazines, I rock. As they say in the
bassoon magazines, rocking is done by me. I don't understand the joke, either.
If Stacy reads this update, I fully expect another "Hello, Mr. Wordy" e-mail from her.
Because with her, accuracy counts.

So I had banished Arctic outbreaks from this area of the country, but apparently my
banishment expired at the end of February. We had two days of it after the storm, but
now spring temps have taken root, and are forecast to do so for some time now. Now
I'll be seeking out the first crocuses, and taking lots of pictures of them, which will be
nearly identical to all my crocus pictures from 2001 through 2008. But they will be
mine. This coming Wednesday is the date of the earliest ones in my Maynard history,
and the Friday of the week after that the latest. So I give this new snow until Tuesday
to melt, otherwise I will make it go away by other nefarious means not yet known to
me.
Beff is in Maynard for her two-week winter vacation, so there is much to do at home.
Including actually cooking every night. She'll be away Sunday to Tuesday for chair
stuff, but back she will be for the last bit of her vacation, and perhaps we will share
crocuses. She is writing a piece that uses guitar, so the dining room has a guitar
corner, which includes the appropriation of the organ bench as a guitar stand.
Fascinating.
One more thing -- while I was in Fredonia, Maynard Door and Window replaced the
can't-really-open-it, deteriorating big door from the side porch with a new high quality
model that actually has keys and can be opened all the way. Which is a good thing -moving the chaise lounges to the porch from the gazebo had to involve the kitchen
and living room. Now moving them back doesn't. Also, I tell you now, when the back
lawn becomes bare up to the driveway snow pile, out come the Adirondack chairs.
Because, dear reader, I am a big fan of false recapitulations.
Upcoming is -- uh oh, I forgot I said I'd do this -- a colloquium at Brandeis, about me,
and by me, on Thursday. It will actually be the first I've done in ten years -- the other
being at the behest of Jim Olesen, who wanted to hear my then-new Orpheus piece
and couldn't make it anyway because chorus meets at the same time. I was asked for
a title for the talk, and I passed up "Some Crazyass Shit" in favor of "Fanfares and
How to Read" because it's much more mysterious. And printable in a family
publication. On the 21st Geoffy comes up to do a benefit recital for Musica Viva at the
home of a local media celebrity, and I am to go, too (yes I will wear a tie, and
nonwhite socks). It will be interesting to observe funding people watch a piano being
played with the nose. On the 26th I drive to Maine after teaching Orchestration for
Amy's U of Maine recital, where I will again give live program notes. And hope to eat
a bit at the Sea Dog, because eating at the Sea Dog is what I do. Mr. Wordy.
Today's pictures include the metro north station where I changed trains, as seen by
my phone; our new door, roof ice from most recent storm getting a-ready to fall; a
sapsicle on one of our maple trees (it is toward the center of the pic); the
rhododendron looking for a reason to start flowering; and the back yard two days
after the storm. Bye.

MARCH 16 Dinner tonight was a Lean Pocket sandwich. Lunch was Trader Ming's Pad
Thai. Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST
UPDATE 19.1 and 61.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the slow
movement of the Ravel Concerto in G. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS
Stepladder at Ace Hardware, $83. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: At the
Messenger Street school -- a four room school teaching grades 1-4 and in my
neighborhood -- we had a game we'd play before school and during recess. Someone
we be "it" and called Mr. Fox, and the non-"it" people would collect at the edge of the
schoolyard. One would call out "What time is it, Mr. Fox?" to which Mr. Fox could say
anything. But if Mr. Fox said "Midnight!" then everyone had to run to the other side of

the yard without being tagged by Mr. Fox. I don't remember any other details of this
game, or even why we played it so much. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK:
0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They go out a lot now, and when there is nothing
else to do outdoors, they just go under the gazebo. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS
WEEK: This page, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: zippamoosh, a prosthetic
elbow for retired gunslingers. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE I can say and write "antidisestablishmentarianism" backwards on command.
WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The headline "Cheney
In the News Again" is forever banished from all media outlets. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 13,032. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.87 in Maynard. THINGS
THAT YOU DON'T USE TO MAKE PANCAKES my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole
covers, 'Round Midnight.
Intransigence returned for a curtain call, and the dogs loved it. Or at least they did
until the batteries wore out and we all had to remove our socks. But when the doctor
arrived, the chicken snot was so full of licorice that we had to make people out of
straw, and we discovered that there weren't enough washcloths. Maybe the fortuitous
thing is that nothing caused the pinkness.
Oddly enough, another update a mere ten days since the last one. There must be
something wrong with me, and shame on you for thinking that. Actually, much to
report has transpired, and those of you who have been waiting with bated breath,
and baiting with weighted breath about the appearance of the first crocuses shall
have your answer. All in good time, my dear.
But first to report that Brandeis continues to be USC, only even moreso.
Secondly, we report that during most of this reporting period Beff was at home, and
thus doing at home things, such as being at home. See, this is why Fortran doesn't
allow recursion. She's been writing a piece for guitar and other instruments (or as
they say in Italy, per chitarra ed anche altri strumenti) with an intrada and a galliard,
and for the movement that was to be a sarabande, she asked for a hipper title, given
that it had what she called "techno" elements to it. In our usual "what's my title?"
walk, I suggested Techno Prisoners and Techno For An Answer, but those got shoved
aside in favor of Zarabanda, which apparently was supposed to mean Big Sarabande.
I suggested therefore Zanzarabanda, or Band of Mosquitoes. I won. I rule.
And also Beff participated mightily in some very serious spring cleaning, thus making
useless two of Beff's shirts. We removed the screens from the side porch, and Beff
sprayed them all with the Tilex bleaching stuff, and she also sprayed the whole porch
in areas that seemed to have accumulated mold. In addition, she was able to wash
the INSIDE of the windows for the first time in maybe twenty years. So it's brighter
out there. My only job was taking off and putting back the screens, which given how
long they've been in one place, was not easy. Indeed, one screen could not be
removed because in trying to remove one of the screws holding in it, I could only
break the screw. So I used the stepladder that we had bought so Beff could get up
close to the ceiling there to clean the inside of the windows, opened up, from the
outside. Which was a real trip, considering that one of the four legs of the ladder had
to be on a frozen snowbank.
And meanwhile, I taught at Brandeis -- lower strings, with live demos, in
orchestration, and Nuages in theory followed by performances of their art songs. I
also spent a not inconsiderable amount of time working on my yearly activity update
for my place of employ. I always wonder why one of the things you fill out is when

your office hours were -- why does anyone care? And in today's theory class I did the
cosmic lecture -- what makes something tonal, and how do you write music that's not
tonal, and where do you get the permission slip. Etcetera.
Meanwhile, as predicted, I got my comps plus fifty more copies of the BMOP CD
(Winged Contraption), which has now been released and press released and is the
BMOP/sound official March release. See link below for the press release (mwa ha ha).
Being that I was so accustomed to the all the music on live recordings, it took me a
while to get used to this CD's big big sound and different balances, but it is totally arockin', I tell you, a-rockin'. Gil's effort was Herculean, and I'm not sure which mythic
figure to reference for Marilyn's effort, but it was big, big, big. I sent out a bunch of
copies to people I wish to impress, gave some around at Brandeis and listened to it a
few times with headphones. With headphones you hear traffic in Worcester during
the piano concerto, but hey.
And I didn't play ANY of it when I gave my Brandeis colloquium. Yes, I was made to do
such a thing, and I played, in order: Violin Song 4, Moody's Blues (from YouTube), Sex
Songs, Martian Counterpoint, and Cantina. I got funnier as the talk went along -either that or people finally started understanding my accent.
See Reviews 4 for reviews of Don Berman's New York concert that included the two
"pretty" toods I done wrote for him, and reviews of the Collage concert with the Phillis
Levin Songs. Did *you* spot which one called me Daniel?
During non-teaching times, and especially when the weather was good, I did outdoor
work around the stand of pine trees. Mostly, clearing out the crappy area that was
formerly behind the fence we don't have any more because of the falling branches in
the ice storm of December, and clearing out some more fence area. It involved 15
wheelbarrow loads of detritus, and a bit of repositioning of older branches. But we
make some excellent progress. Soon Assabet Tree Service will have to come to take a
bunch of this stuff away, and for the time being they may have a hard time getting
their equipment in because the neighbor put a big pile of his snow in our yard -- right
where the truck would have to come in. So Beff did a lot of raking, as did I, and I did
the carting off. I also started clearing up the snowplow detritus from near our
driveway, where there will have to be grass seed planted when the big snow pile
finally melts. So there.
We had two quite mild weekends, and dear reader, I am pleased to announce a new
record for first crocus -- on Saturday the 7th, about 4 or 5 cropped up, and by Sunday
-- which was near 60 degrees -- there were a few dozen in evidence. And no insects.
True to New England weather, on Monday the 9th there was a 2 or 3 inch snowstorm,
which the crocuses weathered swimmingly (so to speak), all the while remaining
closed up. And true to New England weather, it stayed coldish through Wednesday
even though it was sunny, so the snow slowly melted but the crocuses remained
closed. By Thursday we were doing the side porch thing, and by the weekend it was
mild again, and many, many crocuses were in evidence. So there.
Other than that -- Beff had gotten me some more LL Bean baseball caps with the
lights on the visor since the old one (remaindered, I think) ran out of battery and
there was no way to replace it. The new ones DO allow you to replace the battery -and I gave one to Eric Hill, who had drooled over the former, working version of the
cap at a faculty senate meeting.
This week there is -- duh -- more teaching, and at the end of the week -- Saturday
evening, to be exact -- Geoffy will be here to do a benefit for Boston Musica Viva. I

have been listed on the composer committee for that, AND Geoff is doing two toods
at the benefit, being held at the home of a local retired media celebrity. Beff will go,
too. And Beff rhymes with Geoff, even in an imperfect world. Next Thursday is Amy
B's U Maine recital, and I will drive to it (a mere four hour jaunt) after I finish with
Orchestration. On THAT day we will have looked at the pedal timpani and gone ooh
and aah. Then just a week and a half of classes till Passover break ...
The cats have much enjoyed the outdoors, especially this part where there aren't any
bugs yet. Indeed, while I was sitting on an Adirondack chair, a fly landed on my leg
and was too dumb to fly away when I swatted it. Oh, and the warm weather
accoutrements now in place are thos same Adirondack chairs, the hammock (also
needed to be sprayed with Tilex mold removeness), and the furniture and cushions in
the gazebo. And the automatic door closer in said gazebo -- busted. I blame society.
Stacy did indeed read the last update and said she craved accuracy not so much as
she craved brevity. I replied, "Blp."
Today's pictures include: this year's first crocus pic; Sunny on the gazebo on the
same day; crocuses in snow; the screens awaiting a good a-sprayin'; the porch and
the stepladder at the ready; a spread of crocuses a few days ago; and a before and
after of part of the cleaned up area 'neath the spreading pines. Bye.

MARCH 31 Breafkast today was orange juice and coffee. Lunch was Annie Chun's
Kung Pao noodles. Dinner last night was a forgettable Lean Cuisine microwave meal.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.4 and 64.6. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Trumpet solo in the fourth movement of the
Rakowski Piano Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS Brush and ice storm
detritus removal, $300; vacuum cleaner, $134. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: When Beff 'n' I got married, Jeff Nichols and Allen Anderson were
there to help out with Bible readings. Beff's college roommate Joan was the minister
who married us, and set up a nice gender-neutral ceremony. Thus she had to
interrupt Allen in the rehearsal when he did his reading more or less from force of
habit -- "What God has joined, let no man rent asunder." "Let no *ONE* rent
asunder!". That was a close one. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE
CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Since the cats go out a bit more often, Sunny is often out
and gets excited at the drop of a hat, often climbing a few feet up the big trees
before jumping down. Cammy still sleeps practically on my face at night. UPDATED
ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 4, Compositions, Bio. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: ploost, the fabric on the corner of a lace handkerchief.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I haven't jumproped with my
sweater in at least five years. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Free coffee on Tuesdays.. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,077. WHAT I
PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.91 in Maynard, $2.06 outside of Bangor, $1.94 in
Maynard. THINGS THAT TASTE BETTER WITH A DASH OF LEMON my head, ladybugs, a
tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
Siblings are to the Chattanooga Choo-Choo what flashlights are to the economy of
northern Brazil. Some of us remembered that on the test, but the points of light that
seven of us didn't know about had been hanging at the end of a cigarette butt. The
usefulness of that information was superceded by the color of a stick.
Where does the time go? Into a sinkhole? It seems like yesterday I last typed in this
space. As it turns out, it was two weeks ago. Turn around and she's a young girl going

out of the door!

The teaching of stuff continues on apace. We've been in a very pleasurable DebussyRavel rut in Theory 2, which has left a very nice Impression, and notice the
capitalization there -- superious to Citibank's (rim shot). Tomorrow we do Berg and
Dallapiccola, and what it is, too. In orchestration, we moved beyond string section
writing into percussion, which turns out to be a huge topic -- I'll have to tie up some
loose ends there tomorrow before I move on to the most confusing subject of all: the
harp! Did Columbus Bring Enough Food to Go to America? The first of the percussion
days began in the percussion practice room, where Josh, who is a student in the
class, demonstrated a bit of everything from marimba to temple blocks (not
alphabetically -- that went all the way up to xylophone, because there were no
zygotes in the room). The second started in the recital hall, where everybody got to
play with the pedal timpani. And at my urging, Josh showed them the suspended
cymbal roll on the timpani with the pedal moving. Ooooh! I just hope that effect isn't
like the octatonic scale is with a lot of composers -- something you regret ever
showing them.
That weekend with the Boston Musica Viva benefit (say that five times fast) was
actually rather big. The "media personality" at whose house it was was Joyce
Kulhawik, formerly the arts reporter at Boston Channel 4, and the living room, with its
20-foot ceilings and balcony seating, was well-suited for a Geoffy piano recital.
Geoffy, of course, stayed here, utilizing Brandeis for his day's practicing and Joyce's
house for his recital prep, and the next morning he had to be off bright and early.
Which doesn't mean we didn't make breakfast for him (Trader Joe's microwave French
toast, and bagels). Geoff did some Liszt and Ravel, as well as two toods by me
(Schozz and Moody's Blues), encoring with mine own Dorianski Blueski. It was
fantastic. Dignitaries were there being dignified, and there was calcium being
calcified, and never did any of that twain stuff meet. Except, of course, for the long
twain wunning. Somebody stop me. We had to get there in the dark, and what
seemed on Google Maps to be straightforward turned out to be anything but, which
made us glad for our Garmin.
Geoff also brought programs from recent concerts where he'd done toods, two of
which were the world, and then American, premieres of the prog rock etude I wrote
for him, and on Rick Moody's suggestion. And he brought the recording of the
American premiere, which I duly captured, and put into my webspace. Listening to it
made me smile -- it is such a silly concept, and carried out sillily. See green "Prog
Springs Eternal" link below and to the left. So then Geoff left, on Sunday morning,
right around the same time as Beff.
And then, as has been the case for much of this month -- the weekend weather was
a-gorgeous. Beff had had to go back a bit early for a concert on Sunday, but we did
that nice walk thing -- even making the complete river circle thing we do. And during
the week that followed, Amy B came to Maine for a concert, and drove I there to do
our patented live tood program notes thing.
So after was done my teaching on Thursday, up drove I to Maine, getting to the
University around 5. Beff and Amy were in Beff's office, and Amy had done her
masterclass and practicing. So we had a light snacky dinner, went to the hall, and
tried to warm it up with the stage lights. Because, you see, it was kind of cold. A
small but very distinguished audience came to the concert, Amy did notes for all the
pieces but mine, and her performances of nearly all the seven toods she did were
among the best ever. After that, the three of us along with Jack Burt, the trumpet
teacher, went to Woodmans in Orono for some beer and Buffalo wings (it was "b"

night, luckily), and then at our teensy place in Bangor, we gave Amy the master
bedroom while Beff and I took a futon on the floor of the computer room. The nice
thing was the gel pillows from Tar-Zhay that Beff had secured, which were nice, and I
liked them. And even brought them back to Maynard.
And back I brought them. But on Friday morning I had to get the Amester to the
Bangor airport so she could return Chicagowards, and it was a pretty short drive. I got
to show her our old house (so I did), which was on the way, but only if I went the way
I did (which I did).Then drove I back to the house, had some of that coffee-flavored
coffee drink, and drove home.
Now the previous weekend I started work on, and finished, etude number 90, a
Goldietude, in honor of Marilyn Nonken's new daughter Goldie Celeste. Being that
Goldie's full name is Goldie Celeste Hunka, the tood turned out to be on G-C-H, her
initials. And what the heck, it's the first tood that is largely a process etude. No more
details, except that some measure lengths shrink and grow by mechanical formulas
much too complicated for your average platypus to understand. Plus it's got a long
ostinato on the pattern where the cross accents are also the pattern. As we say in
northern Tripoli, big yawn there, pardner. In any case. I finished it, you can see it via
the red link to the left, and by finishing it I also finished Etudes Book X. Which has
been sent to Peters, because it is what I do.
Also what I do is obsess -- in a mild way -- on my faculty activity report. Which is the
report that determines the raises that no one is getting for next year, but might
happen in the future if we all behave and don't steal too much honey; it also involves
me having to update my resume, list of compositions, and press, which is no small
feat. So finally on the weekend I finished and submitted it. Then during the teaching
week I learned from Elaine Wong (a Senior Associate Dean, thus making her acronym
SAD) that I am to receive Brandeis's highest teaching award at the Faculty Meeting
this Thursday. It is actually a, um, kind of secret until then, but you, dear reader, get
advanced notice of this. See the barely visible blue "Award" link to the left. Ignore the
part about a "stipend", which in a USC year is just a word. I always thought (and may
have said in this space) that if I was ever offered a teaching award that I'd turn it
down. But when the call happened, my tongue was tied (I had been practicing sheep
shanks), so I said Phbblt Yrx ("thank you" with tongue untied) and also acceded to the
dreaded thing that happens when well-meaning people give you awards: the speech.
Yes, I have to say a few words at an Appreciation Dinner, and I have to go to
Commencement and sit on the Dais (or the 'Deis Dais, as they might say, if they are
very silly), where the award awarding is reenacted. Luckily my robe has orange
stripes.
MEANWHILE, that last weekend, the Assabet Tree people came over on Saturday
morning to give an estimate to clear out all the very very much detritus, both from
fallen limbs in the December ice storm and lots of tree trimmings from the last five or
six years, plus finishing the takedown of the apple tree, and a mere two hours later
the truck and the chipper were in the yard, going a-nuts. And they got it all! Plus it
being spring and the truck being quite heavy, the far back yard is now textured -- it
could be a teensy weensy motocross track, actually. It will be fun mowing that yard,
since it will mostly feel like you're hitting turbulence. Or something. Plus, there was
raking and packaging of sawdust, etc. to do. PLUS, an indentation in that yard that
had been getting lower and lower got filled with extra dirt that the snowplow had left
us, along with some bags of topsoil. And in it I planted grass seed. Why wouldn't I?
And as to the scars left by the snowplow -- I planted grass seed there, too, and
watered it. And then nature itself watered it.

And then Beff got back for the weekend on Saturday. I made some of that snacky
chicken stuff on the outdoor grill, and the drippings made for some bigass flamy
things I like to call "flames" that charred our dinner a bit. So I must clean that gross
stuff out. But meanwhile, it made me think we need a new grill, so Beff started doing
the online research. A new grill. I want it. Oh yes, and since Saturday was such
gorgeous weather, we spent much of it outdoors, and I spent time both on the
hammock and gazebo and took my ritual yearly pictures holding a beer in both
places. You will see them below, dear reader. As to the crocuses -- they are gone by
now, though the bigger versions of said crocuses are multiplying in many neighbors'
yards. The rhubarb is emerging, and the grass slowly greens. So Saturday was a
lovely outdoor type day. Unlike Sunday, which was torrential rain (it came in torrents,
hence the term).
Beff decided it was time for a new vacuum cleaner (since the old one either sucked,
or stopped sucking), and her sister had recommended the Bissel pet hair remover
model. So it was a morning, in the torrenting rain, to drive Tar-Zhaywards -- which in
Framingham borders BJ's. So we made it a double trip -- BJ's for massive quantities of
paper towels and toilet paper (or, excuse me -- bathroom tissue -- for those of you
with delicate constitutions) and Campari tomatoes (a Davy weakness), and it turned
out BJs also had that model of vacuum cleaner, $15 less than had been in evidence
at Tar-Zhay. So that's what we got. At Tar-Zhay, we got more gel pillows, and a pair of
French press coffee makers. As well as some kitty treats. Because, well, because it is
what we did. And we got them back in the house, we assembled the vacuum cleaner,
and Beff let 'er rip on two bits of rug she'd vacuuumed the day before: the new
vacuum cleaner sucked up a pile of cat hair from them the size of two fists (or one
fist, twice). The sound of the vacuum also probably made the neighbors think we'd
invited the percussion ensemble to the house to rehearse.
Nonetheless. Beff is currently in South Carolina at Coastal Carolina University, where
she has a premiere and masterclasses. She then flies back to Boston, drives with her
violin teacher colleague -- who will just have gotten off a bus from Bangor -- to New
York for a festival, where she will stay with -- ka-ching! -- Hayes and Susan, and both
will drive back on Friday. At which point our plan is to eat at the Cast Iron Kitchen,
because -- well, you know what's coming -- because it is what we do. Saturday we
plan to see the matinee performance of Hecuba at Brandeis, for which I wrote
incidental music. And then next Wednesday -- is the day before Passover. I must
teach, but then I have about 12 days off. Big woo hoo there, pardner. I'm getting
pizza for the Theory 2 class, and talking about some Broadway tunes.
Last Monday, Frank Oteri had a nice write-up of the Winged Contraption CD on New
Music Box -- see "FJO" link, and sometimes the streaming audio works, and mostly it
doesn't. I was also asked some questions by the Composition Today website, and I
gave the best answers I could. And then I stopped.
So finally. Today is a nice day, and I have no teaching to do. I have done my prep for
Wednesday's teaching, so outside I go. This time, no pictures, please. Today's
pictures start with outdoor kitties: Sunny under an Adironkack chair, and Cammy achillin' under the gazebo. Then the two ritual beer pictures. Finally, Beff in the
gazebo, and the crocuses about to go on by. Bye.

APRIL 13 Breafkast today was orange juice and coffee. Lunch was hot and sour soup.
Dinner last night was Trader Joe's pizza, some vegan Thai dumplings purchased at the
health food store in West Concord, and some sliced campari tomatoes with Good

Seasonings dressing. Good Seasons has not paid a promotional fee to be mentioned
on this page, and neither has Trader Joe's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST
UPDATE 29.1 and 66.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The "Come
to Jesus" track from Adam Guettel's Myths and Hymns. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST
TEN DAYS Weber grill $419 including tax, Hohner and Schoenhut melodicas via
amazon, $88. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first or second time in
England, I was with Martler at a pub in Romsey, and after a few, I launched my overthe-hill tenor voice singing some of the pop songs that were current at the time. After
a few minutes of such singing, the bartender said, simply, "We'll 'ave a little less o'
that." NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
During this vacation week they sleep on the bed in the mornings, which has hardly
ever been the case. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances.
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sharinole, a generic Danish word for detritus that
collects in a hole or cavity. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE I found my Yak Bak pen behind the CDs in the guest room after presuming it lost
for 2 years, and it still works. Barely. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Every third beer is free. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,089.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.97 in Maynard. THINGS YOU DON'T THINK
OF LOOKING AT FROM SPACE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers,
'Round Midnight.
Putting our heads into the spoon was a nasty tradeoff. I couldn't find where the beads
had covered his birdhouse, so three of us made ketchup well into the night, after
which seven things ceased to exist. Blimey! I couldn't get that socket wrench out of
my head, so a monkey showed up, sang some George M. Cohan, and made a
trampoline, right on the spot. The other pigeons burped.
I am on vacation. Which is not to say the same thing as I vacate. The latter might be
associated with a colonoscopy, and boy, already I am making this update unreadable.
Yes, I am in the midst of what is for all effects a full week plus two day vacation, and I
have been accomplishing stuff. All in good time, my dear (for those of you who
wonder why I type that a lot, it's a line from the Millay poem in the first of my Sex
Songs).
Teaching has been teaching, and even though that seems commutative, it is not. I
went to the faculty meeting to get my teaching award, which is a check and a handcalligraphed certificate in a classy frame. The certificate hangs in my office. The
check does not. A few times after said meeting, I burped in class, and then remarked,
"I have tenure AND a teaching award. I get to burp whenever I want." If someone had
had one of those rim-shot programs up, such a sound would have been entirely
appropriate. So my teaching from last Wednesday -- the Schumann fantasy pieces in
Theory 2, which came after I served three large pizzas (which cost about the same as
one of my new melodicas -- more to come on that). The web of relationships interand intra-piece is complicated, and getting through it I knew was a) tedious and b)
the only thing between the students and the beginning of their vacations. As it turned
out, my vacation was in play, too. Nonetheless, there was eventually the Eureka! look
on two students' faces, and that made the class worthwhile. So at 3:30 on
Wednesday, home I came, and collapsed. Figuratively, that is.
This is weekend-strangeness time for Beff because of her own extracurricular
activities, which means her Maynardwards time is very bendy in relation to what is
usual. Because she'd done a big complicated trip, taking her away from her job for a
full teaching week (the only possible response to that situation is "woo hoo!"), this
past weekend was one where she had to stay in Maine for her job, makeup lessons,

etc. Meanwhile, this coming weekend begins Tuesday night (relative to when I type
this, "tomorrow" night) because the U of Maine band or something is playing in
Symphony Hall (that's in Boston -- at least the Boston one is) and as Chair she has to
be there. As for moi (that's a French word -- we cultured people sometimes sprinkle
everyday conversation with parole esterne -- that's Italian -- and it means "me"), I'll
be a-drivin' her in and a-parkin' her, since the area is my old stomping ground.
Though being bored out of my mind for about three hours prior to the show is
definitely on the docket.
And then Beff will have Thursday through half of Sunday in town. And just in time,
since this is a sunny week, set to get nice and mild by Friday.
So Beff's previous weekend here was a bit cold and the like, but we were able to do
our usual walks, etc. We had been shopping around for a new grill for the back porch
for a while -- since the last time I used it there were big flames that charred the
chicken I was grilling before it was actually cooked -- and Beff looked up Weber grills
on many various web pages. We had even looked at one in person at the local
Aubuchon hardware store, so we knew it was the right size, not too large, for the
porch. Beff found it online for $70 less than it was selling at Aubuchon, and even
though that meant assembling it ourselves (or actually, myself), it was a good
savings. So Beff filled out the form to order online, and then it was shown: SHIPPING:
$186. Hmm. Not much of a bargain. So this last weekend, we went back to Aubuchon
and said we'd like said grill, how much was assembly and delivery. The answer: it's
already assembled, and we'll deliver it for free, right now! Durned if the grill wasn't
already in our driveway when we got back home.
So I took the propane out of the old grill, along with the grease catchers (known to
mere mortals as empty soup cans -- or, formerly empty soup cans) and swiveled it
sideways, thus revealing a path of grease that took us both 15 minutes to clean off
the porch floor -- at which point we were glad we had replaced the old wood floor
with fiber cement. I wheeled the old greasamundo grill to the back of the garage,
wheeled the new one up, set it up, and -- I had forgotten that some grills have
automatic lighters, as this one does, so no going into the kitchen for a lighter (the old
starter on the old grill hasn't worked for about 4 years), and it worked! PLUS, there's
a thermometer on the grill hood (bonnet if you're of the limey persuasion), and while
I have no idea what a good temperature is for grilling, well, there it is. Plus, most of
the inside pieces come out for cleaning (this was a real issue with the old one, which
is part of the reason why we never did (laziness being another one) -- by the way,
made by Sunbeam), the propane tank goes into the FRONT (which makes turning on
and off easy). Immediately I went to Ace hardware and the Dollar store for grill
paraphernalia (a scraper, a scrubber, and two sizes of spatula -- I believe in
mathematical completion), hung them on the side (there are six places to hang stuff).
And almost immediately therafter, Beff had to drive to Maine, where she's been
since. All I've cooked on the grill so far are hot dogs and hot dog buns, but they were
the best ones ever to come off of that grill. So far.
On the day BEFORE the grill-getting, we took the afternoon to drive in the wet to
Brandeis to catch the Saturday matinee of Hecuba. I had written about 20 or 25
minutes of cues for the Lydian Quartet and piano, played by Yu-Hui, to be used in this
production, and durned if J, the sound designer, didn't find a use for almost all of
them. Indeed, before the show, there was a loop of seagull sounds (it happens in a
coastal town, dontcha know), occasionally embroidered with some upward arpeggio
cues that I wrote. And so forth, and so on. It is a fabulously depressing play, with lots
of over-the-top grief, well acted and choreographed, and the singing cues for the one
chorus member were welcome where they came. Indeed, the "Disaster Chorus" got

repeated later as part of a big montage, and it was cool. Strangely enough, the
curtain calls came to the sound of the overture -- a noisy bit -- and when it was all
done, we drove back home. Because it is what we do.
Meantime. In the week of "harp and seldom used instruments" in Orchestration class,
one student -- we will call him "Adam" because that is his name -- asked about the
melodica. I'm sure no one else in class had any idea what that was (a mouth-powered
little folk keyboard that sounds like an accordion with a really bad cold), and I
immediately replied that Lee Hyla used one in his Polish folk songs, and that it was a
feasible instrument to use to evoke (or evince) folk quality if you didn't mind its out of
tuneness. But this got me a-searchin' on amazon, and they had a bunch of rather
inexpensive melodicas for sale. I settled on a 32-key Hohner (for the cost of three
large pizzas) and a 37-key Schoenhut (for the cost of three large pizzas and a steak
and cheese sub), and they got here rather quickly. They were fun, silly, and
borderline dumb, and for that reason I decided I had to incorporate them (or at least
one of them) into the piece I have to write now. Really.
Speaking of which. I started said piece late on Friday of my vacation. It's a Pierrotplus-percussion piece for Boston Musica Viva, and I have come to dislike that
ensemble a lot. Indeed, last time I wrote for Musica Viva, in 1996, it was Pierrot plus
percussion. And the Collage piece with Judy was for Pierrot, and ... well, I am tired of
this group. So putting in a melodica is at least a bit of a challenge, and even if the
music sucks, people afterwards will say to me, "So. You used a melodica." And I'll say
yes, and I used saffron on the last pizza I made. Then they will, likely, walk away
without saying anything. So I started it, and have three days work in the books, and
it's ... okay. It takes off where "Stolen Moments" left off, and I am currently agonizing
over the next thing to happen. But that's par for the course. Water under the bridge.
Two shakes of the stick. A Post-It without borders.
But back to the yard. Thursday and Friday here were warm days. So when I got back
from school, I started THE YARD PROJECT OF MY VACATION. I now seem to do one of
these every Passover vacation we have -- last year the project was filling holes,
planting grass seed and getting rid of the apple tree, and the year before it was
taking down the backyard fence. This year, with the new foresty bit of yard that was
behind what was left of the fence being exposed by the falling branches from the ice
storm taking out three fence sections (go ahead and parse THAT, you stupid sentence
diagrammers!), Beff had the idea that some of the piled-up foresty floor could
become yard, and in an organic shape that mirrored where there was actually some
sun during the morning. So, I started with the raking, and then shoveling of detritusy
stuff into a wheelbarrow, where I carted it into the newly vacated way-back detritus
space. Such stuff is fairly hard work for someone more than halfway to a century in
age (that would be me), so it was two fairly grueling days of work. I also got fertilizer
and topsoil at the hardware store, spread some of it into this cleared area, and
planted grass seed. Now, we wait. Why? Because grass is not planted fully grown.
Unless you get sod. Which I don't.
So with the rest of the week ahead of us, there is included a trip to the MacDowell
Colony tomorrow for lunch with Yotam. Why? Who? I've known Yotam about six years
but have never met him. So, lunch is a good idea, and a very pleasing drive during
vacation. And of course, there is music to write, and bike rides to take. This we shall
do. Incidentally, I did take a nice short bike ride on Friday, the first of the season, and
felt disappointingly out of shape. This will get better, one would hope.
Easter was yesterday, and I went back onto Facebook, after having "given Facebook
up for Lent". My first status update was "David Rakowski gave up Facebook for Lent",

which got five "Likes." Weird. And this morning I made our plane reservations for the
Auvillar thing in France this June. $1888 for both of us, but doesn't count as an
expense, since we're being reimbursed. Or at least I hope we are.
Then when this vacation ends, there are eight school days left. Many office hours for
final projects, many recitals to attend, and I've even been asked to play my toy piano
at a "happening" for the Festival of the Arts. Hmm, this level of planning seems like
being asked to be spontaneous, on my count, three, two, one, right ... NOW!
This week's snaps include the beginning of new piece (which is being conceived as a
micro-concerto for Geoffy, the pianist) and the organic shape of the new bit of future
yard, followed by two snaps of the second round of crocuses (the "large"), the new
grill, and the new melodicas, and me mugging with one using the "tube". Bye.

APRIL 28 (with April 30 revisions) Breafkast today was orange juice and coffee. Lunch
was a tomato, cheese and pepperoncini sandwich on a whole wheat bulkie. Dinner
last night was a half rack of ribs, Buffalo sliders, and onion strings. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 29.7 and 88.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS
I TYPE THIS Dixie. Dunno why. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS Canon SX2000
IS camera with extra battery, card reader, carrying case, 8 gig data card, data card
sleeve, $389.70 including shipping. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The first
composition judging panel I ever served on, prolly about 22-23 years ago, was a very
inconsequential one for a Boston performance on an ISCM series. Pieces were
submitted anonymously, which usually meant that correction tape was put over the
composers' names. Some of the other judging types were pretty pompous (as in, "if
you can't grab me in the first 15 seconds, I'm not interested"), but more disturbingly,
many of us (moi-meme (that's French) included) held the cover pages up to bright
lights to see if we could read the names of the composers. So much for anonymity.
And the statute of limitations on that foul deed has expired, anyway, so you can't
touch this. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO
REPORT: Now that it's hot, they simply lie prostrate on the floor, on the furniture, on
the lawn whenever and wherever they feel like it. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK:
This page, Compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: goulardo, an
especially tasty concoction of macaroni, beef, tomato sauce, and dandelion wine
made once in Bavaria and then lost to history. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE Beff and I now own 5 functional digital cameras and 3
card readers. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Onion
rings have half the grease and twice the taste. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY:
13,117. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.99 in Maynard and $2.03 at the
Shell station in Waltham. WORDS AND PHRASES THAT DON'T RHYME WITH EACH
OTHER my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
Intransigence. The word stared at me like puke being given to the Queen for the first
time. After the fact, the fact was after, and before that we put extra syllables onto
every glass harmonica we could find. Did the sun have a sentient presence when we
asked it about our socks? Frankly, I think that we couldn't have put more jell-o into
the fish's mouth than we had legs for.
Beff has discovered online that there is now a variant to your porn name. Mine, by
the way (your first pet and the street up on which you grew) is Mercury Messenger.
On the other hand, your NPR name is your first name with your middle initial inserted
into it somewhere, followed by the smallest foreign town you have visited. So in my
case, I am Davcid Castelluccio. Ask for me by name.

Last time I wrote here I was on vacation. Now I am very nearly on vacation again, this
time school being out for the summer, school being out forever and all that. Since
that last update, a little bit of microconcerto was written, Beff was around an
inordinate amount of weekend time, and then she wasn't, and I have returned to that
little ol' vocation of mine I like to call "teaching". Because that is its name. Today is a
Tuesday, which means I have no classes to teach, and tomorrow is a Wednesday,
which is my busy day -- AND the last day of classes. Though my long string of
preparing for my classes is over. For you see, Orchestration carries with it three
pizzas (the cost of a small melodica, shall we say) and Theory 2 comes with
performances of final composition projects which I will record and make available to
the Theory 2 students. But let me backtrack towards the rear of the time of this
update kind of thing. Please.
So I managed around a minute 20 seconds of microconcerto music before I got to a
texture change (or for you Europeans, a change of texture), and spent a whole day
microadjusting rests, numbers of notes in gestures, timing of sustained notes, and so
forth. Hmm, writing a substantial piece for an ensemble I loathe ain't at all like
writing a tood, and what it is, too. And then Beff got back Toozdy night of that week
because of a major fundraising event with which she was associated for the U of
Maine. Indeed (and, dude!), the U Maine concert band and a band from a high school
in Plaistow, New Hampshuh were to play a concert in SYMPHONY HALL. Yes, indeedy,
they paid a pretty penny for that, in order to draw potential donors, otherwise known
locally (and in the rest of the world) as "alumni". Beff had the concert programs and
tickets, as well as a cash box ('cause you were like, supposed to pay ten bucks to get
in), and they were heavy. Indeed, we resurrected, for the first time since I returned
from Rome in 1996 the LUGGAGE CADDY THING. Which took a bit o' scrubbing and
de-de-de-dusting to resurrect. And since the driving to Symphony Hall with all that
stuff is both cumbersome and complicated (not to mention returning in the dark after
the gig), I was enlisted as the driver.
This meant getting Beff to the parking garage near NEC before 4 pm, getting her and
the STUFF to Symphony Hall, and then toodling for 2-1/2 hours before I was next
expected. So in that time I walked back and forth through the shops in the Prudential
Center, walked along Newbury Street, and had dinner at the Pour House on Boylston
Street. The last time I had been to the Pour House was in the spring of 1988 with Julie
Koshgarian, and I remember it being a dive with very cheap beer. And so it was. I got
Buffalo wings (big plate for $5.75), a salad, and an IPA beer (anonymously -- they
didn't say who made it) as big as my head. All of it for 20 bucks including a very
substantial tip. Wow. (I e-mailed Julie that in another 21 years we should go again.
She said she might be busy that day) And so I walked a less-than-straight line back to
Symphony Hall after dinner, and hung out a lot while U Maine alums filed in, made a
brief appearance to see U Maine mucky-mucks in the cash bar reception room, and
listened to the concert. And boy -- all those band cliches that sickened and nauseated
me way back in 2000 when I was getting ready to write Ten of a Kind -- they were all
there in the high school band program. The U Maine band -- more sophisticated,
harder, better sounding, and a slightly decreased density of cliche. So after was done
the concert, off back we went to the garage of parking, and drove I to the usual
Copley Square entrance to the Turnpike and .... it was CLOSED for construction! Those
intercoursers! So this is why it was good I was there -- I knew how to get to another
entrance to the Pike. Which involved getting to Newbury Street, crossing Mass Ave,
etc. When we got home, alchohol was consumed, and by us, in the passive voice.
Meantime, I had terminated our home delivery of the Boston Globe and started a
Weekender subscription to the New York Times. With the Globe shrinking and

shrinking and the arts coverage getting marginalized into the section with the
comics, the impending price increase was a tipping point. So that weekend the Times
home delivery started, and it was remarkable. In fact, Sunday morning, Beff brought
in the paper and remarked, "Hey look. No crap." Which of course meant that there
was less clipping of supermarket coupons and more actual reading about stuff. It's
too bad that the New York Times still uses the New York Times music critics, though.
Because their stuff is still pretty much unreadable.
And speaking of terminating -- I'm off Facebook for good. I was on for a week and a
half after Lent was over, and I spent a bit too much time on it, plus the screens were
full of lists of 5 things and lists of 20 or 30 things from all kinds of people that were
just over the top dull. So gone, and hopefully, as they say in the bassoon world,
faggotten.
Some time during this vacation time was spent doing yardy stuff, and that included
expanding the reclaimed under-pines area and planting more grass seed. And has
been the case for several weekends, the weekend was pretty durn nice. One of our
old garden hoses was leaking, so we tossed it and I went to K-Mart for a "medium
duty" garden hose. It leaked terribly. I took it back. Next, Ace Hardware in Acton for a
"medium duty" hose for $20 more. It, too, leaked. I took it back. Then to Stow Ace
hardware, where I got a "heavy duty" hose for yet $15 more, which ALSO leaked. So, I
figured the 50-ft hoses I was chaining together might work better as just one 100-foot
hose (as the spray nozzle attachment is permanently stuck on the remaining nonleaky hose), so I took THAT back and got a 100-foot hose, nozzle, and sprinkler
attachment. Success. Watering of the new yard area succeeded. And then, I spent
the latter part of that Sunday doing what I like to call "hammocking". I don't
remember whether or not it involves using a hammock.
Then began again the teaching, and fun was had by me. There was Broadway tune
day, in which I went through a bunch of stuff designed for musical theater, including
the Susan Boyle tune from Les Mis -- as they say in pretentious educational circles
(also in the trapezoids, which are rarer), I turned the huge internet phenomenon into
a teaching moment. And there wasn't even enough time to get to the Adam Guettel
tunes I like so much ... in orchestration was ways of grouping the orchestra
hierarchically followed by score and parts layout. And for Theory 2, which is doing
final projects and the like, I started a massive office hours trope: 13 of them in toto.
Theory did not meet on Wednesday because it was Brandeis Thursday, and what it is,
too. So, there were 6 of those office hours that day. And at the end of the day
Wednesday was a happening in Shapiro Campus Center to kick of the Festival of the
Arts. I brought a toy piano and melodica and was slated to play for six minutes -some of that included me playing a "bass line" on the melodica while Neal Hampton
comped some C blues on the toy piano.
And during that week I plowed through some more notes of my microconcerto.
Meanwhile, toward the end of the week, the temps finally exploded. It had not gotten
above 68 and suddenly it exploded into the upper 80s, setting two high temp records
for the weekend, and today is hotter still. It is 87.6 degrees at 1 pm as I type this, and
going to the low to mid 90s. After which it will return to "normal" in the mid 60s,
which will still be pretty durn nice. And since Beff was stuck in Maine for the hot
weekend, there were bike rides for me to take alone (the Boon Lake ride, the Maynard
circle, the South Acton train station ride), hammock time with Sunny, and gazebo
time. Oh yes, and I had more ... office hours ... on Sunday, a day it got up to 88.
I had, however, noticed, while the cats were doing kitty TV, that there were scrapes

and nicks on the bulkhead (the direct entry to the basement from the yard) with
some rust associated with them. The nicks could have been caused by workers
stepping on the bulkhead while doing the new siding last summer, or ditto for the
painters. So I stopped briefly at MDAW for advice on re-rustproofing it (while sighing
that I could have chosen the wooden bulkhead door option), and I got advice to
"scuff" it with 100 or 80 sandpaper before applying Rustoleum. So off I went for a can
of green rustoleum, a paintbrush, and two "sandpaper sponges" of 100 coarseness.
After sanding down the rust spots, I opened the rustoleum and discovered that a 4"
wide paintbrush for a can whose opening is about 3-1/2 inches is improperly sized.
Square peg in a trapezoidal hole and all that. So, sigh, off I went for a 2-1/2 inch
paintbrush, and on this Friday, I painted as smoothly as you can with an oil-based
mix. There was so much left over that I applied another coat on Saturday, and that
meant getting another paintbrush. And now the bulkhead is very shiny dark green,
and a solid color. And one of my cuticles continues to resist becoming not green.
Then again began teaching, which was yesterday outdoors for Theory 2 as we
discussed everyone's final project and I had a teeny boombox and battery-powered
keyboard at my disposal (and beck, and call). I had some free consulting time during
the day, and in the morning was a nice old PhD oral exam (his teeth were fine). And
when I got back I immediately went to Ace for more fertilizer and topsoil so I could
patch up the part of our new yard where grass seemed NOT to have taken root. And
that is what I did.
Meanwhile. Geoffy is out and about for the Musica Viva at 40 thing, and last Friday we
turned his presence here into my usual Friday lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen recast as
a duo. Then he went back to do auditions at his 'hood, Hunter College. Back he got
Sunday night, and last night we did dinner at the Blue Coyote Grill in Maynard, hence
the dinner up above there. And he practices at Brandeis during the day. At night, who
knows? Oh, right. Blue Coyote Grill.
Last Thursday Gusty Thomas came for a colloquium, which was pretty much the most
well-attended colloquium since I've been here, and it was very, very good -- playing
music a lot more than talking about it, and then answering the questions that
normally arose. Then we did dinner at the Treetop restaurant and I had the garlic
salmon and tom yum soup. Because, you see, it is what I do. At the reception
afterwards, I drooled over Eric Chasalow's digital camera of many bells and whistles
(including 12x optical zoom, automatic settings, etc.), asked him the model number,
and durned if I didn't up and get one myself. Indeed, said camera arrived via UPS this
morning, and I have learned some of its functions already -- hence the pix that will be
showing up below.
Meanwhile -- tomorrow is last day of classes, and it says above what will happen.
Monday, all the final stuff is due, as well as my grades for anyone graduating. Then
what's left is a faculty senate meeting, department luncheon, faculty appreciation
event at which I must say a few words (I am practicing saying "glurp mov naxxy" with
a Slovenian accent), commencement, jury duty, performance of Stolen Moments in
New York, trip to France, and ... but I am revealing too much. Or going too far into the
future, or something.
So with it being HOT here I have debated whether or not to install the air conditioners
-- given that the next time they'd be turned on after today is likely mid to late May -and it's not important what I decide. I will probably ... not.
So many concerts to attend this week -- Nina's song concert, Alexander and Gil's
recital (with the premiere of High Def), Brandeis new music, and other things that use

vowels in their names. Then, well, you have that list up there. TODAY -- I have already
taken two bike rides. TOMORROW -- is Wednesday.
All of this week's pictures were taken with the new Canon camera except the first -we have Sunny looking out Kitty TV and giving a view of daffodils and distant
forsythia -- then the 2-year old asparagus from Mindy, already too late to pick it -- the
current state of the reclaimed area (the outer strip and some of the other area have
been reseeded with more grass) -- an auto-macro closeup of a grape hyacinth, and
two views of Sunny using the mode that isolates one color and makes everything else
black and white. Cool, huh?

MAY 12 Lunch today was a blackened chicken Caesar wrap and some calamari
appetizer. Breakfast was the Red Sox special on a bulkie from Prime Deli, down the
hill from Slosberg. Dinner last night was jambalaya from Whole Foods and salad.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 42.6 and 92.9. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The scales that Beff is playing in the other room.
LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS None that come to mind. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I was the lead character in our senior play, The
Imaginary Invalid, a Moliere play in a high school adaptation. My character had no
name, but I pretended it was Argan Rashforth, and I used that alias in a few
competitions. I was unprofessional in two ways -- by saying "Oh Snowflake!" instead
of "Oh horrors" at one point when Margaret and her mother were in the audience -and emerging after "hiding" under a sheet, seeing the shadow of my fluffy hair (it
could be fluffy in 1976) and I cracked up. Terry, who played the maid, had to ad lib to
get me to be serious again. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny looks cute chasing bugs outside, since it seems to happen
with great spontaneity, and you can't see the bug. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS
WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pippilage, a process of granting
promotions within the servant class. Fell out of use in the 16th century, back into use
in the 18th, back out in the early 20th century. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have no idea how many Flash drives I own. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Counting backwards is really
funny. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,200. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS
WEEK: $1.83 and $2.09 in Maynard. CUT THE PILLOW LABEL OFF IS THIS IS ALL IT
SAYS my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
We decided to use the Dutch spelling, "trippel", because it looks better in brown. On
the other hand, the nefariousness of tree robbers makes me think about the way I
used to eat pudding. So everything was made available to us, and that seemed to
cause dogs to find fault with each other. But seriously, my fingers didn't waffle the
way they used to when pink cash registers were all the rage. So I ate some tuna.
Since our last update, dear reader, were two mini-updates -- for those of you who
didn't catch the mini-updates, it was a tedious paragraph about me painting the
bulkhead (external entry into the basement) with green rustoleum, and me
announcing that I'm off Facebook for good. Or for evil, I'm not sure. Other things that
have happened include the end of school, grading, entry of grades and the like, and
the like, meetings, more meetings, and more meetings. As of today all that is left for
me is to sit on the dais (which I now have heard pronounced day-iss, so I can say it
out loud -- not like Brand day iss) at commencement, and I'm through. Followed by,
on the very next day, reporting for jury doody. But way ahead of myself have I gotten.
The heat wave finished up with a high of 93 on the day of the last update, which was

the second warmest April temperature on record here. the warmest being 94, which
is higher. Since then, only a few dashes into the mid-70s threaded between very nice
sunny dry days in the 60s, and one dreary day it was rainy and 50.
So there was plenty more yard work since last time, and I'm finally finished planting
grass seed in the new organic reclaimed area of the lawn (see tedious narrative-inpix, below), and there was the first mowing, finally, of some of the faster-to-grow stuff
way out in back. After a pause of a little more than a week, it was time for the first
full lawn mow of the year, and I was reminded (by doing it) that it takes an hour 45
minutes and a little more than a tank of gas in the lawnmower. This was on a
strangely humid and warm day, so it felt good indeed, ending in t-shirt and shorts
only.
Also, the bike rides are getting somewhat longer and more ambitious now, when they
are taken at all. The Boon Lake ride is most popular right now, and I now know that
the old mangy dog in the pink house on the far side of the lake is named "Goosy".
Obviously because the old lady who owns it asked me, in the least pleasant voice
ever, "Did you come to see Goosy?" No answer gave I except to award said Goosy a
dog bone. Because, you see, it is what I do.
We also went to K-Mart to get tiebacks for the curtains in the bedroom -- after Beff
had got new curtains for the bedroom -- and noticed the usual spring confluence of
plants for sale out front. We got some catnip and some mint and I planted them by
the back porch. Sunny discovered the catnip and nuzzled away and got real spacy, so
we decided to get yet more catnip and mint and plant it all around -- including by the
bulkhead, by the garage, and in the new organic part of the lawn. The cats do find it
and nuzzle on occasion, but so far it bounces back -- leaner yet meaner -- after the
experience. We think it's cool.
And of course I have had plenty of hammock and gazebo time, as has Beff, who has
also had plenty of Adirondack chair time. For you see, her commencement happened
already, and she is back, sort of, for the vacation. Though, being Chair and all, she
has stuff to get back to Maine for. Not even included in that is Maine All-State at the
end of next week. So there.
Before Beff went back Mainewards, we stopped, in her car, at the local Cumberland
Farms, who sell Gulf gasoline, it seems, to fill up her tank. There were a couple of
guys there letting everyone know about a promotion involving our Shaw's cards. Now
everyone has got Shaws and Stop and Shop and Hannaford cards, since the daily
specials only take effect if you use the card at checkout. We had to get new Shaws
cards because suddenly the old ones would expire in five days and ... for the moment
it also takes longer to check out because everyone in front of you is being told to get
a new Shaws card, etc., and they have to be filled out, but anyway ... These guys told
us we'd save money on gasoline if we'd spent as little as 50 bucks at Shaws in the
past week -- 10 cents off per gallon for 50 bucks, 20 cents for 100 bucks, etc. Beff
had the large wallet version in her wallet, so we did what they said -- swipe credit
card, swipe Shaws card, and BEE-OO-BOOP (the sound I imagine the pump made),
the 2.03 per gallon magically bee-oo-booped to 1.83. So for a few minutes there, the
coolness factor made us want to do yet more shopping at Shaws, nay all of it! Until,
when doing the math, you realize I get 8 gallons when I fill up normally, and do I
really want to pad my spending to a hunnert bux a week just to save a buck eighty at
the pump? Answer: only to see the bee-oo-boop thing. Later in the week Beff found
my wallet-size card, and when I filled up a second time, I got ... ZERO discount. No
bee-oo-boop whatsoever. Bee-oo-boop-free zone.

But back to where we left off. My string of concerts-must-be-attended happened,

starting with Nina's song recital, which was a very nice affair. Her band was a bit loud
and inflexible, but that will improve with time. Then there was Gil Harel and
Alexander Lane (both of them appear on the Home page here as 5-letter people, in
slightly different spellings), who gave a 2-pronged recital that included (and started
with) my own "High Def" which I wrote for them on the text "Hey Davy". I Flip videoed it and stuck the sucker on YouTube, and so far 3 people give it five stars. See the
"High Def" green link below and to the left. The second half of the concert was an
arrangement of the Eight Songs for a Mad King for piano -- where a score is torn up
rather than a violin smashed -- that came of very cool and entertaining, and as Gilad
and Alexa marched off, Gil howling "Howling!" from offstage for what seemed like
forever, it was very funny. And the applause was organic. Then was the graduate
composers concert, an affair with nine pieces and some of them for as many as 14
instruments. I excused Beff from that one -- it promised to be long -- but it ended up
being a thoroughly enjoyable affair, no clunkers or even semi-clunkers, and some
pretty spiffy orchestration to boot. So that's TWO really fantastic grad concerts I got
to see this year, which exceeds the average by ... by ... by I won't say by how much,
since some of the old guard (le vieux garde) may be reading this. I assure you, it is a
real number.
Then of course Beff was gone for almost a whole week, getting back late Saturday
instead of Thursday night -- she made it back from her commencement in record
time, remembering correctly to bring our shared stripy Princeton robe so that I can sit
day-iss-wards. Oh yeah, and what did I do that week? Poring over final orchestration
portfolii and reading final papers for theory took about three working days. And of
course there were meetings to attend, including a faculty meeting and a faculty
senate meeting. I always like the last faculty senate meeting of the year, because no
one is looking to form subcommittees, and I don't have to practice my invisibility
skills (undergraduates are better at it than I am, anyway).
Geoffy was still out and about for the beginning of that period, and we did another
Cast Iron Kitchen lunch, which was good, and Geoffy had some leftover chicken which
he forgot to brink back with him. Geoffy, Beffy thanks you for the chicken.
Meanwhile, Yu-Hui helped me discover other features on my new Canon camera -which, by the way, I dropped onto some tile and it doesn't seem to have sustained
any noticeable damage -- one of them an extension of the feature you saw in the last
update, where a color could be highlighted and the rest of the picture be made black
and white. The extension is that a color can be isolated and another color substituted
for it -- my first manifestation of that being the Matisse "The Red Studio" poster in YuHui's office turned into The Green Studio. Or, the color of the sky here turning to red
(the red eyedropped from the taillight on my car) or the forsythias coming out red
instead of yellow. So that is what I did.
Meanwhile, I got what seems to be a persistent but weak back-of-throat thing that
cause coughing, some of it deep, but not all that often. I don't love it when that
happens.
Otherwise, people have been e-mailing me and asking me to do stuff, and if I do any
of it, I'll let you know. Just a teeny bit of work on this Musica Viva piece got done since
the last update, but a major breakthrough happened under the influence of AlkaSeltzer Plus Nighttime just this very morning. A complicated dream last night was
accompanied by a celesta-like ostinato on F and E-flat, and the idea is to use it as an
unchanging -- except in color -- ostinato in the slow movement. So there. Meaning!

Tomorrow we drive to Northampton to do a bit of shopping in the oh-so-tony places

downtown followed by lunch at the Brewery with David Sanford. It could be fun -- I
like their spicy wings, so there. Thursday or Friday I have to drive in to get my
commencement regalia -- actually, I just need the mortarboard, since I already have
a robe, and you can't get a mortarboard without getting a robe, so there you have it.
And by the way, I've heard that Big Mike is making an appearance at the minicommencement -- which I'm not going to -- to hood his dissertation advisee who
finished this year.
Meanwhile. I cut our asparagus to see when and if the next generation would grow
back. All seven plants have now yielded something, though at vastly different times.
And the rhubarb is huge (which is what they all say)!
After all of that it's jury duty, as you know, BMOP concert on the 22nd, Stolen
Moments in New York, go to France (we bought earplugs specially for the occasion),
return from France, etc. And now I know there's a Yehudi birthday concert at Brandeis
given by the Lyds -- on MY birthday. Talk about cutting in!
Nice and short this one. No Mr. Wordy I. So there's nine pictures instead of six, as
follows -- colorshifted pix from the backyard; colorshifted forsythias; a super-closeup
of a wilted daffodil that came out better than I thought; then a five-picture narrative
of the new organic and sculpted part of the yard going from mid-March to this
afternoon. Bye.

MAY 26 Breakfast this morning was cherries, limeade, and coffee. Dinner last night
was teriyaki chicken kebabs from Whole Foods, salad, and 1999 Brunello. Lunch was
red curry soup with saltines. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 38.3 and
88.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A Brahms Liebeslieder waltz,
in A minor. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS None come to mind, but there's a
birthday present for Davy in the offing. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After
sophomore and junior years of college, I worked as a security guard for MSI
(Management Safeguards, Inc.) at Jordan Marsh on the graveyard shift. That involved
three tours through the whole store -- the new one and the old part -- during the shift.
I would occasionally make free phone calls on the WATS line in the executive offices,
or do dumbass things like take light bulbs and toss them down an eight-flight
staircase just because I could. Oddly, during our non-tour time we could do as we
pleased as long as we stayed at the "time desk", so I wrote music there. It all sucked,
but only because everything I wrote at the time sucked. I made $2.30 an hour and
then $2.45, and was at times sufficiently poor that I would eat relish packets for
dinner. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
Sunny nuzzles the catnip plants outside, gets high, and has so far destroyed two of
the six that are available to him. Cammy doesn't seem to notice. UPDATED ON THIS
SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sprink,
having nothing to do with spritzes of rain, belt buckles, or foreign pronunciations of la
primavera; it's related to a garter, made of leather, and keeps underwear from
bunching up. fell into disuse in the late 19th century. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9 (Fromm commission
season). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE The first piece I was
able to play on the piano from memory was the "Our Director" march, in F major. I
can still play it, and with the ridiculous fingerings I made up way back then. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Words that begin with "kn"
now begin with "kgn". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,242. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.29 in Maynard. SECOND VERSE SAME AS THE FIRST: my
head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Today we do without the dada paragraph. I have been sick as a dog (an expression I
don't understand, or which seems insufficiently nuanceable to be useful), with
recovery coming only very slowly. Beff got a slightly liter version of what I had, so we
are out of phase, meaning I must be a bit more recovered. My symptoms included a
return to the classic vertigo, in varying manifestations -- at times if I laid straight
back, I would get so dizzy as to be very nauseous, have to sit up straight, and take
several minutes to recover. A few times lying on my right side would cause dizziness
after a while, and if I were dreaming, the dizziness would be part of the dream. Weird.
Another manifestation was a persistent cough with unbelievable coughing fits. And -I'm not sure if this is a symptom or a benefit -- occasionally I could see the future. For
those of you wondering -- Rush Limbaugh stays fat.
I had to accomplish and do much in the intervening two weeks, however, despite my
time of infirm, so I scheduled it in between sickly manifestations. All my grades got
sent in, and I did go to the faculty/staff appreciation thing where teaching award
recipients were feted. When Dan feted me, the entire semester of hijinks was
conflated into "the first day of class", but that's okay. In response, I used my Perrier
bottle to demonstrate how the size of the resonating chamber affects the pitch it
resonates. Thankfully, I did not also demonstrate overblowing. Thankfully for them,
that is.
And so Beff hadda be in Maine for various academic stuff part of the time, and I
hadda mow the lawn twice. The new bit of lawn sprouted up nice and green, but
some seems to be fading or even dying due to the lack of rain. Well, you can only do
so much. But lawn mowing is a nice bit of exercise when bike rides are impossible
because of infirmity, and our lawn takes an hour and three quarters to mow. Ipso
facto! I did manage a few bike rides on the warm days, but mostly short ones. Once
the cold abated sufficiently, I started doing the longer ones, including the one that
goes through Stow toward Hudson, goes beside apple orchards and comes back to
the Assabet rail trail thing. And my legs have recovered to the point that the hills
don't wind me no mo'.
Meanwhile, we did make our sojourn to Northampton, right at the beginning of the
worst part of the cold, and we did fine. We saw David Sanford and had a great time at
the Brewery, and the sum total of my purchases there was mortarboards and two
rubber balls. I got the Buffalo wings and David didn't, and neither did Beff. But the
beer was nice. So there. The cute thing about the drive back was programming our
house on the Garmin GPS and going NORTH out of there on Route 91 to Route 2. The
Garmin would have none of that, and wanted us to turn around and go south, and it
kept trying to get us to exit, turn around, and change direction. So our original arrival
time of 5:34 kept getting later as we ignored it ... and it was at 5:57 by the time we
got onto Route 2, and it STILL wanted us to turn around. Finally we went through the
traffic light on Route 2, and it got that we could do Route 2, and revised the arrival
time to 5:14. Meaning we chose the faster route in the first place, so there.
And on the 17th, I did commencement duty. Using our stripy Princeton robe and a
rented mortarboard, I went to the Brandeis graduation, hung out in a stuffy room with
important people (such as Marilyn Horne and James Conlon) for a while, marched
onto the dais with the important people, sat there for a long time while it was very
hot, and got out of there after a ceremony that was about 40 minutes longer than
last year's. I stood up and was visible on the jumbotron when my name was
announced as the recipient of a teaching award, and then I could do what I wanted to
do, as long as that involved sitting down for a very long time. And then I became
free, at least until late August. I celebrated my freedom by being free. Except I

wasn't. Because...
I had been summoned for jury duty in Woburn -- where they had moved the
Cambridge office to -- and I put it off until the day after commencement. Last jury
duty I did was in 2005 in Framingham, and got picked from a pool of about 40 for a
counterfeiting trial. Here, there were about 150 jurors just a-hangin' out, a bailiff
telling funny stories ("those of you who brought letters from your place of
employment testifying to how essential you are to the business, put them away. Bring
them back out when you are up for promotion" -- a joke he must tell every day).
There were two trials needing jurors, and I had been assigned number 132. Numbers
1-80 got summoned for one jury, and a sigh of relief was breathed by me. Then 81150, which would include me, got summoned for another one. So while we were
asked about various reasons for being excused, a guy with a voice that could melt
bricks asked questions, and a judge spoke in a little voice. Then the jurors were
summoned sequentially starting with #81, the jury box was filled, summary
exclusions were made by lawyers, and little by little the numbers encroached toward
mine. The jury was finally seated at number 118, and I felt probably like one of those
kids during the Vietnam war that got a high draft number. I was safe, and by 14 slots.
So, no duty for me this year, and I got to call Beff from the road and say, HERE I
COME! It looked like a pretty dull trial anyway, and would have taken until Friday.
Speaking of which, on that Friday was the BMOP concert, and it was a mixed bag. No
names being named here, but there was plenty of music by composers who don't
much write for orchestra, some music that Beff described as "Whoosh! Spacy.
Whoosh! Spacy" or something of that ilk. One piece used a bouncing basketball in
rhythm, which was cool. And Lisa Bielawa's piece was expertly written, as you would
expect from a composer in residence with an orchestra -- plus both movements
started with the same music. If I were European, I'd stand up and yell "I did it first."
Instead, I will say, and for no apparent reason, "MWA ha ha."
And since classes were done, I ran out of excuses not to write music. It was kind of
hard to continue to Pierrot Plus movement I'd started during April vacation, and it was
fine with me to leave that holding. I had had a long complicated dream involving
moving from place to place outdoors through pickup volleyball games, among other
things, and for no apparent reason there was a background ostinato in that dream of
a pickup eighth to a long note a major second lower, over and over, in a Fender
Rhodes sound. Since I always use dream music when I can remember it, I discovered
that the notes were F-Eflat, and resolved to write a movement of this piece with the
unyielding ostinato. Something I have never done! So to keep the ostinato going and
to get as much variety as possible -- well, see the "Ostinato Movement" link over to
the left. It repeats almost a hundred times, which is not a record by any means, but it
shatters my own standard by about ninety. It also quotes that same Brahms
Liebeslieder waltz from the first paragraph of this update. Because I can. When I
finished the movement and finished keying it in, I went outside for fresh air, and
heard chickadees doing the same interval and same ostinato, except a fourth lower.
Turns out chickadees are a dominant species around here.
And finally I ran out of excuses not to continue the first movement. So I have been
adding to it, and durned if the actual process of writing doesn't actually give ya ideas
about how it should go. So ... I have a concept! Which will eventually be expanded
into a process, and finally into an occurrence. Because it is what I do.
And so next thing we knew, it was Memorial Day weekend, which it isn't any
more.Corinne was in town and came to visit Saturday evening and stayed overnight,
and spent the bulk of Sunday here. We picked her up at the Sout' Acton train station

and had dinner at the Cast Iron Kitchen, as is our wont, and it was good. I had the
ribs, which made up for in tastinessositudinousness what they lacked in sheer
volume. For Sunday, we went out to get stuff for barbecue (shishkebabs, dontcha
know), Corinne made beet salad, and all was good. We also took a nice trip to the
Delaney Refuge for a walk, and saw plenty of pink lady's slippers (flowers) in the
forested part, and went to the Minuteman Airport for pictures, and then to various
uglyass McMansions so Corinne could take pictures for a possible pending
publication. There was hammock time and gazebo time and cooking time, and finally
trip to the airport time, which was cool -- it rained to the east of Route 128, but not
here, so it was all splashy on the road and stuff. Solar glare made it impossible to
read the Airport Exit signs, so I felt my way out, and luckily traffic was light.
And yesterday, for actual Memorial Day, we did a pub beer and returned to discover a
baby robin fallen from a nest aimlessly hopping around, and too big to be carried
back up by parental units, who were hovering. It chirps about once every eight
seconds, and at one point I saw it had gone into the road, so I tried to scare it back
onto the grass, and its first instinct was to open its mouth so I could feed it. Aww.
Anyway, we of course didn't let the cats out, and later Beff said the bird was, by now,
toast (a strange metaphor, really). This morning, 9:30 am, the bird is still out there in
the way-back yard a-chirpin', looking a little stronger and almost flying, but ... time to
stop thinking about it.
So on Thursday we up and go to Hayes's and linger until after the concert at Merkin
on Saturday night. Gunther Schuller will be there holding forth, and apparently so will
I. And directly after, we will drive back home, perhaps landing at 2. And taking a late
afternoon flight to France soon thereafter. Oh, the fun we will have! So there we will
be, and back we will come. Beff has been practicing her parts, and many of them are
what you call "hard".
Today's pictures include the obligatory seasonal dam picture, cooked asparagus from
our own yard, Cammy and Sunny in the wild, a closeup of a pickle I sliced, Corinne
and Beff in the gazebo, Sunny and Cammy in captivity, and some pink lady's slippers.
Bye.

JUNE 11 Breakfast this morning was grapefruit, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last
night was marinated chicken, broccoli/asparagus, and salad. Lunch was Spaghetti-Os.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 38.8 and 81.5. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the third movement of Stolen Moments. LARGE
EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Full size keyboard with weighted keys, stand, and
pedal $650, Avis car rental $279.79, Toyota Corolla $thousands. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the leaner years of grad school, I was ecstatic to
get asked by Peter Westergaard to drive into New York, pick up some books, and
drive them back to Princeton for the then-princely sum of 50 bucks. Alas, while
driving down Seventh Ave, I hit the mother of all potholes. But all seemed well. A few
weeks later I took the car (which was,by the way, a "Rallye Green" 1975 VW Rabbit)
to Princeton Volkswagen for service. When I went to pick it up, it was no charge, with
simply the words, in all caps, on the invoice: THIS IS A DANGEROUS CAR. DO NOT
DRIVE THIS CAR. Shortly thereafter I dropped it off at Hans Kimm Small Cars on Route
1, signed it over to them, and exited. Lesson learned: don't pick up books in New
York. Or perhaps don't accept money from Peter Westergaard. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS
I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny has been doing some
squeaky meowing since we returned from France. Obviously he never wants to see us
leave again. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Reviews 4.
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: droohey, a fake Irish-sounding word briefly used in

Switzerland to denote the act of turning your car off and on again immediately. The
word eventually fell into disuse, replaced by "turning your car off and on again
immediately." RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
TWO WEEKS: 0 (big woo hoo there, pardner). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE I can crack my thumbs pretty much at will. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Leftovers ALWAYS taste better the second
time. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,462. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY
$2.39 in Maynard and $2.70 on the Merritt Parkway. THINGS THAT YOU DON'T EAT
WITH TRUFFLES my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
I sure have been out and about, with a strong emphasis on the "out". Well, "about",
too. Just try parsing THAT sentence. So much must be reported that I will leave much
of it out. And eventually, dear reader, you will thank me. I'm already thanking me
right now, and as we all know, that rhymes with spanking me. Already we have lost
the thread, so I will return to the first person singular and start again.
I learned recently that parking can be dangerous, as we shift to third person singular:
Beff also learned that parking can be dangerous. So I will back up a little. Soon after
the last update, I mowed all the lawns, on Wednesday. As rolling-eye readers will be
aware, that's and hour and three quarters of work and more than a tank of gas. But it
is what I do. For you see, we were about to be out and about for more than a coupla
weeks. And there was a rehearsal of "Stolen Moments" in New York on Thursday
afternoon I was going to go to, and that meant embarking in the Corolla early
Thursday morning. And on that Wednesday morning, I got a strange frantic e-mail
from Jen, the flute player in the group, ending with "Sent from my iPhone" with "we
want you to conduct this piece" in the body. I called her while she was still rehearsing
and found out that Greg, the director of Merkin Hall, had agreed to step in and
conduct the piece (which I had asked him to hire a conductor for, several times. Well,
twice). Nonetheless, I produced a big score in case I had to conduct it when I got
there.
And by the way, Stolen Moments is the name of the piece I have been calling
"responds-to-jazz" for nigh on a year now, for woodwind quintet, string quartet, and
piano that I wrote at Civitella and in Vermont last year, and it was a real challenge as
well as occasionally fun to write. So there. The players were the Lark Quartet, the
Zephyros Winds, and Tony de Mare, and you, dear reader, may hear the performance
AND see the score by clicking on the various "SM" links to the left and below. In any
case. We were staying with Hayes, so we got there, parked, and I went into the city
on the train for my rehearsal. Things sounded good, tempi were slow, players liked
the piece, etc. We resolved to meet at Manhattan School the next morning at 9 for
the next rehearsal -- then was the show, Saturday night. Meanwhile, Beff went into
Chelsea for a gallery hop and I joined her. Then we bar hopped a bit, came back on
the train and around 8 passed where we had parked the car and saw an empty spot
with some broken plastic, glass, and chrome in its place. Immediately I cellphoned
911, who referred me to the Yonkers police, who referred me to an impound lot, but
of course I got its answering service. I called Yonkers police back, who said I was
misinformed. I had to go to the police station to get a release form for my car. And
why?
Whoa, dear reader. Some dude driving on Palmer Avenue had a seizure and plowed
right into my car and the one in front of us (and two others, it turns out). Mine was
pushed onto the sidewalk, thus it had to be towed. And thus began a bureaucratic
adventure not even of our own making, and it being bureaucratic, was vast beyond
reason. And, by the way, we STILL have no info on who hit us, except that an
eyewitness said he had been taken to the hospital, and he had the maroon car still

parked on the street with NY plate 520524 -- if you are reading this and know who
that is, feel free to contact me, etc. So Hayes and Susan graciously drove us to the
Yonkers police station, and ... wouldn'tcha know, the cop on duty said that to see our
car we had to produce the title and the registration -- given that one was actually IN
the car and the other back in Maynard, that would have been pretty hard, and we
were kinda pressed for time. So eventually he figured out that Motor Vehicle records
told him the names of the car's owners, and it turned out to be us (well I'll be!). So we
got the release form to take to the tow truck people. And, of course, still no
information on why-on-earth-was-he-still-allowed-to-drive guy.
So ... next morning, instead of going to my rehearsal, I was treated to a trip to DanGlo service and towing in Yonkers, where we got driven to see our car in the impound
lot -- pic below. With the rear left tire at an angle, it looks like all one could do was
drive it in circles, but that's silly. In Yonkers they are called doughnuts. So we
retrieved all our STUFF from the car, which made really funny noises when the trunk
or doors were opened, and then Hayes graciously drove us to Scarsdale to get an
Avis rental car (we got a Camry). And we drove to Bronxville and parked. In a slightly
different place, in front of a Cooper Mini. Well, and then there was eating out, and
driving on Saturday to the actual gig, where we parked the Camry. And had Japanese,
and went to the gig.
All the performers were onstage for the pre-concert spiel, which featured Gunther
Schuller holding forth, distinctions between jazz and classical playing, and so on, and
then the gig itself. There was just one little train wreck in the first movement, and the
tempos were still on the slow side, but it happened. And Gunther liked the piece, and
reception was very positive. BUT ...we had to drive RIGHT back to Maynard in order to
go to France the next afternoon, so ... we left at about 11 pm and got into Maynard
just after 2:30 am. Wow.
And then on Sunday, our Franceward day, we did the usual house-ready stuff, drove
to the airport and parked, had beer and burgers in the airport, boarded, and went
Franceward. Now me being me, when I booked these flights I went only to the Air
France site, thinking that for a backwater like Toulouse -- our destination -- only Air
France would have flights there. Silly me. And what Air France offered were flights to
DeGaulle Airport with connecting flights at Orly Airport -- about a 40 minute bus ride
away. No problem, thought I -- I've done flights where I fly to Reagan and transfer to
Dulles, and it was unpainful (a new standard for double negatives!). But of course,
the extra work was to go through Douane, get the luggage, carry it on the transfer
bus (19 Euros per person, by the way, almost 30 bucks) and check in again. Since
Beff had to play two pieces with bass clarinet, that meant a) insuring it and b)
bringing it. Which was extra work, etc. But durned if everything didn't go off without a
hitch. So we made it to Toulouse on a hot clear day, got picked up by the local VCCA
director Lucy Anderton, and got to the VCCA property in Auvillar. By the way,
Toulouse, being the fourth largest city in France, isn't a backwater, and lots of airlines
fly to it. Crap.
Auvillar is a small village in the Bordeaux region of southwestern France that is on a
well-traveled pilgrimaga (pelerinage) route, and the several buildings used and
owned by VCCA are right on it -- we saw many walking by with faux ski poles daily -apparently it's a package deal for pilgrims. Meanwhile, there were five performers
playing on this Etchings Festival for which we were contracted, as well as seven
composers ranging from very green to retired. The setting was quite rustic -- indeed,
we were near a river, yet very close to a nuclear power plant, and it was a short walk
up a VERY steep hill into town -- and the table clearing and washing up was handled
in part by the performers and participants. Most meals were prepared by Lucy, and

they were very, very good, and Rose and Burgundy wines were served with the
meals. Plus -- there was lots and lots and lots and lots of cheese. And it was light until
a bit after ten o'clock every night.
So on most days there were rehearsals as well as lessons with the resident
composers -- John "John" Aylward and James "James" Wizenerowicz representing
ECCE, and me. We all met with every participant at least once, and there were
master classes where work-sharing was done. So there were two string players from
the UK -- Florence and James -- and Maria the bassoonist, MJ the saxophonist, and
Beff the clarinetist. And stylistically the composers were pretty wide-ranging, and all
of them got superb performances -- including recordings of a dress rehearsal and
TWO concert recordings, as every concert was repeated. There were three concerts,
two of them in town at the "mayor's house" and one at the VCCA property -- first and
last being completely full, and the second less so because it came after a big
rainstorm.
In free time we tended to walk into town or have a meal out, and did I mention we
had a lot of cheese? Indeed, there were receptions at a local bar after the first two
concerts in which we paid for a cheese smorgasbord and wine. And they were good,
but think of the cholesterol. Meanwhile, there was also a yearly festival going on in
the town of Auvillar while we were there, so obviously there were no concerts those
days -- the Festival of St. Noe, tied to a lunar cycle of some sort, celebrating the day
that the wine grapes stop being "cultivated" and let to grow as they will. That was a
two-day affair, for which on the first night we were given a meal stipend and let loose
in this little town. So Beff and I got skewered stuff, and some chicken, and some fries,
and of course, plenty of Burgundy. As did all the other participants, who mostly
returned to the home front in the afternoon the next day instead of the morning. And
of course, there was progressively more rambunctious celebrating happening in the
streets. For you see, there was this festival ...
One interesting feature of the landscape was a big air cannon in the distance pointed
straight up. During sprinkles, or larger bits of rain, we would hear it go off
sporadically, apparently with the hope of dispersing the rain clouds. It was explained
to us that it was there to "stress" the grapes and make their wine taste better by
depriving them of too much nourishing rain. Talk about getting it down to a science.
Do composers, similarly, become better composers by having bad performances?
So after the festival was over, the global VCCA director Suny Monk, who was there for
four days of this festival, drove us to the Toulouse Airport -- at 4 in the morning, since
one of the Fellows had a 6 am flight, and ours, at 8:15, was next in line, and this was
done in the name of efficiency. Suny drove us in a rented van, and it was dark.
Eventlessly, though tiredly, we made it back to Paris, onto the bus, and back to
Boston, with everything intact, or so far as we could tell -- the only hitch being that
Beff ALMOST forgot her clarinets on the transfer bus. Amazingly, no screwups by Air
France! Though apparently Janine, who took care of the cats a few of the days we
were gone, was worried we might have been on that Air France flight that exploded
near Brazil. And of course I had to drive the Subaru (no more Corolla, see above)
through the very beginnings of Boston rush hour, but we made it back in time to get
our held mail from the Post Office, and the first thing I ate was -- a dill pouch pickle.
We stayed up as late as we could stand, and by the next morning there wasn't much
sign of jet lag.
And that was yesterday, whose main event was ... buying a new car, of course. While
we were in France, we got updates from our insurance company over the process on
our claim. Where I was informed by e-mail that the assessor declared the car a total

loss and we would be hearing from the total loss department. And we got a
settlement offer, the amount of which we were able to use as a down payment on a
new car. Beff had researched cars on line, and we narrowed it to Hondas and Toyotas,
so we used the internets to find the closest Honda dealer, found its webpage, and
took note if its location via the Map Quest attached to its home page. It was a bit of a
distance and a rather complicated drive, and I was already thinking of what it would
be like just to go in and make that drive for routine service, and ... we got to the point
that Map Quest had pointed as its location, where we found ... NOTHING. We looked
in every direction and drove quite some way on Route 9, and still found no Honda ...
though Acura was strangely well represented. So, screw these Honda people who
can't even give you a decent map, we drove to Acton Toyota, a MUCH easier slog
from Maynard, test-drove a Scion XD and a Corolla, and settled on the Corolla. We
made the down payment, sat through the obligatory sales pitch for sexy-extrasnobody-really-needs, and we will pick up the car today at three. Big woo hoo there,
pardner. I own another blue Corolla. But a lighter shade of blue.
Meanwhile. I mentioned last time that getting to work intensely on a piece made it
easier for me to conceive how to continue with it. Alas, with all the interruptions, I
haven't thought about my microconcerto for two weeks, and I don't think I remember
the brilliant solutions that were parked in my brain a mere two weeks ago. So,
slogging again will I.
So Beff goes to Maine tomorrow for Chair stuff and returns Tuesday. Wednesday we
go to Vermont for two weeks, and to that end, we bit the bullet and got a full-size
keyboard to bring with us to use for composing on. Whether we leave it there for the
winters or take it back and forth has yet to be determined. Yesterday, BEFORE
breakfast, I assembled the keyboard stand, which was marked "quick and easy to
assemble" and was neither -- though "short end goes on the outside" was interesting
text on the one diagram. Too bad it was the only text. And to think I scored so high on
spacial conception....
After which is July, and then August. Wow. With so much still to write this summer, I'm
stoked. Or something like that.
Incidentally, Saturday is my birthday. It will be the first time in many years that my
age is evenly divisible by seventeen. And there's a YEHUDI birthday concert at
Brandeis that night. Holy usurpation, Batman!
Today's pictures begin with a cell phone shot of the rear of my former car; next, the
Auvillar nuclear power plant nearby; the VCCA property viewed from the back and
front; the center of Auvillar with the old grain market building; a church in town; John
Aylward leading a rehearsal at the VCCA rehearsal space; the Etchings group at the
wine festival; dwunken wevelwy by the locals during the festival; and sunset our last
night there. Bye.

JULY 1 Breakfast this morning was rice sausages with cheese, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner last night was a Theo's Chicken Skewer from whole foods. Lunch was
nothing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 45.7 and 83.8. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the first movement of Stolen Moments. LARGE
EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Whole Foods, $156; PickleLicious, $132; Finale 2010
upgrade $129.90, first car payment on new Corolla, $414. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: We had occasional spelling bees in our eighth grade English class,
and I almost always won them -- like Linus in Peanuts, I could have grown up to get a
job spelling. There was one spelling bee that essentially nobody won because no one

could correctly spell "rhythm" My shot, R-H-Y-T-H-U-M, eliminated me, but the other
four left standing also were eliminated, substituting the other available vowels where
I had said "U". I remember also choking in another spelling bee on "labyrinth" (gee,
that's kinda an advanced word for eighth grade) because the teacher running the
spelling bee said it with two syllables. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: When in Vermont, the cats sometimes look wistfully
(or listlessly, or wistwesswy) out the front door at a chipmunk that they will never
catch because we dont' let them out. And sometimes their positions on the furniture
is cute -- see Cammy the Whale below. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Compositions, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: saronnosaric, a Medieval
remedy for gas and bloating. It didn't actually work, but it knocked you out long
enough to recover, anyway. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE I always have about 7 or 8 different kinds of pickles at the ready. WHAT THE
NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: As many tickets are issued for
driving really slow as for driving really fast. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,585.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.69 in Vermont and $2.59 in Maynard. THE
LIST YOU MADE BUT FORGOT WHY my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers,
'Round Midnight.
The palindromes they gave me started to make sense, in that Liliputian way, until I
had some tomato sauce on my car for lunch. Could it be that the head of the pin was
where they were putting all of our leftover gerunds? I'm not sure they'd fit if we
included the cheese as well, but someone in Accounts Invective told me that pine
trees rule. To that I say "garoosophone". Slabs of honey found their way into the
chocolate sidewalk, and that's where we made the scissors really count.
Dear reader, this is a longer-than-usual time since the last update because I've been
out of town, and thankfully, also getting plenty of work done -- even, dare I say, good
work. I also went to the bathroom as many times as I wanted, and so did both cats.
There was an update right here a coupla days after the last posting showing a picture
of the new blue Corolla "S" in our driveway, and a different one is posted below for
this update. We drove in the correct direction to get us to Acton Toyota, got all the
paperwork in order, and drove home. We celebrated by having dinner at the
accustomed time, and this time I believe it was chicken. The next day, Friday, Beff
had to drive to Maine for some sort of Open House thing that she only has to do
because she is Chair, so I was grateful to have a car of my own. Now of course a lot
of people reading this know that it's been miserably cloudy, foggy, and damp in this
part of the country pretty regularly since the first week of June (it is to clear up this
Friday in time for the holiday, but what do they know?). So in the misty foggy
poopyness (or is it "poopiness"?) in the Friday morning, I up and drove to Brandeis via
the far-less-scenic route, involving driving to near BJ's to get on the Mass Pike
eastbound. And why? Well, I'm glad I asked me that. I rescued my Fast Lane (like E-Z
Pass except it's Massachusetts) from the totalled Corolla's window but had no way to
affix it to the new car's window. And there's a Fast Lane service center at the rest
area between Framingham and the Brandeis/Waltham exit -- where I also gave them
the new car info, and got two cute little "sticky feet" to use to mount my transponder.
And mount it I did.
Then at Brandeis I up and got me a new parking sticker. There they asked me what
color I had had before, and I could have said anything -- ooh, if I'd said GOLD, I could
park anywhere on campus without penalty. But really, Gold parking stickers are only
given for 25 years of service, and I don't teach that fast. So I got me a red one, which
was correct. Numbered 1008, for those playing along at home. I then drove home and

tried to figure out what to do next in my so-called microconcerto thing. Not much, as
it turned out, though I did decide to follow through on my quasi-recap, which has an
ironic twist: it's a half-step higher than before, and eventually through the magic of
Davyness(tm), a whole-step higher than before. And then the ending has a bunch of
tremolos, because it is what I decided to do. PLUS, there's a dissolution that slows the
notes down and introduces the ostinato that is going to dominant the movement to
follow. I rule. Ruling is done by me. Ruler, c'est moi.
The next thing of dire importance was Yehudi's usurpative birthday concert on
Saturday night, which was on my birthday. I had gotten several birthday greetings
from people who look at that section of newmusicbox, and His Rossness sent me a
nice Pat Metheny Trio CD which I like. But I spent the evening portion of being newly
evenly divisible by 17 hearing some Yehudi pieces I knew and some I didn't. In
particular, the violin and piano duo that is reputed to have made his first big splash
was done by Danst Epner and Yehudi, and it was a real gas -- not sounding at all like
something from the mid '50s. A.Y., I spent the rest of my birthday at home.
Beff got back Monday, and we spent time packing for Vermont, where we were to
spend two weeks or perhaps more. Preparing the new 88-key keyboard for transport
along with the keyboard stand was among the stuff, plus going through lists of stuff
mentally that we wanted to make sure not to forget. Then on Wednesday the 17th (I
believe that may be Dennis Slavin's birthday) in the morning, we packed up the
kitties, the keyboard, and our stuff, and off we went. It was a fairly eventless drive
except for the many, many one-lane diversions made possible by the federal
stimulus, and I made it in 3 hours 20 minutes. We had to uncover stuff and I had to
find the old cat litter box and leave some food out, and Beff did the majority of the
setting up when she got in. She had the keyboard, of course, since she's got a
hatchback, and since I had the cats. And we stayed in Vermont until June 29, since
Beff's sister requested some time this week, plus we both finished big projects on
Monday. More on that later.
Of course we had to do a big shop, and Hannaford's is a mere four minute drive, so
we got ourselves situated to be self-sufficient. It was still kind of cool and misty and
pooplike, and since the place faces the lake, it is often considerably colder than even
a hundred feet further from the lake. So hunker down we did, and setup was
achieved, and we relaxed.
On our first full day we did our official celebration of my birthday. In olden times
(when I had hair), we made a point of going to the Ground Round and getting Buffalo
wings. This time we drove into downtown Burlington, went to the Burlington Brew
Pub, got some of their internal specialties (Irish red, bitter, IPA, etc.) and I got their
wings. The wings themselves are not great, but I love the sauce, and I even dipped
the lettuce from my salad in it. Because it is what I do. Then we tooled around
downtown a little, even getting some grapefruit-eating paraphernalia at a store called
Kiss The Cook, and noticed that the recession shonuff hasn't hit Burlington very hard.
It was jam-packed, and all the restaurants had lines waiting to be seated. Wow.
With the coolish and dreary weather keeping us in, mostly, we had plenty of time to
work -- though we took bike rides whenever the weather allowed, which I think was 7
out of 11 days there. I finished my microconcerto first movement, and then followed
through on Beff's comment when I first mentioned that I was making it a chamber
concerto for not only the likes of Geoffy, but for Geoffy himself, his bad self! And that
comment was, "ooh, and you can write a funk movement." Given that I'd also
decided to make Geoffy AND Bob (ze percussionist guy) play melodicas -- Bob's
melodica made a cameo appearance in the first movement -- another dimension (if

you want to call it that) to the movement would be a dueling melodicas passage. So I
wrote an opening passage for piano alone that's reminiscent of Absofunkinlutely, with
the instruments sneaking in eventually, and it's fun. I followed that with music that
uses the same licks but sounds suspiciously like cafe music, for all but the piano, got
to a place where the clarinet played a big scale lick, and brought Geoffy in on the
melodica near the top of the instrument -- and for several bars before that, Bob's
been playing the same licks over and over.
And I sent the score up to that point to Geoffy and told him I'd do whatever he
suggested I do next. And I did! Rich harmonies between the two melodicas, then a
badass lick for Geoffy, and ... well, you can see for yourself. I finished the piece on
Monday and was already to call it "Microconcerto", but during a restaurant lunch with
Beff (where we'd gone so I could do more wings), she reached all the way back to
ARMY OF DARKNESS and pulled out the title Micronomicon. And since it's to be
pronounced Mick-ronomicon rather than Mike-ronomicon, I used a K, in deference (?)
to Bartok. And then I saw the evil version of the main character declaring, "You'll
NEVER get the Mikronomicon!" followed by a different reference: Good, bad. I'm the
one with the gun.
So dear reader, you may view a complete score at the blue link to the left, as well as
MIDI of the outer movements in the yellow numeric links. For you see, it is what I did.
In the midst of all that working -- Beff was writing songs plus doing a big academic
promotion document, and watching the three color movies Red, White, and Blue at
night -- we had a nice visit from my colleague Yu-Hui and her husband Bill, her
daughter Emmaline, and her future offspring trapped inside. We did a nice time at the
beach on Saturday afternoon, we did a grilled salmon and corn and vegetables and
salad dinner, saw the Burlington waterfront on Sunday morning, and off they went
back to Boston. They had visited Taiwan just previously, so there were pictures to
share there. And we shared our France pictures.
And there was one night that the usual party by a local family was given, at which I
remember having baked beans, and the stereo playing the same six Beach Boys
tunes over and over (California Girls, Surfin' USA, you know the drill). We decided to
have an ironclad excuse to be out of town, and it was the night that a concentrated
bunch of strong thunderstorms was passing through. In any case, Beff had been
reading the local artsy rag, where she found an ad for a high class (or so it implied) in
my own hometown of St. Albans -- Chow Bella. She made a reservation online, and
we drove there, encountering a downpour only in the last few minutes of the drive -a severe thunderstorm watch for St. A was to expire just before we got there. This
restaurant is an interesting oasis in a sea of dullness (the town itself -- remember, I
grew up there, so I'm entitled), and is in the place where Doolin's was when I was
growing up (they sold chick stuff). It had the exposed brick thing, and an expensive
menu, and even a cocktail pianist, and we got pork medallions and stuff. After we
ordered our drinks (local beer on tap), I noticed that the pianist was my high school
music teacher, Verne Colburn -- also the father of the Marine Band director, Michael.
So we talked, caught up, and left a nice tip. We knew all the tunes he played except
one, and he actually used the canned groove tracks on his keyboard. Which was
always a trip when he finished a tune and was going through the Fake Book for the
next one, since you'd hear just the groove and maybe a bass line doing 1-5-1-5 ...
and then we drove back to find that there had been a lot of wind and rain while we
were gone, and some of our stuff was wet. The water that blew in came periously
close to the surge protector into which our keyboard was plugged, and my computer
bag was moist, and so was my suitcase -- but I guess you gotta get used to this in
rural living. We celebrated by doing what the locals call "drying off" our stuff.

And so yesterday morning we collected the kitties and most of our stuff, except for
the keyboard stand, and at 7:15 am I set off, with Beff about an hour behind. The
kitties were very glad to be back home, especially the part about getting to go
outside. And as usual, they spent much of their time sitting in windows. Of course,
since there was little of value to eat in the fridge, we shopped -- and did so
separately. Beff did staples at Shaw's Market nearby and I went to Whole Foods for
more exotic stuff. To wit -- they're usually out of the Manga Acai white tea halfgallons, and since they had it, I got six of them. And since they are usually out of the
masaman curry soup -- I bought them out. Plus, it's skewer season at Whole Foods, so
I got chicken of various stripes, etc., plus some -- you guessed it -- gourmet pickles.
This morning, since we are nearly out of coffee beans I also made a run to Trader
Joes, got stuff at Staples with a rewards coupon, and got cat treats at K-Mart.
And I hardly mentioned that I had to mow lawns. The grass was long and wet, so it
was a bit more labor intensive than usual, and I still have to do the front and west
side. But it looks nice in the back, and the newly sculpted area where the ice storm
hit looks good. Indeed, that grass was very long, and very thick. And the mint and
catnip we planted are doing very well, thank you.
So now with Mikronomicon in the "I exist" pile, next up is piano four hands for
students -- the one that comes with a trip to LA next July and a guaranteed number of
copies purchased from Peters. There's also the trip to Utah next month, and an
appearance at Tanglewood to meet a (hopefully not scared doodyless) etude-playing
pianist. Meanwhile, Vermont was great and I got good work done. But here I've got
spicy pickles from PickleLicious. And you, dear reader, probably don't.
Today's pictures include the new Corolla, three kitty pix from Vermont, the Bill and YuHui experience (big log version), two shots of my working area, and three sunsetrelated shots. Bye.
JULY 14 Breakfast this morning was freezer waffles, orange juice,and coffee. Dinner
last night was salmon teriyaki, broccoli/asparagus, and salad. Lunch yesterday
seemed to be be not much more than spicy pickles. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE
LAST UPDATE 49.5 and 82.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the
tune from a Road Runner cartoon where Wile E. Coyote set up a "Learn the Play the
Piano" thing in the road that the road runner picked at with its beak. LARGE
EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Whole Foods, $188; Trader Joe's $72, Finale upgrade
$129.90. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: There was a massive change of
educational venue in St. Albans in my sixth and seventh grade years. There had been
3 regional grades 1-4 schoolhouses, a grades 5-6 building, and a junior high.
Apparently the new grade 1-8 school was finished late, since in grade 6 the former
Catholic high school in town was rented for grades 5-8. And in grade 7, the new
elementary school was ready, and it came with a new principal. Who was Mr. Walsh.
He was a butch haircut-roam the halls and yell at slackers kind of principal, and we
didn't know he was the brother of a very busy character actor on TV, Emmett Walsh.
One evening after school it was announced on the school PA, in his voice, "Mr.
Walsh's brother is going to be on Julia tonight." Being that we were seventh graders
at the time, we did our best Beavis and Butthead (way before our time, dontcha
know), the thing where the newly hormoned try to sexualize everything. "Huuh huuh,
he said ON JULIA huuh huuh." NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy naps under the grill, and Sunny naps under the
Adirondack chairs. Not that there's anything wrong with that. UPDATED ON THIS SITE
THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: inorectic, a
condition wherein you can't stop eating bugs. RECOMMENDATION AND

PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I own one pair of red socks. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: People see me and weep spontaneously.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,638. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.59
in Maynard. NOT JUST FOR BREAKFAST ANY MORE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk,
manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
Today I shall avail myself of round sugary candies. For you see, it is Pastille Day.
Though when they talked about storming the Pastille in history class in junior high, I
didn't really get it. The reception food was great, though.
I am scrupulously back to my Tuesday update schedule, even though it's a bit less
than two weeks since the last update, and there's really not much to cover this time.
Unless you like having your life full of needless detail. You do? Oh yeah, that's why
you're still reading.
So after "Mikronomicon" was finished, there was the business of extracting and
producing the parts, and sending them to the Musica Viva office. This being summer
and all, of course, no acknowledgement yet -- probably because it's obviously a piece
where you have to put on your thinking cap. Of course, it being a microconcerto and
all, Geoffy had to get his part separately, and for that I got to bring out all the
massive stuff -- I printed it onto 11x17 paper, trimmed it down to 11x14, and had to
run it through the binding machine twice -- since the only available bindings are 8.5
inches long. Which made the other, normally sized, parts a piece of cake (that's an
expression we use over here).
And when that was all done, there was a day of relax. Which was fine, since Beff had
to go Mainewards to do official chair-type stuff. Including going to a hastily called
meeting whose point escapes me no matter how many times Beff describes it. Of
course, that gave me kitty duty doody, which is way more fun to say than it is to do.
Plus, those two professional letters listed above were far more substantial than mere
recommendation letters, and the two of them took up a whole day. Why?
Confidential. So there. I made up for it by getting zero haircuts.
Meanwhile, given that the Musica Viva piece was in the can, it was time to move on
to the next gig -- piano four hands pieces commissioned by the MTAC -- Music
Teachers' Association of California -- for a target demographic of piano students aged
11-13. Obviously I had some restrictions there, and Catherine O'Connor of the MTAC,
with whom I'd corresponded, tried to help me pinpoint the expected level of difficulty.
Those pieces I wrote for Jim Goldsworthy's students in 2004 -- harder than that. What
Bolcom and Hartke and Chihara wrote for them -- easier than that. Help! So onward I
went, quite a bit more methodically than usual (whatever that means), and by
yesterday had finished a set of "Etude-Fantasies", seven of them, which turned out to
have hit the center of the demographic.
And engraving (entering? copying? what verb do we use when we use Finale, or
Sibelius, anyway?) this piece presented a few challenges. First, I had just installed
Finale 2010 on both my desktop and my laptop (first time my Finale's have been in
sync since 2005), oohed and aahed at some of the newer features (page view is also
a left-to-right scroll view now, very Sibeliusesque, and there is auto rehearsal letters,
which on first effort appeared to be a dud in this incarnation), tried to transfer my
very fussy tie settings, and then there was the format of piano four hands music
itself. Left hand pages are the SECONDO part and right hand pages the PRIMO part,
which is sort of opposite in order to how the music is conceived (presuming the top
down approach, duh), and then there is the issue of making sure the primo and

secondo are exactly parallel (so entry points are easy to find when rehearsing) -- plus
the auto rehearsal letters don't work, since the parallel portions where such a thing
would go on the primo part would be, technically, later than on the secondo part, etc.
This is why the sideways scroll in Finale 2010 was nice -- I could see the facing pages,
make sure the lines were parallel, and even visually so. Cool. Of course, no midi
playback, but that wasn't an issue here.
After the seven etude-fantasies were done, I had to decide whether to number them
or name them -- I chose names. Snakes, Hammers, Invention, Forgotten Song,
whatever. Yesterday all the effected parties -- CF Peters and Catherine -- got their
copies, and it's time to go to the next project. Which I hope to postpone as long as
possible. So, etude 91 -- not yet written. Any etude ideas out there? (by the time you
read this, that question may be moot) After going to the post office to mail the
masters to Peters, Beff and I went to Dunn Oil to prepay for a third of our winter oil
(in July!), and try out the Buffalo wings at a restaurant called 51 Main Street in
Maynard. It wasn't hard to remember the address. The wings were good, but there
weren't a lot of them.
MUCH earlier -- soon after we returned from Vermont -- I had an eye exam and
contact lens fitting at Look Optical. It turned out D'Ambrosio, near Stop and Shop,
where I'd been doing my eye and lens things, doesn't take the new eye insurance
attached to my Tufts Medical health plan (it's called EyeMed, and if you can see well
enough to realize a space is missing in the name, do you need it?). So I was directed,
on my health card, to a website where I could find local providers that accepted it.
And up came the name of a place right in downtown Maynard I had never noticed in
my nine years here. Probably because it has only existed since last October. SO -- I
got pictures taken of my eyes, an optometrist did the usual "This ... or this? ..." thing
that is so familiar. Said my eyes are bad, but can be corrected to 20/15, so that's
good. And I will be test-driving a bunch of ... what did he call it ... amazingly oxygen
permeable lenses. The optometrist hinted that the new prescription may actually be
less strong than the old one. Oh yeah -- and Beff, who has been paying full price for
her eye stuff, has Cigna eye plan, which Look Optical also takes. So there. And SHE
has an eye exam there this afternoon.
Our weekly Friday lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen was shared last week with
Seunghee, who came to see the cats and ask for various kinds of advice. I got the
sliders, Beff got soup, and Seunghee got the chicken panini. And our THURSDAY lunch
was take out panini from Roasted Peppers on Main Street downtown. Again, it's been
there a while and was recommended to us, so I got a chicken one for Beff and the
Cajun one for me, and they were both smantabustic.
This is the somewhat-rare occasion that I do NOT make the score of my recently
completed piece available to the left for free download, since it's already contracted
to CF Peters, i.e., is not unpublished (a double negative!). You can buy your copy
outright, but not until next July. Which, by the way, is when the etude-fantasies get
their official premiere(s). In Los Angeles, at their convention July 2-6. Which is where I
will be, and when.
Meanwhile, summer officially got here -- well, summer weather, that is. Even though
temps are running about 5 degrees below seasonal averages, that's in contrast to a
long span where temps were 15-20 degrees below seasonal averages. The NECN
weather nerd had said that a convergence of five things -- including a Greenland
block, or Greenland block party, whatever -- that happened once every 25-50 years
was responsible for the cold and rainy June. Either that, or ... uh, global warming?

Going out of time sequence again -- when Beff got back from Maine, we did a joint
shop at the Sudbury Whole Foods, including some experimental ice tea (we like it, will
get more), and plenty of dinner items from the deli counter (chicken skewers tonight,
peoples), and discovered that they are no longer going to sell beer and wine. In
Massachusetts, chains can only sell alcoholic stuff in three of their statewie branches,
and I guess some urban Whole Foods is going to take that over -- but given that at
Whole Foods the "I'm in charge of buying the beer" guy and the "I'm in charge of
buying the wine" guy have both introduced themselves to me, it seems a little odd.
So we got some exotic stuff at steep discounts, thus inflating the final tab. And of
course the main purpose of the trip was restocking the edamame. Here's another
palindrome that never caught on: Edamame Ema made.
Beff also brought with her a disc of photos from the U Maine band at Symphony Hall
event from last April, with the directive to do full color and full page inkjet prints of all
of them, including two of some -- thirty some prints in all. Something like that not
only takes the major portion of the day, but it lets you run out of ink -- twice in the
yellow cartridge and once in the light magenta cartridge. For the record, a full set of
the 5 color cartridges is 50 bucks, and a single cartridge, available at K-Mart is 12
bucks. Luckily, we are being reimbursed for materials. And of course all those pix are
in my iPhoto library now, thus inflating the number given above.
Other things include a very-slow-to-unfold refinance which has been going on since
April. Our guy only does refi's with no cost to the refinancers, but there's been
various dribbles of paperwork and nosy questions to deal with, and we had to
resubmit recent paystubs, etc., but we're told all is set and an interest rate is waiting
to be locked in. Gross. Then, there will be a closing. And of course, we are paying
insurance premiums on the new Toyota, while the old one is still listed, until the DanGlo towing guys get the plates on the totalled Toyota (say that five times fast) to the
insurance company. And geez Louise, the police report from Yonkers is takin'
forfreakinever -- we don't get our settlement until that report gets to the insurance
company. And then we will have steak.
Not much of substance coming up in the immediate horizon. Next Wednesday, I drive
to Vermont and back for the yearly beer basch(tm) with Colonel Mike. Beff goes to
Maine, again, Thursday, for an amount of time to be determined. And Korean
traditional instrument -- boning up time.
There are so few new pictures that one actually comes from the Vermont sojourn. So
-- only four. Another Vermont sunset pic, a leaf on the front porch, Sunny in the new
grass area, and the cats on the porch. Bye.
JULY 28 Breakfast this morning was light sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner
last night was leftover garlic mash and pickles. Lunch was fruit. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 54.3 and 87.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS
I TYPE THIS Wouldn't It Be Nice by the Beach Boys. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST
UPDATE Re-fi $0, Web Easy Pro $60, TransType Pro $179, Beff's new glasses $295, my
contact lens fitting, $150. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Well, I guess 51 Main restaurant (guess at which address?), since I returned,
unbidden, for their Buffalo wings a second time; and Trader Joes, for the lime ice
floes. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Whole Foods -the gooseberries I got there were overripe. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
After my first year at Columbia, Beff got a one-year full-time gig at Holy Cross College
in Worcester, and I had a year leave. So we looked at rental houses in the area -including one that obviously the agent couldn't unload, a 6-bedroom Victorian with
silver door handles and a kitchen the size of the grand canyon -- it had once been a

restaurant, evidently. We settled on a 3-bedroom in Spencer, on a lake. After it was

clear we'd stay there a while, we went to THE FAIR -- back when it was possible for
local companies that could be K-Mart ripoffs -- and got a red Coleman RAM-X15 canoe
for $350, $100 off. On Easter Sunday, we took it out for its first spin from the
communal dock. We knew nothing of getting into, balancing, and starting a canoe
(though after many months of using a blow-up raf and plastic oars, it seemed pretty
deluxe), so naturally we fell out, in waist-deep water. The next day, we tried again,
and were far more careful, and eventually we became experts, doing as many as
three canoe rides a day. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny ensconced himself under the cedars in the way back and
bolted out as I was photographing him. See below. Plus both cats are very needy in
the mornings. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions,
Recordings, Home, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: torquemeedle, the first
bun you put on the grill but don't use because it gets too burnt. RECOMMENDATION
AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 0 (woo hoo!). FUN
DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I use "boat shoes" for mowing the
lawn and bicycling. Not when we use the canoe, because we don't. And I have four
pairs of them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Police,
particularly in Cambridge, remember that yelling isn't a crime. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 13,681. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.54 in Maynard, $2.59 in
Sheldon, Vermont, $2.49 in Maynard. WOULDN'T IT BE NICE my head, ladybugs, a
tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
"Trickle, trickle, trickle." Thus spake the spoon, once it was given its own mouse. The
tenth time the clock tolled (all told), it was decided that the tree would make its own
pasta, so we gave the eggs to the peasants, who promptly turned into starch. When
we got the camera back, my head made a little clicking noise, but that didn't mean
we would have to eat Post-Its. On the contrary, we counted to seven and barked.
Finally the summer has arrived with a vengeance. First time the air conditioners were
turned on: April 29. Second time the air conditioners were turned on: this most recent
Saturday. And they've been going fairly constantly since. As they say, but in the
wrong order, it's the humidity, not the heat. It's wilty outside, but scrumptious inside
in the computer room and master bedroom, thanks to that which will be costing us in
electricity. The dining room-cum-composing room is usually fine, since it doesn't get
sunned on, so I have been writing up a storm.
Structurally, there is a sound A-B-A form in this update, since Beff was in Maine last
we heard, she returned, and now is back there again. She returns tomorrow night,
and then things shift. Indeed. So what's been up? There have been the Friday lunches
at the Cast Iron Kitchen. There have been bike rides, and mine have gotten
progressively longer -- until the humidity kicked in, that is. I made it up to the third
most difficult of the rides (nature viewing area, two strenuous hills) before several
days of pooful rain got me off schedule. Then heat and humidity arrived, which I like,
and a new ride opened up -- the former Army Reserve area in Stow/Maynard/Sudbury
that was decommissioned and turned into a nature reserve has very recently been
opened up -- except for the Air Force weather station -- to bicycle riding, and
yesterday I did my first ride through the reserve. It's lovely, steamy, has a frog pond
with those rubber-band froggies. And since my rides have been at around 6:30 in the
morning, I've had to bring the face net to keep the bugs away -- and even at that, the
bigass flies don't mind landing on my t-shirt and biting right through it (Jumanja,
anyone?). But it's a lovely way to spend the very first part of the morning, when the
air temperature is almost exactly the dew point (speaking of which -- lately the dew
point has been between 68 and 72, so there. That's "oppressive").

The most semi-poopified event of this period -- not because it's literally poopified, or
because it's made of semi-poop, but it does knock out a large portion of the day -was my yearly physical, which was fine. Even with the prostate exam, which males
reading this will know about -- it's kind of a reach. I was one pound lighter than my
last physical. And blood tests were normal. My celebratory gesture for having had to
fast before the blood work was to ride, in the driving rain (almost ironically), for those
Buffalo wings at 51 Main. I was worth it. They were worth it.
And the day following the exam, as if I got to exhale after sucking in my gut for a
while, was my yearly beer morning with Colonel (formerly Major, formerly Captain,
formerly Lieutenant, formerly Sergeant) Colburn in far northern Vermont. How far
north in Vermont? Cell phone calls either happen such that you hear them and they
don't hear you, OR are interrupted by a voice in French saying you don't have the
right service, please go away. So around 6ish, I set off in Mr. Blue (a name for my new
car that I hope doesn't stick), encountering several bits of rain ranging from pissy to
delugy, and didn't have to distract myself with the stunning views that weren't there.
My arrival was around 10:30 after I filled up at a service station in Sheldon whose
restroom had a sink but no running water. I brought sour candy (CryBaby Tears and
Toxic Waste) plus nine bags of super hot Utz chips, and was rewarded with a nice
lunch and some home brew. It was family reunion week for the Colburn clan, of which
there are many, and Colonel Mikey's nephew was there with a large collection of
home brews -- 6 or 7 varieties, if I recall right -- and so we had the customary beer
plus lunch until 1, the usual conversation about composers the Marine Band should
be aware of, and then the sitting and looking at the lake part. When I set off, I went
directly to Warner's Snack bar for some of their lovely burgers, and made it home in
(not literally) no time. On the way back, there was no rain, and a bit of sun. So there.
Meanwhile, Beff got back, and went back. To Maine, that is. She put finishing touches
on her bass clarinet and video piece ("Stand Facing the Stove"), which has cameos in
it by Susan Orzel (stirring gravy) and me (making pasta, making chicken). Just as it
was finished, she decided she needed a different ending gesture, and that I would
make another cameo -- taking silverware out of the silverware drawer and placing it
on the counter. Out came the Flip Video, and believe it or don't, we rehearsed that
take. Then we did it in one, and the piece was finished. Massive production ensued -some of it possibly related to the never-ending collection of documentation related to
her promotion to full professor, currently in progress.
Beff had also gotten some Flash/HTML code from Albany Records. Which may be the
first time in the history of the English language that that sentence was uttered, or
typed. It's something to put some e-commerce on your website that would link to
Albany to buy your stuff. It seemed sexy enough for Beff's website (I also have an
Albany CD and didn't get this e-mail, which makes me go "Blorf"), but we weren't
sure that with the vintage 2002 program we use for our websites that we knew how
to embed it. I knew there was a "pro" version of Web Easy (said program) and that VCom had been bought by somebody, so we up and looked for it online, found it at
Avanquest on special for 50 bucks (no upgrade path from the cheap-o version, alas),
and downloaded and installed it. The interface isn't much different, and the data file
format is the same, but it does have some nice extra bells and whistles -- including
the ability to embed YouTube videos (SPECIFICALLY YouTube videos, nobody else's).
So once I figured that out, I embedded one on the HOME page of my own website
because I could, and we made vague plans for Beff to establish a YouTube account,
upload some of her videos, and embed them in HER home page. Alas, the HTML files
that Web Easy Pro generates have a different filename protocol (I've never used the
phrase "filename protocol" before -- hee hee), so it's a bit of work generating them
and then renaming them in order to FTP them -- oh, this is getting boring. We can do

sexy stuff with a little extra work. So there. Plus, and reassuringly, it bombs just as
frequently as Web Easy non-pro. And of course I couldn't figure out how/where to
embed the sexy Flash/Java html.
And I've been using my days to write -- except for Vermont beer and yearly checkup
days, that is. Two new piano etudes have joined the collection, leaving only eight left
to write all time. Alexa Glane piped in with etude ideas, which I have filed, and one of
which I was going to do anyway, and ... DID. I finally overcame my tremolophobia and
did the tremolo etude -- see Whole Lotta Shakin' link to the left -- and continued my
piano-with-other-keyboard series with a melodica. Indeed, I have a picture below of
my setup for writing that piece. See "You Blew It" links to the left. There is NO MIDI for
the tremolotood, not because I wouldn't release it, but because Finale 2010 bombs
when trying to do "Human Playback" on that file, thus it also bombs when generating
a MIDI file. Finalemusic is aware of the problem and may or may not fix it (I bet the
latter). But obviously those pieces existed to put off the inevitable writing for string
trio and a Korean instrument -- in my case, the haegeum, a 2-string bowed fiddle
type thing. With Beff safely back in Maine, I was able to go through the materials I'd
been sent -- the vast majority of it with text in Korean, thank you very much -- to
figure out how to write for it. Yesterday, I started the piece. So far, I'd say this about it
-- the haegeum does pentatonic collections against a chromatic accompaniment, and
the intrepid composer tries to notate it in a way that forms a middle ground between
Eastern and Western inflections. Davy put himself into third person there, and, here.
And of course there is more work to be done on that piece. I won't stop writing it until
it's finished. Then there might be a bit of cardinality left over for everyone else to
share.
Hayes finished the Etudes Vol. 3 notes, which I forwarded to Bridge Records, who got
on the case in record time. Becky at Bridge wrote to ask for some "highly personal"
images for the CD cover, and I sent a bunch of closeup pictures of the etudes -- both
the prism shots of the toods on this volume from "Prismetudes" and some extreme
closeups of the sketches for Stutter Stab -- plus my multi-keyboard picture from the
BMOP CD, and a newly composed shot of my writing area as I was doing the withmelodica piece. The melodica shot made it to the cover and the sketch closeups to
the back cover of the booklet. Doug, the graphics guy, even moved the piano bench
off to the side for the cover, thus meaning a bit of work filling in the part of the piano
covered by the bench in the original shot. So you can see my original shot below, and
the cover when it comes out. Things happen.
Oh yeah. And last Saturday we had the opportunity to meet up with Soooozie Narucki
and David Rutherford, the husband of her, and we chose the Northampton Brewery -unsurprisingly located in Northampton. It was old home week, since David had been
a Rome Prize fellow same time as I (guess how Soozie met him). We talked about
music and drywall -- don't everybody? And had sandwiches and shared wings. Then
we came home.
Last time I made mention of a re-fi that was going on forever. How forever? Our guy
finally found a rate he liked, and we will be three-quarters of a point lower while also
paying zero for closing costs. We said the only possible closing date was this
Thursday, which he said was fine. But apparently this thing has dragged on for so
long that the appraisal expires on Thursday. So we moved the closing to Wednesday
EVENING -- since Beff can't get back from Maine until about 8, that's when the closing
will be. Think of Beff here -- four hours of driving, possibly through a thunderstorm,
and IMMEDIATELY she has to sit down and sign thirty documents only cursorily
explained by people trained to make cursory explanations of complicated stuff. Our

reward: about $400 less a month in mortgage payments.

And then on Friday we go to Vermont for our August sojourn, staying till about the
23rd. Within that sojourn is plenty else, including Beff's week at Vermont Youth
Orchestra camp -- the first Troyless (insert Crisseda joke here) one. Almost
immediately I return to Maynard, to fly to Utah for Barlow stuff, and immediately
upon return I do an eye doctor thing to make sure the incredibly permeable lenses
are doing fine, and I drive to Tanglewood for my etude performances -- apparently I
am staying that night at Serenak, where I last stayed in 1984. Then right after my
piece, I say my regrets and drive back to Vermont to begin the relaxing part of the
summer. At least for me, one would hope.
Today's pictures include Sunny in the cedars and the bolting from them, both cats on
the bit of fence that is left, two closeups of the Stutter Stab sketches, the work area
shot with melodica, a flower pic from this morning, the Assabet (looking west) this
morning, a canoer on the Assabet (looking east) this morning, and a shot of my car
and a big tree this morning. Bye.

AUGUST 25 Breakfast this morning was light sausages, orange juice, and coffee.
Dinner last was Chef Boy-Ar-Dee reduced fat beef ravioli from a can. Lunch was ... it
turns out, nothing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 52.8 and 92.5 (97
in Utah). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Kyrie Eleison from
Bernstein's Mass. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST Mattress for Vermont place ca. $350,
20th anniversary dinner exactly $150 with tip, re-shop at Shaws for staples $133;
buncha stuff from The Pickle Guys, $131. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY Bluebird Cafe in Winooski, for the marinated vegetables and
Hennepin beer on tap. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Bluebird Cafe in Winooski, for the deviled egg with pork thing that apparently gave
Beff some mild food poisoning; American Airlines, who takes Chrysler's old slogan
"Nobody sweats the details like us" and leaves out the last two words. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After our wedding (at a chapel in the Harvard Divinity
School) and before we embarked on our honeymoon (Bermuda -- in August!!) we
agreed to co-write a fanfare thing for an event at the Wang Center for the Performing
Arts. The rain was coming down in buckets, and we were driving Alison Carver's car
from Cambridge to Princeton, and we took turns driving. Whichever one of us wasn't
driving was assigned to write brass quintet music. The co-author nature is wildly
evident in the piece, and in the press for the event itself, Richard Dyer characterized
what we did as "postponing our honeymoon" in order to write the piece. Which we
called Fan-Fair. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO
REPORT: While we were in Vermont, the cats slept on a totally different floor from us;
back in Maynard, they sleep at the end of the bed and stretch wa-a-a-ay out. They
also are glad to be able to go outside again, and since the grass hasn't been mowed
in three weeks, it's fun to watch them high-step through the grass. UPDATED ON THIS
SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Recordings, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: driskle, an ancient word derived from Sumerian, meaning to drool long strings
of saliva. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO
WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE the local Roche
Brothers uses a fake chalkboard font for their signage in the produce department -EraserDust, which I created in 1992. The same font is used in South Park when
characters write on the blackboard. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE
IN CHARGE: More words in common usage that are intrinsically funny -- "traipse", for
instance. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,876. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE
RECENTLY $2.54 in Maynard, $2.59 in Lee, Massachusetts, $2.67 in Burlington,
Vermont. THINGS THAT DON'T LOOK ANY FUNNIER UPSIDE DOWN my head, ladybugs,

a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

FOUR WEEKS since the last update, and do I hear anyone complaining? Whoa, I guess
I got so nostalgic about writing (typing, actually) into this space that I actually started
entertaining the idea of creating a blog on blogspot. For you see -- that I can update
just about anywhere, whereas I'm constrained to the computer room of my own
house for this one. Which is not a blog, but an "update". Which also makes me think
-- is there such a thing as a downdate, and if there were (I OWN the subjunctive!),
what would it be? But in any case, I started to think (in my apparent delirium) of what
kind of blog posts I would do. Well....there's the rant about making professional
applications look professional, the rant about track listings for CDs in applications
(closely related to the first), various who-cares stuff about music, etc. Since I haven't
finished THIS thingy-dingy (my "update"), the idea of Blog remains headwards. Once I
finish it, I may feel slaked. Who knows? Chi sa? Chi conosce? Qui connait?
When last our intrepid me-ness typed into this space, the me-ness that is totally me
had just mowed lawns and was readying for Beff to get back from Maine so we could
ready (boy, are we ready -- an intrinsically funny word, to boot) ourselves for our
three-week-plus time in Vermont. And here's where we pick up the story. Beff got
back, and rather late in the day. We refinanced the house, got a lower rate PLUS a
bunch o' cash back instead of paying in, but the appraisal on the house was only
good till the end of Wednesday, and Beff couldn't leave Maine until 3 in the
afternoon. So a company that has a motto "call us for your closing" or something like
that, sent a rep to our house at 8 with a huge pile of paperwork -- in duplicate, natch
-- for us to sign, etc. At 7:20 I got a call from Beff, "I'm near Lowell and there's a
traffic jam". Aieee! Well, Beff made it in just in time. And we closed, got the lower
rate and paid no closing costs. Indeed, in a week we got Fedex'ed a check for $1006
for reasons that I'd rather not know. Plus we got the leftover escrow from the old
mortgage back. The comical side: our old mortgage was with Countryside, now
owned by Bank of America. The new mortgage is with -- of course, Bank of America.
So I guess it bought a mortgage from itself?
We spent the next day, Thursday, not going to Vermont, but we did pack. In the
afternoon, Johnny A and MJ came for a visit, and they brought mucho strong beer and
we ate picklage in excess. The beer was strong enough that I thought it would be a
neat idea to give them a gallon of Picklelicious hot pickles and a quart of Picklelicious
spicy olives to take back with them, and they did. Then the next day we went to
Vermont with the cats. This was on a Friday. We set up there, and I took YASP (Yet
Another Sunset Picture). Saturday afternoon I drove back, for you see, on Sunday I
was to get on a plane (two of them, actually, in succession) to go to Utah.
This time the carrier of choice was American Airlines, with a flight to O'Hare and a
switch to another one to Salt Lake City. The dreary part of producing the credit card
to pay fifteen bucks for a suitcase that I could easily have prepaid for online
happened, and then of course I waited right next to the kiosk for a long time while
someone deigned to find my luggage tag, etc., etc. The flight was fairly eventless,
although I noticed both ways that American pilots like to get on the horn to talk to the
passengers about the turbulence a lot. On the way to Chicago I heard about the
weather front and exactly where (Schenectady) it was supposed to get smooth (and
on the way back it was in Missouri, but then it was the long detailed explanation
about how the air was choppy everywhere in the country). On the long, long
approach to the SLC airport, I got a nice view of what is apparently the largest or
second largest open copper mine in the US (fugly). And of course when I
disembarked, the temperature was a cool 97.

I do the Utah thing every August for the meetings of the Barlow Foundation board.
Last year it happened at a ski resort in the mountains (Snowbird) that was
unavailable this time, so we did it at a Springhill Suites at Thanksgiving Point -Thanksgiving Point consists of a dinosaur museum, movie theaters, a pricy restaurant
and a dramatically upscale home furnishings store. No bother. The Board did its three
days of meetings to determine the winner of the Barlow Prize (for a trombone
concerto for Joe Alessi, and he was there serving on the panel, too) and the Barlow
commissions. Lunch and dinner with the Board, staff, and interns happened at
various locations from the Texas Roadhouse (ironically to "taste the Utah experience")
to the Foundry Grill at Sundance -- which is in the mountains, dontcha know. And
after all was done and the (rather reduced) fundage assigned, I flew back, except this
time in the opposite direction, to the pleasant chatter of the "sorry about the choppy
air, folks" serenade from the captain. At precisely 10:30 pm that Thursday, I got my
($15 extra) bag off the carousel, and Beff called on my cell, and all was well. And I
drove -- IN THE DARK! -- home.
The next day I had an appointment with the optometrist to look over my new
contacts (all is well), and the grass was long enough that I re-mowed quite a bit of it,
and then I had appointments in western Massachusetts. Tanglewood. Texas tea. So
right around noon off I went, and the drive was shorter than expected. So much
shorter that I stopped for lunch at a Friendly's in Lee -- where the waitress I had was
so harried, overworked, and mistreated that I left a 65 percent tip. I drove through
the very slow Lee traffic and eventually found Lenox, where I had not visited since
1990 (Tony Brandt's wedding), and it was unrecognizable. To me. And very, very
upscale. With next to no parking.
In any case. I was given lodging at Serenak, the old Koussevitzky mansion (where I
stayed when I was a Fellow there in 1982, along with Ross and Martler and Dan and
Nami), where I arrived, got settled and took pictures. Then I was able to make it onto
the grounds in time for the second half of the first concert of the Contemporary Music
Festival -- and all the pieces were very good and very well performed. I sat behind
Gusty Thomas in a seat that had been empty before I sat in it but was now full by
virtue of the fact that I was sitting in it, and joined a Philadelphia music contingent for
the beginning of a conversation with Yehudi Wyner et al. I then had to get back to the
venue for the dress rehearsal of my six piano etudes -- Steve Drury was the coach
and both pianists were very good -- Greg De Turck was a knockout, and he had more
variety in the toods assigned to him (Ming's pieces were all zippity-pow stuff).
Soon I was picked up at Serenak by Bernard Rands and taken to a restaurant in Lenox
(Zinc something), where we were meeting Yehudi and Gusty for dinner (she paid, and
boy do I owe her big time, in more than one way). I got salmon and Bloody Marys and
beer and wine, and all was fun. We were joined later by Anthony Cheung and his
posse, and then Gusty drove us back -- against the grain, as a Yo-Yo Ma concert was
just getting out. Next day I sat in back of the mansion looking at the Tanglewood Bowl
for a while, then walked around the grounds (only somewhat recognizable, as much
had been added), did lunch with the Philadelphia people (including David Laganella,
who introduced himself to me without including his name, but I got it from context),
and then went to Concert 2, on which my toods were done. It was another wellprogrammed concert, and I liked everything. I sat in front of Harriet Eckstein, who
sponsors composers at Tanglewood, which will be germane shortly. First Ming played,
and then Greg played -- there was spontaneous applause after E-Machines (the fist
thing and the Fur Elise quote, dontcha know), and then an amazingly subtle
performance of Les Arbres Embues. This Greg dude is going places. Lenox, for
instance. Both pianists then took their curtain calls,and failed to acknowledge the
me-ness that is me, and also the composer of those toods. I saw Gusty run to the

stage to get them to point to me, and they did, and when I did, I rushed the stage,
jumping onto the lip of the stage to get onto the stage itself. What I didn't know was
that the lip of the stage wasn't part of the stage -- it was a flimsy boundary covering
up the open part under the stage -- which, of course, toppled (another intrinsically
funny word). When I got back to my seat, Harriet said, "that's bringing down the
house!"
The toods were on the first half, so I could sit more distant for the second half. Which
I spent next to my homeboy Nico Muhly, who was there because he was there. He
indulged in some typical Nicolity, including pointing to the crazy eyebrow in the
Rzewski picture in the program and telling me I had to grow one such eyebrow. I'm
working on it, but the squinting is driving me crazy. So -- after the concert, it was get
into the Corolla time, and I zipped up, via Route 7, to Burlington. Oddly, I got home
before Beff got home from her VYO concert thing. And then the summer was set to
"Continue" mode.
And "Continue" I did, all the while setting it in ironic quotes. Sorry, in "ironic" quotes. I
had to get to work on my piece for HaeGeum and string trio, especially since I found
myself on line described as an "established" composer writing for the Pacific Rim
2010 festival, etc. I sweated to write the piece -- because it was finally hot and humid
-- and kept with the idea of giving pentatonic collections to the Korean instrument
and chromatic ones to the string trio, and I went for some noisy effects that I
normally eschew (another intrinsically funny word), and used up my glissando
quotient at least to 2018, but finish it I did (Yoda-speak, for them of you what are in
the know). Then, using my special status as Former Teacher of Two Korean Students, I
asked them how to say "Morning Fog" in Korean. Since they both gave the same
answer, I know I probably got it right -- see "AhChim AnGae" link up and to the left. I
also got the Korean for "my head hurts", "I stepped on a snail", and "my pants are on
fire", should I need them in the future. Seung-Ah seemed nonplussed by the whole
exercise, and I wonder if minused means the same thing as nonplussed.
MEANWHILE, our marriage turned twenty while we were in Vermont. Yes, we are 8/11
people, from 1989, and for some reason we decided Italian food in Burlington would
be the correct celebratory context. We went to Trattoria Dellia, where the food was
good and the table way too small. Then we came back.
And one night we spent doing dinner for Rob and Victoria Paterson -- Rob is doing a
composer residency with the VYO, Victoria is a violinist currently doing West Side
Story on Broadway, and Rob also runs the American Modern Ensemble. It was good to
get to know them, and to know something about vegetarian and vegan cooking,
which I did, so there.
So I finished my summer work with about a week left in our time in Burlington, so it
was either goof off (or goof on, which is not actually the opposite) or find something
else to write. I had read something about trying to write a modernist polka in Jim
Ricci's blog (deconstructing-jim at blogspot), and that set off an alarm in my head (an
imaginary one, actually). So I sifted through YouTube for polkas, and of course
remembered polkas by Stravinsky and Shostakovich, and then took four days writing
etude 93, a "polka etude". How do you write a polka etude? Practice, practice. Or you
can turn the page. Or see "Polkritude" links up and to the left.
Our last several days in Vermont were spent not panicking. We also spent a
considerable amount of time not nailing our heads to the floor, and about the same
amount of time not thinking about eating insects for breakfast. We took the
obligatory yearly trip to Warner's Snack Bar in St. Albans, mostly because I worked

there the summer of 1976 and the same people run it and recognize me, etc., but
also because the burgers are great. We also tried out a new local pub near the
Burlington-Winooski line called the Bluebird Cafe, which has a weird appetizer menu
with beer in the afternoon, and we tried their "pickle pot" (weird) and marinated
vegetables (fantastico) and fries (came with aioli and homemade ketchup dipping
sauces and the aioli was per mortere), and the Hennepin "Farmhouse Ale" was on
tap. I knew it was made by Ommegang, in Cooperstown, but had never seen this
variety on tap. I declared it good. And, indeed, to the amusement of Beff, I declared it
"clean". So the next day, after the Warner's trip we stopped by again and decided to
check out other menu items -- and especially have some more Hennepin on tap. Beff
got the deviled eggs with pork -- which looked like deviled eggs with bacon and a rich
yellow sauce -- and I forget what I got. But the next day Beff showed signs of mild
food poisoning, and insisted on bland food and drink.
Then yesterday was the day to come back -- in the half-day window without big
thunderstorms out and about. The cats usually sense when they're going to have to
spend 3-4 hours in confinement in the back of a car, so they find hiding places. This
time we packed the cars Sunday morning so as to relax them more -- it didn't work. I
had to rassle a hissing Cammy from under a bed, and Sunny from on top of a
shower ... and even though the traffic on 495 was unbearable (a lane blocked off for
what turned out to be NO work crews), I made it back in less than four hours. And
unpacked, and shopped. And made pasta with butter for Beff, because it is bland.
And now, thanks to a letter from Allstate, I know the name of the guy who totalled
our 2002 Corolla. It looks like a lot of work to get the $279 we spent on a rental
because of this guy, and I may not bother. But I may.
Meanwhile, the lawns are in desperate need of mowing. But with two rainstorms here
yesterday, etc., they are as yet far too wet to yield to the blade of our cheap (but
functional) lawnmower. And classes start Thursday, though not for me until Monday.
There is a department meeting (memo: please stop having dept. meetings on first
days of classes. Thank you for listening) followed by a department barbecue, and I
think it's actually food and not people that are being barbecued (although with death
panels coming up, who knows what they'll allow nowadays?), so the school year
beckons. And that's another intrinsically funny word. And this morning Beff left for
Maine, where her beginning of school year duties will keep her for ten days, all of
them consecutive.
Other things coming up. Toods 3 will be released by Bridge in October, and it's
already set up on amazon. Cleaning at dentist. Colonoscopy. Pot luck for department
at our house the day before Labor Day. And, teaching. I have to use the AldwellSchachter text for theory, which I loathe (it says on the syllabus that I loathe it), so
the whole semester will be one long upbeat to the day we take it outside and swing
at it with an axe (I have done exactly this before with it, so it will be vaguely
structural).
There are lots of YASPs in my retinue, some of which I've shared below. But first it's
Cammy at Beff's workspace-cum-dining room table. Then three YASPs, me 'n' Beff 'n'
Rob Paterson, the local hill and stop sign where we stayed in Utah, the restaurant at
Sundance, Serenak, my room at Serenak, the duo pianos at Serenak for conducting
classes, the view from Serenak, and Yehudi and Gusty at dinner. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 8 Breakfast this morning is nothing. Dinner last was an Annie's veggie
burger and fried onions (leftover from pizzamachen). Lunch was heirloom tomato

sandwiches. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 45.1 and 86.2. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Davy's setting of A.E. Housman's "With
Rue My Heart is Laden" LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE some more pickles
from The Pickle Guys, buncha stuff from Staples including a 500GB drive, $129.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Shaw's, for finally getting
me a gasoline discount, and the Pickle Guys, for fixing an order they screwed up.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Pickle Guys, who
screwed up an order. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My birthday in 1989
(age 31, peoples) was also the last day of classes at Stanford, and I held a party at
my cabin nestled in the redwoods. Beff had already finished her year at Reed, and we
had driven all of her stuff in a van from Portland to Woodside (she took driving
lessons to bone up, and emerged with a mantra: "Okay to the left. Okay to the right. I
am proceeding."). There were 144 rickety stone steps leading down from Big Tree
Way to the cabin, and we sat on some of them in the party. While holding a wine
glass, I swatted a mosquito, thus breaking the wine glass. And when we ran out of
beer, Sean Varah offered to "go get some Steamage" (or, Anchor Steam). I think this
is when I started adding -age to words, dunno. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST
WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny hangs out where we once planted
catnip, though there is hardly any left there; and when I opened the computer room
window this morning for them to have a view, Sunny growled at something. UPDATED
ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sladdin, a
particular pattern of tread found on the bottom of leather sandals.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE my right thumb bends back at
nearly a right angle. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE:
trucks backing up play a half-diminished seventh arpeggio instead of a repeated
note. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,920. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY
$2.58 in Maynard, $2.40 (with Shaw's discount) in Maynard. THINGS THAT ARE NO
FUNNIER IN SANSKRIT my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round
Midnight.
For the first time in many a fortnight (hey -- I guess these updates are fortnightly,
which is not so different from biweekly, being that it's identical), there is no new
music to report. No new Davy music, that is. I'm sure plenty of composers writed
stuff, but I'm not among their ilk. You see, I'm not famous enough to have a posse, so
I have an ilk. Speaking of which, I DID at least decide to write for Rhonda Rider (she
asked many a fortnight ago -- at least 26 of them) and HER ilk -- that is, cello, cello,
cello and cello. I think on the cover, instead of saying "for cello, cello, cello, and
cello", or even worse, "cello, another cello, yet another cello, and yet another another
cello" I could probably abbreviate to "for 4 'cellos", or in pretentious mode, "for 4
'celli", or more pretentious still, "for 4 violoncelli". That's a project that I'll probably
try to cram into the eentsy weentsy crawl spaces I now have in my schedule. Or was
it (Diana) Krall space? Enquiring minds don't want to know.
But in this intervening time since the last time I interrupted an intervening time,
there was a speech, of sorts, and it was by me. And the food was free (pollo, poulet,
chicken). But let me back up a bit. Not so far as not to be able to reach the keyboard,
silly, but back up in time and not in space. Though there's nothing wrong with either.
You can tell I'm padding, can't you?
Okay. So.
We got back from Vermont and I filed an update. That was a Tuesday. On Thursday,
classes started, though none were taught by me. But there was a music department
meeting to be had (note to department, second warning: please stop having

meetings on the first day of classes. Thank you for listening. Again) followed by a
department barbecue. Now, the department was not literally barbecued, you see
(that would be silly), but a bunch of barbecued stuff was procured from Redbones
(who always advertises on Dinosaur Annex programs), who gave it freely in exchange
for fundage. The proliferation of chicken and pork made vegetarians not care, but
there was the rice and macaroni salad, et al. During the course of said barbecue,
which was outside and on the west side of the music building, several people,
especially from Theater, encroached and asked "what is this?" and invariably the
answer was "food". And of course, I brought hot sauce. When it was done, I and my
blue Toyota joined rush hour, which is devoutly not to be wished.
Meanwhile, Beff was in Maine for a ten-day stint, doing chair stuff and putting her
foot through one of the steps on the back porch, and preparing for roof replacement,
and, now, step replacement. And I spent the weekend doing just a bit of bike riding
(for the weather was dry and nice) and getting ready for ... classes! I have eight
composition students (Count with me: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
Now in Italian! uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei, sette, otto; now the NAMES of the
students: Adam, Christian, Jared, Hiroki, Travis, Michele, Bradley, Dan; now the names
with -age: Adamage, Christianage, Jaredage, Hirokage, Travisage, Michelage,
Bradlage, Dannage) that all got scheduled for Mondays and Wednesdays and
Thursdays, and Theory 2 to teach -- with a textbook I don't like (I think I said "loathe"
in the last update -- loathage, if you will). And running was what I hit the ground. And
I spent three hours with the slow movement of K. 488 in Theory 2 doing what
education pretentio's call "making it palpable". When we were done, we could
definitely palp it. But wait, there's more -- we come back to the piece later, after
poring through the inscrutable textbook (I tried scruting it, but it was resistible).
And that Thursday of the first full week of classes, was chalk full (most people write
that "chock full", and either works, or neither). I was done with Dannage at 1, and
was then due back at 5 for activities surrounding the teaching award winners, and
being that I was among them, I had to put on something black. Which turns out to be
slimming. But I did serious hammock time in the interim. Nonetheless, back I came,
there was a reception and the usual proliferation of people holding drinks and plates
(thus being unable to scratch their noses), and a dinner. The featured speakers: the
award winners. I hadn't been told, except maybe in passing last April, that I would be
speechifying (or, in educational parlance, gracing the assembled with speechage),
and it's probably a good thing that I was third of three. For the chemistry guy showed
stuff from online lessons, and the art history guy talked about art history stuff, and I
improvised. I recapped the week's teaching of K. 488 and tried to talk too fast for
anyone to follow. And in the brief Q&A that followed, Robin Miller noted that all three
speeches were "inherently weird". Finally, recognition! And inherent recognition, at
that!
Interruption: for some strange reason, it occurred to me, right now, right here, that
Pat Bonner-Turner, my boss at the Boston YWCA 1985-88, pronounced the word
"adhere" as "adair". Talk about adairing to strange standards.
So my arrival home after the shindiggage was ten minutes in advance of Beff's from
Maine. And the next day we did our usual Friday stuff, which includes lunch at the
Cast Iron Kitchen, and a bit of walking around, etc. Beforehand was a trip to Trader
Joe's and Staples and Ace Hardware (the last for plywood for the Maine step). And
dinner was pesto pasta, so there. Saturday was a big shopping day, for on Sunday we
were to host the beginning of year pot luck, and I was making pizza (as I always
dew), and of course there was much lawn mowage. And dinner was swordfish
puttanesca, and what it is, too. And, oh yeah, we did a bike rider through the nature

preserve, so there.
On Sunday, I began the pizzamakage at about 8:30 and finished the first draft at
about 10:45 -- the second draft being the reheating later. At 12:30 I did the ice trip
(the trip for ice), and we set up -- including bringing card tables and folding chairs
from the attic. Seems the last time we used the folding chairs and card tables was
the last time we had a pot luck, three years ago. Not that there's anything wrong with
that. And at 2:05 guests started arriving -- including a double shot of Jared (Field and
Redmond), whoa! The festivities went till six, then there was cleanup. And besides
reheating the already-constructed pizzas, I made the pizza primavera, at Beff's
behest, for the first time in seven or eight years -- a crust with no sauce or cheese,
but with olive oila dn artichokes and (heirloom) tomatoes and green peppers and
arugula and Italian lettuce. Basically, focaccia (which means -- what, fo' hunting?).
Yesterday was Labor Day, and was kind of coooool out. Beff and I took the West Acton
bike ride, I made (heirloom) tomato sandwiches for lunch, and back to Maine for
another ten-day stint went Beff. THIS time, though, I will join her for part of it. We
decided I'd drive up after I was done at the 'deis (people at the 'deis sometimes call it
"The 'deis", and I'm not one of them), see and eat with friends in Bangor, and I'd
come back Saturday morning, thus leaving the cats in the lurch (it's a special room in
our house, or maybe not) for about 52 hours. So trippage is coming, and it will be the
first time in the great state of Maine for this new car. Which reminds me.
We got our insurance settlement check for the old, totalled Toyota, and I had to drive
to Webster to get it, while exchanging it for the old car's title. There was a $500
deductible taken out, which is not assessed when the accident isn't my fault, and the
insurance agent said they still hadn't gotten the Yonkers Police report, so they
couldn't assess fault. And they said they might never get it. Quickly thinking, I told
them we'd heard from the offending driver's insurance company, and d'oh! of course
they'd be interested in knowing that sort of detail. Including, presumably, hitting up
the offending driver's insurance company for the settlement cost. Two days later, a
check for $500 arrived with the terse memo "deductible release". So, that book is
closed.
IN THE MEANTIME, and taking up much of the previous reporting period, the physical
CDs of Toods Volume 3 arrived at Bridge, and I got a buttload of them (I compared
them to my butt, and there was enough similarity to use the word "load"). Perhaps
you could say there are enough of them to shake a stick at, and I tried shaking a stick
at them, and not much happened. Plenty of time was spent sending out free copies
to people that got free copies, and that happened on several days. Meanwhile, the
album was available for download from iTunes as of Friday, August 28, and
amazon.com at one point said "Only 1 copy left ... order now to receive by tomorrow".
Currently amazon says "available for pre-order, will be released October 13". So one's
got to say -- "huh?" Or with today's theme, "Huhage?" In any case, you can download
it, you can pre-order it. Just don't call it late for dinner. The CD is really nice, the
performances great, and Hayes's notes spandiferous, in case you were wondering.
Because I would like to eat food of my choice when I'm in Maine (I always go for the
longest possible sentence-beginning dependent clauses), I decided, somewhat last
minutely, to take my scheduled blood test TODAY instead of in a week. Hence I've
fasted (I sure haven't slowed, at all, but you know, I see some wrinkles here and
there...) since 6 last night, and will see skin-piercing sharpness in my arm around
noon today. Followed by driving on Route 9, always a huge treat. Then tomorrow, it's
leading tone seventh chords (yawn) in theory, and, and ... Geoffy gets here before
the next update, so at that time I'll probably write, in this space, "Geoffy is here".

And I have to start thinking of a keynote speech to give at the Festival of New
American Music in Sacramento, because, you see, I have to give it. I should go to
Pennsylvania to write it -- that is, if they re-nickname themselves "The Keynote
State". Rim shot. And now that I think of it ... time to book the plane tickets, too.
Today's pictures are exclusively from pot luck day, and are easy to bunch: five shots
showing some of the pizzamachen process, and three of the pot luck. Bye.
SEPTEMBER 22 Breakfast this morning is microwave French toast from Trader Joe's,
orange juice and coffee. Dinner last was half a plain chicken sub from Subway. Lunch
was a small turkey sandwich from South Street Cafe. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE
LAST UPDATE 38.7 and 77.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First
movement of the third Brandenburg. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE new
dryer $421 with delivery, iPod nano with video and AppleCare $221, bass melodica
$215 including shipping, plane tickets to Sacramento $310. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Cast Iron Kitchen, for the free pistachios when we
don't order dessert. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Best Buy, whose price on the dryer we purchased doesn't include the power cord, 20
bucks extra. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Back when we lived in Spencer,
we did frequent lake-walking during the winter months. On the lake, that is, after it
had frozen. Jeff Nichols visited once and said his lake-walk was extremely relaxing,
and I know what he meant. One winter, it got cold very fast, and the lake froze
without snow on top, making some cool blackish ice on which to walk -- which led to a
nice game of being pulled on the ice by Lucas, the local Chesapeake Bay retriever -as in, he pulled the stick I was grasping. We haven't lake-walked since about 2001 or
early 2002, when Beff and I and David Horne did so on Walden Pond. Yes, THE Walden
Pond. But then again, I guess that would be pond-walking. As would our Spencer
walking, on Thompson Pond. D'oh. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE
CAT THINGS TO REPORT: A little bit of projectile shedding from Cammy at his yearly
checkup, Sunny's surprisingly frequent vocalisms. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK:
This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: zicht, meaning obscure, but
it appears to be a combination of zipper and echt. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I obsessively pull grass from sidewalk cracks on
occasion. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: free harps
and harp lessons for anyone with a double vowel in either name. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,928. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.44 in Maynard
with Shaw's dime discount. I WOULD NOT SAY SUCH THINGS IF I WERE YOU my head,
ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
Today is Beff's birfday! And the left digit turns over for the first time in ten years
(EXACTLY ten years!), making her eligible for what I'm doing Friday. MWA ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. But I digress. True to form, Beff and I spend her
birthday 250 miles apart, which means no Buffalo wings, which I wouldn't eat this
week anyway. On my own left-digit-turning birfday, my lovely sister sent me a whole
bunch of memorabilia "celebrating" the number, including a t-shirt I don't wear and a
coffee mug we do occasionally use. In my sister's case, that particular left-digitturning was quite a few years ago, and now she is closer to another one of those than
I am. Does it seem like I'm speaking in code? I probably should, because it's code
outside. Which means you need a special key. I'll just sit over here now.
The teaching season is in full swing, and I'm finally starting to transcend the stupid
textbook for Theory 2 that was thrust upon me (figuratively) -- cool thing being that
next Wednesday it's finally away from vocabulary-learning to piece-listening, and

that's way more fun. Flat-6 5 1 will be the operating metaphor that day. But I am
being opaque -- as opposed to my usual seethroughness. I have finally learned all the
names of the students in the course, which for me is an accomplishment given that
most of them haven't had a class with me before, and it's a class exactly fifty percent
larger than the one I taught last year. And that means the grading part of teaching
that class is a significantly larger portion of my non-teaching time. I look forward (or
perhaps backward) to when the entire class uses 6/4's correctly. However, yesterday,
they did successfully yell happy birthday at Beff in the general direction of my videocapable iPod nano.
Beff's teaching season is pretty full, too -- full enough that I spent 52 hours of this
reporting period trippin' it to the place in Maine (including the 8 hours of driving). The
point here was, of course, to see her colleagues for that one trip per year I get to do,
and to have food that is excessively bad for me. Well, not entirely -- Woodman's
wings, they call them, at Woodmans in Orono, and the teri tuna sandwich at the Sea
Dog in Bangor. I note here without the slightest irony that said teri tuna sandwich is
about 170 percent the cost of the same sandwich about eight years ago. Now I will
ponder what it would mean to note that WITH irony. That's long enough. So after my
teaching on Thursday of that week, off I drove, there I got, and to Woodmans (not
Woodmen, saw Chip, Charlie) we went. On Friday I went into the office to see Bella,
Chip's new shy dog, then to Tar-Zhay (which is gigantic in Bangor, and also
surrounded by dead stores) for some very important staples -- including, for the first
time in two years, a proper nice salt shaker. Yes, on certain days of the week I am
easy to please. Then I got some expensive stuff at State Street Wine, pizza at
Gambino Pizza (love that name), and went out with Beff to the Sea Dog (Jack, Liz,
Denny). And at the crack of dawn (colonoscopy jokes begin HERE) I up and drove
back to Maynard. And thankfully, the cats still remembered me.
Meanwhile, after reading about the new iPod nano with video, voice recording, and
FM radio, I slipped in my own drool. In order to keep that from happening again, I up
and got a blue one, which arrived last Wednesday. Every photo in today's update is,
indeed, a still capture (or still crazy, after all these years) from an iPod nano movie. In
order to get DRAMATIC stills (etcetera), some of my first videos were of the cats
jumping onto the bathroom window from outside when I uttered (loudly) the magic
word ("treats!"). I was having some problems with it, though -- the FM kept saying
there was no reception even though there are plenty of nearby stations, and the
sound coming through the headphones sucked and didn't turn off the sound that
came from the iPod's internal speaker. Incidentally -- the iPod has an internal speaker.
So after some unsuccessful futzing (or is that spelled phutzing?), I called Apple to
arrange service or exchange, and they advised I reinstall the iPod system software,
and then take it to the Natick Collection Apple Store (say that five times fast. Now
stop). So that I did, and somehow -- it seemed either the rebuild worked, or I finally
got the headphones in all the way, and -- golden. My iPod works. So there. The only
odd thing is that the camera/microphone is right in back of the click wheel, which
makes it easy to get my thumb or finger in the movie, which I have done often. Right
Reorge.
On the melodica front (did you know there was a melodica front?), I was proferred a
YouTube link to a crazy-ass movie of the first movement of the Brandenburg 3 played
on melodicas, including bass melodicas -- somebody with a proliferation of time to
kill. I hadn't yet gotten my impulse instrument(s) for the year, and I've already got a
Flex-a-tone and two vibraslaps, and a ratchet, and a bird call, and a train whistle, and
a bell tree, etc., so I looked up bass melodicas on line, and there they were -- at
melodicas dot com. Yesterday I ordered one. It will be funny.

Meanwhile this weekend Beff 'n' Geoff were around (Geoffy is here till Saturday
morning), and that included a nice meal at the Cast Iron Kitchen (in addition to our
usual Friday lunch there), and hanging much laundry outside to dry. This is because
our dryer, which still has hot air, stopped spinning. And besides, it's getting rusty,
and we traced its history back to July 2000 when we purchased this house. This
precipitated an emergency trip to Best Buy, which is a no-fun drive, and took a walk
through the dryer aisle. People can spend $700 on a dryer, peoples, which is just
wrong. We selected a Whirlpool, got the sales guy who obviously wanted to be doing
anything else but be at work that day, found out that the cost on the tag doesn't
include a way to plug the sucker in, and scheduled a delivery. It is scheduled for
between 11:30 and 1:30 today, and I disconnected the old one and finally got rid of
all the old dryer lint (note to self: don't do again while wearing bathrobe). We will see
if drying clothes is back in our retinue. We will see. We will see. We will. We.
And now I am eating mostly bland stuff without skins or seeds. For you see, on Friday
at 12:15 I submit to the ... tube. I have my first colonoscopy ever (oh for it to be the
last), and Beff is my "accompanying adult". I've got a long list of do-eats and don'teats and I am mostly playing it safe. Onions and peppers -- good. They're all I had for
dinner on Sunday. Bread with grain -- bad. Most soups -- uh uh. I look forward to
Saturday's buffalo wings. BOY do I look forward to Saturday's buffalo wings. I also
have plenty of Gatorade, recommended for the fasting day. And magnesium citrate is
the system restart beverage of choice.
I am going to Sacramento in five or six weeks. Woo hoo. I have to write a keynote
speech. Woo hoo. I bought my tickets for that trip, and I am flying United. Woo hoo.
And Etudes Volume Three is now officially released by Bridge Records. See it on their
site, silly. Did you know my musical world was occasionally "loony"? It's official -- it's
right there on the interwebs.
All of today's pictures are stills from iPod nano videos. The first six are selfexplanatory. Then there are some of the taps at the Cast Iron Kitchen, and Beff as
viewed on Skype as we sing the second theme of the first movement of the
Tchakovsky Sixth together. Bye.
OCTOBER 5 Breakfast was a whole wheat bagel with reduced fat cream cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
Dinner was a garden burger and salad. Lunch was a whole wheat bagel and some Pickle Guys hot pickles.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.6 and 80.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY
HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Pat Benatar's "We Belong" LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE new
photocopier all-in-one with wi-fi and duplexing, $526; air mail postage to the UK, $29.68. COMPANIES
THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Best Buy, for insisting we buy a dryer hookup
we knew we didn't need, saying the delivery person would take it back if it wasn't necessary, and that was
not true -- thus an otherwise unnecessary half-hour drive to return it. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Whole Foods, for giving me a free bowl of edamame beans when
the price scanned 2 cents off. PET PEEVE drivers who veer right before turning left, thus making it
impossible to go around them. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I seem to have taught myself
ear-training when I was about 15 and at a summer camp. During idle hours I conceptually mapped the notes
of the camp songs onto a virtual keyboard, eventually also figuring out what chords would work with the
tunes. Several weeks in, I was able to get to a piano and discover I was right. Strangely enough, that's my
entire experience with ear training -- when I got to NEC I took the advanced placement exams and was
excused from two years of ear training. The advanced placement test even required me to play the bass line
of a simple chorale while singing, by arpeggiating, the successive harmonies. Dunno if I could still do that
now. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now
Cammy likes to look outside by the pump organ, and Sunny still likes to hang out by the catnip patch.
UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 4, performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP

WORD: triskette, a whole-grain cracker you have to eat thirteen of at a time. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T
READ ANYWHERE ELSE I took one organ lesson in high school, for which I even had to buy special
shoes. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Fair and Balanced
actually means fair and balanced. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,943. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.44 in Maynard. SAY THIS FIVE TIMES FAST. THEN STOP my head,
ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
We used to belong. Now we be short. Without the stunningness of delivery, the refrigeration had to sit by
itself and scoff. Toodling became the preferred means of fibrous discharge, and our heads became rounder
with each passing quarter note. Stopping to make fudge, I once told myself I would never surround pink
lemonade with a prime number, but they told me I had to cut it out. So deliciousness took a back seat to the
place I once had tree bark. Then it snowed.
This update is one day early because today is a Brandeis holiday -- Sukkot. This year it seems we don't
Shmini Atzeret off as well, which would be next Monday, I guess -- which is too bad. It also being
Columbus Day and a day on which Beff will be here because SHE has it off, it would have been the second
time in fifteen years at Brandeis that we both had Columbus Day off. The other was nearly a decade ago, it
was Yom Kippur, and we did a little vacationlet in a very cold part of upstate New York, as well as the
Mass Moca. Having a vacationlet means, for all intents and purposes, a five-day weekend for me, and this
is its fourth day. I have taken full advantage of the time off to do some writing for the first time since
August 17, and it's four-cello music. I am 52 bars into a movement that I thought would be shorter (an
ironic turn of phrase based on what's coming up in this update), and it seems to be about fast deedling (what
Davy piece isn't?) and agressive staggered unison entrances (what Davy piece ... is?). In any case, it seems
I'm at a seam in the music, hence my pause today instead of tomorrow for said update. Fascinating.
Unsurprisingly, and accurately predicted in the last update, I had a colonoscopy. My first ever. It's really a
quick procedure, but with an extended dominant pedal that reminds me of the eight years it took me to get
my dissertation done compared to the hour and forty-five minute defense in front of people who mostly
hadn't read the paper and who blithely advertised their burning desire to be elsewhere. So the dominant
pedal was initiated with dietary strictures at the five-, three- and one-day marks. Five days of not having
any soups except broths, of not having raw vegetables or any vegetables with skins or seeds (such as
tomatoes), of not having any citrus, of not having orange juice with pulp, and of not having any bread with
grain in it. At the three-day mark, painkillers were restricted to Tylenol-type stuff. And the one-day mark
was a fast with only clear liquids allowed -- though "Gatorade preferred" was marked. Thus I went and got
Gatorade at Shaws, and they only had orange or yellow-green. Geoffy, meanwhile, clued me into the fact
that clear Gatorade existed, and on the fast day I got some at the Hannaford in Waltham. And boy does
clear Gatorade suck big ones.
Geoffy was around for Musica Viva, so we did a couple of meals -- including one at the Blue Coyote where
I had a bland chicken sandwich on white bread, and fries -- though I ate around anything that looked like
skin. And that dinner marked my last real food of the week.
Then after my Thursday teaching and department meeting, I got home and drank 15 ounces of magnesium
citrate, designed to facilitate, nay, necessitate, bowel movements of unusual frequency (BMOUF) -- in
preparation for the insertion of a tube with a camera on it. The next morning, six hours before the
appointment, I drank 15 ounces more. And, me being me, I counted the magnesium citrate's efficacy, and it
was 26 trips. And at an appointed time, Beff and I drove to the Harvard Vanguard spettacolo near Kenmore
Square and waited to be, um, served. At my time, I was called, given a nurse who re-asked all the questions
on a form I had already signed and submitted, and she wrote them onto yet another different form (I guess
they wanted to see if my answers matched) -- and made sure I knew that I could possibly die or get brain
damage (while oddly developing a more palpable appreciation of the visual arts), gave me a robe, botched
the IV insertion into my wrist so that she had to put the IV on the bend in my elbow instead, and wheeled
me into the procedure room. Now the nurse and the doctor-types both had what would be weird questions
in polite company, but expected, given that they were going to be tubing my butt. My answer to the
question of the color of my last "discharge" was met with enthusiasm not unlike a small child jumping up

and down and clapping, and I suppose I was supposed to feel proud. As in, my "discharge" is clearer-thanthou.
Whatever sedative I was given for the procedure was very mild, and I was awake the whole time. Indeed, if
I were so inclined, I could have watched the show on the monitor right in front of me, but I decided not to.
The nurse let me know that air is blown into the colon to expand it to get a better view of the inside, and of
course it would be coming out the way it came in -- in her parlance, "you'll be tooting." So yes, while the
procedure was going on, the feeling was of strange tooty indigestion, and after it was done, it took another
15 or 20 minutes of tooting to be finished. One toot that happened while I was being wheeled into the
recovery area also prompted the jumping up and down and clapping kind of response (tootier than thou) I
hadn't expected. And of course, the recovery room had six people in it whose colonoscopies were all
finished around the same time. So in unison, insert joke about durn tootin' here. O frabjous day!
I was given voluminous paperwork with advice, etc. -- no bedside manner here, no sir, just read the
paperwork. Of course there had been a degree of difficulty added to my particular procedure due to the
necessary negotiations around the still-inserted buttstix. But the tube is both a camera and a snipper, so
three small polyps were removed, and my paperwork included a note that, depending on the biopsies, my
next such procedure would be in 5 years or in 10. I can hardly wait. The directives were classic: no alcohol
the rest of the day though normal eating can resume; do not make important decisions, and do not sign any
contracts. And no painkillers except Tylenol for 10 days. Today is that tenth day. I wonder how I'll
celebrate. Oh yes, and because of the diverticulitis I have (read this space about a year ago), a higher fiber
diet is strongly recommended. I bought Citrucel. And apples. And rejoiced at the fiber amount of the
edamame beans already in the house.
So, having had nothing but bland food for five days, I immediately made myself a plate of strong-flavor
pickles, made some Buffalo wing sauce, and dipped some bread in it. And we ordered pizza delivery. The
next morning, Beff was off before lunch, after a little bike ride.
Meanwhile, the teaching has gotten to the let's-look-at-some-actual-music point, and I got to deliver my
classic lecture -- that is, my SOON TO BE CLASSIC lecture -- on songs 1 & 12 of Dichterliebe,
accompanied by the customary looks of abject horror on the students' faces when I told them they'd be
writing papers on this music. There will still be some trips to the textbook for lectures on the weird chords,
which are all that's left (dominant ninths, added sixths, augmented sixths that resolve differently, etc.), but
mostly it's about the music now. And of course, we will chop up the textbook at the end of the term. And
the private students -- Monday people meet on Wednesday, and Wednesday people get nothing, nothing,
nothing.
This weekend was Maynardfest or Maynard Octoberfest or something like that, though with the torrential
rains on Saturday, most of the downtown activities on Saturday were cancelled. On the other hand,
yesterday was beautifully sunny and warm in the afternoon, so the thing where they block off a portion of
the parking lot at Clock Tower Place, have beer and food stands, and have a lame-ass band playing
happened on schedule. See the pinkish "Maynardfest" link up there for a brief bit of the Fumo Sull'Acqua
(Fuoco nel cielo) performance by said band. It was at the very beginning of the festivities, hence the sparse
attendance. Later, in the dark, there were fireworks (fuochi d'artifici), the sound of which scared the cats.
And on Friday, after I had done my writing for the day, Rick Beaudoin came over for a late lunch (2:45),
and of course we went to the Cast Iron Kitchen. He had said he would bring a gift of beer, but instead he
brought a book by Frank Zappa, probably because both names have five letters. Rick had the ziti, which
amazed and delighted. We took a peek into the River Rock Grill, which has taken over the space formerly
known as the Sit 'n' Bull, and so far it looks as Beff has described it -- upscale sports bar. No menu is online
or on the restaurant door, so no report yet. But you will, Oscar, you will.
Among other non-interesting things, I now mow smaller and smaller lawn portions as the leaf-falling
season begins. Plus, plenty of yard-mushrooms are taking up their customary space. When I'm doing the
outdoor stuff, I occasionally see the little terrier from next door named Lily, who is scared of people but
who craves the dog bones she knows I have access to. While snipping branches and clearing up various

space for the future fallen leaves, I managed to bring some bees inside on my shirt, but all was resolved to
my satisfaction. ... The people in Sacramento in charge of the festival where I am to speechify seem not to
communicate much with each other, since I got several separate requests for headshots and the title of my
speech (currently "Plus ca change", with the cedilla where it belongs), but there is as yet no speech. And in
sad news, the dog at Maynard Door and Window was run over.
I also spent some time collecting sour candy to send to Martler in England. The last piece of the puzzle was
"Shockers", formerly known as Shock Tarts, which I had not seen anywhere around here. So Beff suggested
I just get them on amazon. So I did. 24 rolls, just to send 2 to Martler. I'll be disposing of the others in
original and thought-provoking ways. The box of sour candy went out for $29.68 on Monday, and was
delivered to Martler on Saturday. So there.
Meanwhile, our 5-year-old photocopier has been sucking. The regular paper feed no longer works, and the
platen is scratched. Beff authorized the purchase of a new one as an early Christmas present -- to both of us
and from both of us -- and soon I'll be offering the old one to whomever wants it. Not yet, though.
So two more days of four-cello writing, plus grading a bunch of theory papers, and back to the grind. As to
Beff, she was in North Carolina for a music chairs' kind of pow-wow (spelled upside down is mom-mod),
so I was on my own this weekend. This coming weekend, she'll be here an extra day thanks to Columbus
Day. And starting this week, the roof on the Bangor house gets replaced. Which means a big dumpster in
the driveway until further notice.
This week's pictures begin with the only picture I took on the grounds from the Tanglewood trip in August,
about which I had forgotten. Because it was on my cell phone -- it's Gusty with 2 people from the
Philadelphia Experience near Ozawa Hall, with Sam Solomon and Judd Greenstein off in the distance.
Then we have Rick B at the Cast Iron Kitchen (taken from iPod), cat picture, cat picture, cat picture,
Cammy's tail as a design element, and two pics of Lily, the local terrier, taking a dog bone and then zipping
right away with it. Bye.
OCTOBER 20 Breakfast was a whole wheat mini-bagel, orange juice and coffee.
Dinner was microwave ravioli. Lunch was a sub from the sub shop down the hill.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 29.3 and 67.2. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love" LARGE EXPENSES
SINCE LAST UPDATE two Ionic air cleaners, $296 including tax and Staples rewards
discounts; topsoil $6; lunch at Betty's Wok and Noodles, $60. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Sound Electra -- so far -- for not yet sending
bass melodica ordered and paid for a month ago; and the Blue Coyote restaurant for
overcooking the ribs I had there. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY Bridge Records, for the record speed with which they send things I order, and
even before receiving payment. PET PEEVE drivers that tailgate early in the morning.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: We had a back yard bordered by the
raspberry and blueberry patches (apparently Dad transferred them from a nearby
field at some point, and transferred means stole) and yet another yard in back of the
berry patches. Which, when I was growing up, we frequently used for little wiffle ball,
baseball, or football games. The yard was somewhat narrow, so you had to hit it
straight or maneuver through thickets or poison ivy to retrieve it. And hitting it past
the apple and pear trees was a home run. I remember playing football, Dick McKeown
taking a pass, and the aggressive tackle I made to bring him down from behind. And,
finally -- at my 10th birthday party, we played pickle in that yard. I forget the rules for
that, but apparently it had two bases and you were supposed to run from one to the
other without getting tagged. Fascinating. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK:
0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy loves the box that contained the fire logs,
and we can't burn it because of that. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Reviews 5 added, Performances, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: triskadiddle, a
thirteen-stroke rudiment for snare drum. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL

LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE Since the gout, I crack my right big toe a lot. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: A whole year's worth of Nobel Prizes that
don't make you go WTF. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 043. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.47 in Maynard. THINGS TO THINK ABOUT my head, ladybugs,
a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
So much has happened this last two weeks on a red wheelbarrow glazed with rain
water beside the white chickens. Lawn mowing season came to a crashing end, and
the 09-10 snow innocence phenomenon has also come to a crashing halt. Indeed,
one loves to talk about what weird weather swings have happened recently (an NECN
Them What Make guy commented "I'm sure this isn't the first time it's happened, but
we're still checking the record books"). Today should be mild and sunny, but twice it
has snowed, and that's unusual for so early in the season.
The teaching phenomenon continues on apace (what does "on apace" mean,
anyway? Am I "on apace" to break a record?). A weird Schubert Moment Musical got
its airing out in theory, and we listened to and compared both Schumann's and
Brahms's setting of Mondnacht, ending in a vote for which is better. In this year's
version of that, the reasoning was pretty heated -- it wasn't enough to prefer one
over the other. Some students felt the need to pulverize the arguments made for the
other side. And it was pretty cool. Cool enough for some students to ask for similar
exercises in class for the future. We will, Oscar, we will. Yesterday was chromatic
chord kitchen sink day -- dominant thirteenth, common tone diminished sevenths,
etc. -- and I got to use the SNL Lawrence Welk parody as well as the video of Mariah
Carey's "Vision of Love" because of its fast-and-looseness with augmented triads.
Hey, the YooToobs is pretty useful for stuff like that.
Typically, as is always the case except the one time it wasn't, Beff had Columbus Day
off and the equivalent of a five-day weekend (Friday to Tuesday), which meant she
was around a lot, and we got to do married couple stuff together. We may have even
held hands at one point, dunno. Of course, Brandeis doesn't take Columbus Day off,
partly because of all the Jewish holidays they take off and partly because it's a
convenient day to hold an Open House for prospective students, all of whom have
Columbus Day off and who are thus available. I played a major part in said Open
House, as the guy, with Bob Nieske, representing music at the Big Table in the
Gosman Gym. Which meant I answered lots of the same questions we get every year
(#1 and with a bullet: "what if I don't want to MAJOR in music"? #2 and sinking fast:
"my son/daughter is SO TALENTED") Though this year there were more onlookers who
expressed a desire to do composition (which Marty Boykan had remarked was always
the case in a down economy).
So since Beff was around for such a long time, we sampled the local restaurants, we
did. Yes, we really did. And the River Rock Grill, which opened in the place of the old
Sit-N-Bull (which, apparently, found out much too late what the consequences were
for not paying bills), was on our list. On that Tuesday the 6th, I tried it out for lunch
and had a steak and eggy sandwich thing with a Uruguayan pedigree (or so claimed
the menu). It was okay. And on that Saturday, we up and went out to it, had wine with
dinner, and had -- very underwhelming fare. So it's off our list, and the Cast Iron
Kitchen retained its #1 with a bullet spot. And we did go there for our traditional
Friday lunch. But not last week, for reasons that may or may not be clear eventually.
MWA ha ha. As for other dinners -- I made salmon, which always seems to fall apart
on our grill, but which tasted as yummified as ever. And there were chicken
sandwiches. And, and, and ...

Meanwhile, Gusty Thomas was in town for her BSO premiere and she had agreed to
come to Brandeis to give a talk gratis. She also got some great comps for us for the
blue-haired Friday afternoon performance -- which explains why no Cast Iron Kitchen.
So the talk was spandiferous, as usual, with some nice back and forth. Eric Chasalow
had gone to a dress rehearsal, so he could comment on her piece -- Helios Choros II,
the middle part of a large 40-minute piece (I and III are the other parts, duh). And
there was pretty spectacular attendance (Menachem Zur talked the previous week,
and it was good, but less filled to capacity).
So then for the Friday of the comp tickets show, Beff first had to go to an
appointment with her mouth and gums fixer upper guy, and she got back in plenty of
time for us to drive to West Concord to take a commuter rail. Last time I took the
11:07 from West Concord was for a BMOP rehearsal, and it was filled to capacity for a
World Series game -- figure out what year that was -- and it was free. This time,
though, there was "ample parking day and night" (though it now costs $4 instead of
$2 -- thank you, banks that cause the global meltdown), and the trip was easy. We
got to Symphony in plenty of time for lunch at Betty's Wok and Noodle (formerly
Ann's Restaurant, where in 1978 the #1 special for 99 cents was a cheeseburger and
fries). [name drop alert] As we were finishing up, Mikey Gandolfi and John Harbison
came into the restaurant, we waved, and went to the show. The hall was two-thirds
full, and the conductor was spectacularly underwhelming for Martinu and Stravinsky.
Gusty's piece opened the second half, and it could have used more rehearsal, but it
was sparkly and colorful, and in-the-middle music -- which is what it is. I particularly
liked the farty low brass stuff, but that's just me. Tchaikovsky finished the program,
during which Beff and I chatted with Gusty in the hall, and then it was time to come
back. For you see, it was Clarinet Day weekend.
On Saturday of Clarinet day weekend, we did our academic stuff, which for me
included reading 17 papers on Dichterliebe (this year's crop was, on average, better
than last year's), as well as the yearly hosta mow -- our front sidewalk scrawny flower
big plant plants, and we dug two of them out and discarded them -- requiring a
wheelbarrow (beside the white chickens), a shovel, and topsoil to fill the holes left
behing. Late afternoon famously featured Beff picking up two of her students who
had taken a bus from Bangor to Boston and were staying with us that night. For you
see, CLARINET DAY, arranged by Michael Norsworthy, was happening at BoCo. We
took the students out to the Blue Coyote, who gave me overcooked (burned!) ribs,
but at least the portions were gigantic. And on Sunday, the appointed day, there was
a Northeaster forecasted to soak us with plenty of rain, which it did. At first. Beff and
students left the house at 7:15 am (breakfast started at 6:15, which on a Sunday is
just...wrong) and I had time a) to finish reading the Dichterliebe papers and b) finish
the 4-cello movement and thus c) start entering the piece into the computer. The
pouring rain happened at the appointed time, and -- completely to the surprise of
Them What Make -- snow started mixing in, and even accumulating a little bit. Which,
of course, made Beff's drive back to Maine after Clarinet Day a rather long one (she
says she got something like a blister on one of her hands from gripping the steering
wheel). Meanwhile, I had a dinner with Gusty at the monmentally delicious Chang
Sho Restaurant in Cambridge. Well, the FOOD there is delicious. I haven't tasted the
restaurant itself. Anyone who has, call me, and I'll update this space.
So of course it was looking sloppy out there, and the Them What Make webpages
were still saying Lots of Rain, Mwa Ha Ha, and similar things -- then suddenly the
Special Weather Statement. "Uh, up we screwed. There's like, some snow out there,
who knew? The roads could be slippery, maybe, 'cause, like you know, it's frozen, you
know?" So I briefly considered doing a commuter rail, but then did some sideways
thinking (I don't know what that is either). I drove in to Alewife anyway, and other

than the splishy-splashies, the roads were not bad. I tooled around Hahvahd Square a
few minutes, got a yodeling pickle for Mark Kagan, and the dinner, including two
Pinot Grigii each, happened as scheduled. It was tasty, Gusty got the steamed tofu,
and it was an intense conversation. Did I mention the Pinot Grigii? By the time we
finished, snow was accumulating on the sidewalks in Cambridge (che stupido).
Nonetheless -- the drive back to Maynard was uneventful save for the splishysplashies, and the car thermometer said it was 2 degrees warmer in Maynard than in
Cambridge. Don't all be beaten by that.
And meanwhile, Hannah at BMOP/sound forwarded a Gramophone review of the
Winged Contraption CD, which had a lovely pull quote for Marilyn's webpage, and
which, ironically, put me into the classification of Composers What Have Arrived
(classifications have atrocious grammar nowadays). Since every significant composer
I know has, at some point, gotten the "I loved everything about this album except the
music" review, and this review is such a review, that puts me into the ... into the ...
um, thesaurus? Pantheon? Box? Reviews 4 on this page up was filled, so Reviews 5
now exists, currently holding only said Pantheon review.
Now even though it's been unusually cold for this time of year -- did I mention SNOW?
-- we set a local pointless record. October 13 was the day we first turned on the heat.
Which is the latest in the season since we've lived in this house.
As to the 4-cello movement. It was clear while I was writing it that it wasn't a freestanding piece -- crap, meaning it needs two other movements of similar dimension -and that is was a finale and not an opening movement. In the process of entering it
into the computer I also started getting the sense that maybe it was closer to sucking
than to not sucking. (is "to not sucking" a split infinitive, or something parallel to it?)
It's between five and six minutes of frightfully hard fast stuff, but I won't really know
until it's all entered whether it's okay as is or whether the rocks it sucks, if it indeed
sucks them, are large. Still, though, I'm using the working title of Cello Shots, and see
the Cello Shots 3 link up there for how it currently stands. And what it is, too. And
also see the "Concord to Lincoln" link for a fascinating, fascinating movie made with
my iPod nano of the view out the commuter rail window as the train moves from (you
guessed it) Concord to Lincoln.
And last beezy work. I had to write program notes for Mikronomicon. So I did.
Trip to California coming up. Contract for residency in Utah coming soon. And I have
to write a speech. Beff gets back Thursday night and has a proper dentist
appointment Friday morning, after which she may get Whole Foods stuff for our
weekend, since it is close to the dentist. And of course our Friday lunch at the Cast
Iron Kitchen is back on.
Today's pictures begin, as they often do, with kitty kuteness -- said firelog box and
how the cats have been using it. Then Sunny sees a bird, extreme closeup of
blossoms on the catnip plants, various fall-type shots, the 4-cello piece on the piano
with a pretty awful transfer to a smaller size, and Gusty along with the Brandeis
composition students. Bye.
OCTOBER 31 Breakfast was a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, orange juice,
and coffee. Dinner was grilled chicken with mushrooms and steamed asparagus.
Lunch was, at the Cast Iron Kitchen, fried artichokes, arugula salad, and fettuccini
Alfredo. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 33.1 and 70.9. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Chicago's "Harry Truman". LARGE EXPENSES
SINCE LAST UPDATE portable Garmin GPS $159, part II of Bangor roof repair, $3800

oil change at Jeefy Loob $33, Beff's new clarinet bell $300. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY well, maybe Jeefy Loob -- since the oil change
Tuesday, when I start the car the "MAINT REQD" light blinks exactly eight times when
I start the car up. And K-Mart, for selling me a rake whose two parts had not been
joined. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY the gas station near
K-Mart -- who sells firewood bundles for two thirds the price anywhere else. PET
PEEVE leaves and pine needles that fall onto areas already raked. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I was in two acts for Spring Frolics my junior year of high
school. I reported here once that we put together a band to perform Chicago's "Harry
Truman" while it was still on the charts -- I played trombone, took the tune off the
radio, and did the arrangement, all the while wincing every time Bobby Chevalier, the
pianist, played the wrong chord. I also played blues piano (in C, of course)
blindfolded, with Bob Choiniere, who also played blues in C, blindfolded. On the
program, it was only me listed as the pianist, so it must have been a surprise after
the introduction to see two of us. We made it through just fine. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now the cats love to
look out the open window by the pump organ. And yesterday Sunny bounded and
leaped all around the back yard, including running up and down trees, as Beff and I
raked. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: tilaginous, describing a jelly-like food shaped like a fish but which
tastes like tofu. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST TWO WEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE my longest
burp was 1974, while drinking Fresca, timed at 19 seconds. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Northeastern winters that return to the late
80s and early 90s. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 103. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.57 in Maynard. THE LIST I MADE BUT FORGOT WHY my head,
ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
Trains were in the back of the tub when we had to put the elastic bands back on and
watch them fly north. It wasn't that our wagons had lost any of their wheels, and
neither did we think we had to put goo into the granite headstones that had been
interrupted by magic -- but it did make us lose a little bit of time, and the feathers
were telling us to get lost. Over in Cheepsterville, everybody was waking the dogs up
and taking silly putty to them. But that eventually faded into the internet.
I type this to you, dear reader, on Halloween while Weather Bug on this computer
chirps a High Wind Warning at me. Them what make are right this time, as all those
nicely raked, bare areas are slowly getting recovered with the just-fallen leaves -- I've
been finding out that it is very hard to rake leaves that are still affixed to trees.
Nonetheless, we have tons of leaves around us, there are always lots to get rid of,
and we have to start earlier than usual this year because we'll lose about 10 raking
days to nobody being here. More on that later. First I'm sure you'll want to read all of
the tedious prose, soon to follow, about the start of leaf-raking season. And other
things.
Last weekend and this one, Beff's time in Maynard has been cut short by various
things back in Maine to which she is obligated to show up. In fact, as I type this, three
days early, and on a Saturday morning, Beff is already on her way back to Maine,
with the cats. Today's obligation: view the pep band (or whatever they call it) at a U
Maine football game. Lordy. Meanwhile, this fine windy Halloween day brings me into
Brandeis for the first composers concert of the year. I had heard some of the
rehearsals while I was in this week, and all sounds good.
So exactly three weeks ago I took out a rake for the first time and raked up some
pine needles near our new yard area. I took out a barrel to bring them to our discard

area, and that was a half-barrel's worth. Two weeks later minus one, Beff and I started
the raking season officially. Luckily for us, the three big maples that line the driveway
and the two in the front yard go bare before almost all the other trees around here,
so we can start in on those areas and be reasonably finished before moving onto the
other many-yarded area. So with several days of raking in tandem, and with me
doing some on the non-Brandeis days, we have just about finished the front yard and
the side of the driveway, and we have done first passes in the area around the
garage. Total so far: 56 barrels. Total raked last year: 116 barrels. Next raking day:
November 13. Yow. And by the way -- my back kind of hurts.
Meanwhile, I think I may have reported here that I finished entering a movement of a
four-cello piece, and that it may suck, or not. Still no definitive answer on that one,
but tuned you should stay. There has not been any new creative attemptingness (see
raking, previous paragraph), and I have had to start work on a speech. For you see,
on Tuesday I up and drive to the airport in the dark, board a plane in the dark,
deboard a plane in the light, board a plane in the light and deboard a plane in the
light. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And the last time I deboard I will be
in or near Sacramento and looking for the Avis car rental counter. Then on
Wednesday I do a colloquium of sorts at UC Berkeley, and on Thursday I give said
keynote speech for the Festival of New American Music at Sacramento State, hang
out for the gala concert that night, and hang out for Marilyn Nonken's concert the
following Monday. Then the next day I board a plane in the dark, etc. The Sacramento
trip explains some of why I have purchased a pocket Garmin GPS -- I want to be
talked to as I try to find Sam and Laurie's place in Woodland, and CNMAT in Berkeley,
and Sacramento State. My cell phone also has GPS, but I've noticed that when the
program is running it tends to go brain dead for a minute or two at a time at awkward
times. So ...
As to teaching, et al, all is well. In fact, this week verged on the first week that all
eight private composition meetings happened, but it was not to be -- the last one
simply didn't happen, owing to a sleeping through the alarm thing. And I had a
meeting of the Experiential Learning committee to go to (I'm on the Experiential
Learning Committee). And we finally dispensed with the stoopid Aldwell-Schachter
textbook in Theory 2 and are moving on. We talked about humor, bisociation, humor
in music, and specifically Mozart's Musical Joke. Shortly a unit on chorale writing is to
happen, and two of those classes will be taught by my colleague Eric Chafe. I like
when I can find good peoples to fill in for me.
And when I get back from California, not only will I have to continue the teaching of
chorale writing -- I'll also be thrust back into raking, and hopefully with all the raw
material off the trees and onto the ground. One tough thing about this year's raking,
by the way, is the yard behind the garage. The neighbor's oak tree has been very
acorn-fecund this year, and they have to be gathered by hand. They also make the
barrel very, very heavy. So there.
And signs of the winter abound here as -- we brought the bikes into the basement,
the Adirondack chairs into the shed, the picnic table into the basement, and the
chaise lounges from the gazebo into the side porch. My target date for restoring them
to the outdoors is March 15, approximately. The hammock is still set up because of
today's predicted warm temperatures, but will be basemented tomorrow. Soon you
die.
The only other time-consuming thing recently concerns my upcoming sabbatical. One
has to plan far ahead for residencies, etc., and I did the application for one which was
done mostly online, and involved me soliciting some recommendation letters. But the

file size limit for uploads is 7 megs, which means I had to send the musical examples
via escargot mail. And I started checking the application deadlines for the usual
colony suspects, and that means around January 1 for some of them. Lawdy.
See, now that's all, and kind of a dull update to boot. Hopefully it can be rescued by
some nice pictures. Coming up is, of course, California and back. Musica Viva on the
20th. Going to Albany for Thanksgiving. And, of course, raking.
Today's pictures include the big trees in our backyard a week and a half ago, and
yesterday. Next, morning and evening shots of Summer Hill (which we see out our
front door). Next, Great Road, looking west, in the morning. Next, Cammy trying to
keep me from doing my grading. Then, both cats looking out their new favorite
window, and Cammy looking from the side porch. Bye.
NOVEMBER 14 Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches, potato pancakes,
orange juice, and coffee -- and with Geoffy! Dinner last night was salmon aioli,
asparagus, salad, and red wine. Lunch was Shepherd's Pie and fried artichokes at the
Cast Iron Kitchen. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 26.2 and 73.4.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the beginning of the
last movement of Mikronomicon. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Car rental in
California, $397. Parking at Logan Airport, $192. House gift for SamNLaurie
$undisclosed. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Toyota,
for making the "MAINT REQD" light come on every 5,000 miles, as has just happened
on my Corolla. Dudes -- distinguish between necessary and recommended
maintenance, I mean, duh. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Garmin, I guess, which for $159 got me to everywhere I needed to get when in
California -- 'ceptin' it didn't have Arch Street in Berkeley in its database. And
Pyramid Brewery in Berkeleyness, for the lovely wings. PET PEEVE SUVs that park in
spots marked "COMPACT" POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I lived in the NEC
dormitory my freshman year of college, and it was a strange place. People rehearsing
stuff in their rooms, violists getting high and walking around with frozen shit-eating
grins, people practicing in the hallways, etc. My "fanfare for Christmas" for brass
septet which I'd done in high school but was never performed, got an airing in the
cafeteria (Deck the Halls in parallel major triads is, in retrospect, not as funny as it
was then). And now the story can be told (statute of limitations). On a very cold, icy
day, a small window in the bathroom was iced and it would not close. I kicked it
trying to close it, and it shattered. Whistling did I, and left. Later, someone who saw it
said it was obvious by the debris patterns that someone threw something at it from
outside. Whistling did I. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: They're back from Maine, and occasionally strangely vocal. Still
sleeping at the foot of the bed. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: schifaginox, a gelatinous compound used to slow down the
speed of electrical impulses. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE I no longer own any striped socks. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Funk is a five-letter word. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 148.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.97 in California, $2.94 in California, $2.53
in Maynard. THERE'S NO GOLD IN THEM THAR HILLS my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk,
manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
I write this to you on a another dreary Saturday morning -- the Day of Rain, as we are
calling it, until we stop calling it that. Rather than splaining right here, I will sum up: I
went to California and came back. The cats came back. Things back to the median.
And Geoffy is here for most of the next week, except for when he's not.

After that last so-called update, raking did I, and much so, too. Since I was getting as
much done before The Trip as I possibly could. Things went as expected at the 'Deis
on Monday, at which time I introduced the concepts of chorale harmonization
(despite insisting that the original chorale tune is immutable, I predict at least 4
instances in which students change the notes to match their dastardly harmonic
schemes -- plus, I predict several instances where harmonizations plow right through
the fermatas ... for you see, I have done, before, this). Getting back after class was
key, since, well, you know, I had my alarm set for 3 am in order to be plenty on time
for my departing-at-6 flight.
And so. As is almost always the case, I was up before off went the alarm. All was
uneventful, I got into the car and drove airportwards, only to find a confusing sign
about exiting at Copley Square. Crappoliciously, part of the Mass Pike had been
closed for ... for something ... and there was a confusing, mediocrely marked detour
down Stuart Street, et al, with a plethora of options for reentering the highway when
the time came. I chose one, not understanding my fate, and it happened to be the
right one. 4 in the morning is not a good time for driving anxiety, but what choice
was there?
The aiport experiences and the flights were nonevents, mostly. In the second flight -Chicago to Sacramento -- unexplainable, the pilot came on and said, "people on the
left of the plane..." (I was on the right) "... that's Denver below us, and that means
just an hour or an hour and a half to Sacramento". Which, when I looked at my watch,
seemed that we would be an hour to an hour and a half early. Turns out the pilot
wasn't correct. We were exactly on time. Got my luggage I did, got my rental car I
did, and drive to Sam and Laurie's I did, in record time. My new Garmin did a good
job getting me there (though it left out the "turn left" off the exit, but I got it), Laurie
was home and composing, Sam was at work, and two black cats were there to be
cats. Sam shortly took me to lunch (I paid, but he drove) at In-N-Out nearby, which
was pretty good fast food, made to order. Sam got the Animal Fries, or maybe it was
Monster Fries, I don't recall. Sort of like an Ultimate Nacho, except with fries. I
declared it edible, and ate it. It was also 80 degrees out, and that ain't Celsius, baby.
The next day was Wednesday, by virtue of the calendar. For this day I was to
colloquialize at Berkeley, which had been set up by Ken. He had never told me a
time, but it was online as 3-5. Which turned out to be the time of a music department
faculty meeting. So it got recast as 5:15. And I drove to Berkeley (one hour,
approximately), though a bunch of American Recovery and Reinvestment Act stuff on
University Ave that added at least 15 minutes to the trip (to cover about a mile), and
after voluminous circling in the neighborhood, I found parking. Then found parking
again, later, right in front of CNMAT, a building where tech stuff happens. As well as
my colloquiage. Ken drove up in the 4:50 dusk and tried to set up playback and ...
given that the building generates the forefront of sound technology ... was amused
that the first setup for playback produced massive distortion. More things involving
wires and boxes and plugs happened, and I was able to play my stuff without worry,
and soon I was done. The group then headed to Jupiter -- not the planet (I wish), just
the pizza joint. Where I had a red beer and a red pizza. And drove back to Sam n
Laurie's, where at 10:30 they were still up. Kids, you know.
Thursday was Keynote Speech Day, and I arranged meeting with Steve Blumberg,
who directs the Festival of New American Music, which is the event at which I
keynoted speeched -- and the Garmin helped get me there, I parked in faculty
parking, and got ready for a speech. Several classes were brought in for this event,
as well as locals, and what I presumed were faculty. I got introduced by Steve, yet
more people poured in, and I read my speech. Which was 20 minutes, and then

opened up the floor to questions. Plenty of which I got, and in the end, I can
reasonably say ... I totally killed. After the speech, Steve took me and Asha
Srinivasan, a visiting composer from Wisconsin, to lunch. I had a panini, because
there is no such thing as a panini no-no. Then I went back to Woodland (Sam and
Laurie) and then back to the festival for the gala concert ... at 6:30, Marilyn Nonken
was doing her dress rehearsal, and I made movies of the two tood she was doing on
the gala concert for UToob (see green links on left). Marilyn sounded great as usual.
And the gala itself was broadcast live on local NPR, with an emcee from the station
and the format was ... talk to composer, play some music, repeat. I was first. Asha,
and Andy Rindfleisch, and Rich Festinger were other composers on the docket, and all
went according to plan. The other acts on the concert were a fl/cl duo and the
Meridian Arts Ensemble, who sounded fantastic, especially in this totally bitchin
David Sanford piece. When the concert was over, I was totally ready to go to the
bathroom. And drive back to Woodside. So I did.
Friday morning I played and talked about Stolen Moments for a composer thing back
at the festival, and then I drove to Berkeley for a day and night with His Rossness.
The Garmin got me there splendiferously, and we went to the Pyramid Brewery -- in
the rain! -- for lunch and let his two lovely dogs off at a local park for exercise on the
way back. Then there was computer play, Ross went to a rehearsal of a piece of his
while I formatted the two videos for UToob and uploaded them, and we went Italian
for dinner. Then more computer play, and to bed. Separately. The next day there was
a long hike with the dogs in Tilden Park (from which we could see the Bay), and back I
went to Woodland. For you see, Noche Cerveza dell'Ouest was to happen there, and
Ken made it all happen, as usual. Ken brought sausages for dinner, and we went to
Food4Less for firewood and ice, had our sausages, and indulged ourselves with
beerness. The Meridian Arts guys, Ross, and even Ed E.J. Cubs came over, and boy,
there ain't no stoppin' us now! So there.
Sunday Laurie had to go to concerts for performances of a big piece she tossed
together quickly, so I took Sam and Annabel to lunch in Davis. Then there was nap
time. Then there wasn't. And there was an Empyrean Ensemble concert with pieces
by Ross and Eddie to hear that very night. That very night. That very, very night.
They were great. And so we drove back to Woodland. Again.
Monday was the night of Marilyn's concert. So in the interval before, there was time
to movieize the other two toods Marilyn was doing (see green links on left), and I did.
There was a pre-concert thing with Steve Blumberg, Elizabeth Hoffman, Rich
Festinger and me, and that was short and slightly tart, and then there was the
concert. All went fantastically, and Marilyn ended with a Drew Baker piece that used
only the extremes of the piano and eighth notes for a long time, got louder, and
louder, and ended. And I liked it! Then back I came, went to sleep, woke up at 3:45
am for my 6:21 plane, drove to Avis, took my flights, paid for parking, and drove
home in the twinking of an eye before the beginning of rush hour. And the house was
both as and where I left it.
Meanwhile, I had caught the cold that was going around the SamNLaurie household,
and it has grown in stature within my body since my return. Wednesday was a normal
teaching day, and even with the help of lozenge-like things, making it all the way
through the teaching day turned out to be nothing short of miraculous. Nonetheless,
the raking beckoned. For you see, Beff's help was available this weekend but not
next, so getting as much done as possible was much to have been being desired. So
before the sun set -- which was not much time after my re-arrival -- I finished up the
two side yards. Which was quite a lot, actually. Thursday morning before I set off for

school -- and at 7:45, it turns out -- I cleaned up the front and back yards, and the
area to the side of the garage. And went in to teach and for Rand Steiger's
colloquium -- which it turns out, was FANTASTIC. And that night, Beff was back with
the cats, and Geoffy got in late. All is as it should be.
So yesterday morning Beff and I spent cleaning up the back behind the shed and the
"L" part of the yard. And right now the season raking total stands at 94 barrels. After
today's storm, all that will be left is the oak tree detritus behind the garage, and that
will be maybe 10 or 15 barrels. And, sigh, another raking year will have a-passed.
Stay tuned here for the final totals. After the raking was lunch at the Cast Iron
Kitchen, as usual for a Friday, a trip to Trader Joe's, and a long fire in the fireplace. For
you see, Beff got a cold, too, but for once not from me (or mine from her). Fire good. I
made salmon. Fire good.
And soon after this update is posted I am to be phone-interviewed for something or
other in Classical Notes in Friday's Globe. Apparently a microconcerto world premiere
AND an etudes CD release is overwhelming. Or something.
And so what's coming up. Mikronomicon is next Friday, at Tsai. The Marine Band is
recording Cantina next week, and I have been made privy to some online rehearsal
recordings. All is totally bitchin. This morning Geoffy played through some
Mikronomicon licks -- it is a concerto just for him, dontcha know -- and they sounded
amaziferouslitudinousness. On a good piano, even better. And then there's the
melodica. Woo hoo! Geoff learned how to play the melodica, which is good, because
he has to in my piece.
Tomorrow Beff leaves early for Maine, and I may do some raking. Otherwise, much
grading to do. Monday, photo for Globe. Thursday, rehearsal. Friday, concert. More
Marine Band rehearsals to listen to. Life is ... actually, just slightly complicated. But
then ... there is Thanksgiving, which we are doing in Albany. Big sigh. Oh yeah -Tuesday to Toyota for RECOMMENDED required maintenance, eye appointment, and
much grading. Wednesday, the Chopin 2nd Sonata slow movement and something
about rhythm in Theory.
And so, to the rest of the week. Today's pix include Sam and Laurie's treehouse, the
view of the Golden Gate from Tilden Park, Ross's trampoline, Ross's dog June, Ross,
and moi. Bye.
NOVEMBER 28 Breakfast was leftover apple pie, lemon-limeade, and coffee. Dinner
was Margherita pizza. Lunch was a salad with balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 27.0 and 66.6. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Finale of Tchaikovsky 6th. LARGE EXPENSES
SINCE LAST Cat watering device with accoutrements, $78; two bottles of Rosso di
Montalcino, $85; one bottle of Brunello, $42; routine service at Toyota $128, new Art
Nouveau chair $185. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Jiffy Lube -- who jammed the oil filter into the housing such that the housing had to
be destroyed and replaced to change the oil. Extra cost to me: $51. Amount of
business Jiffy Lube gets from me from now until I die: $0. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Toyota of Littleton (yes, it's really called that)
for the free wi-fi and breakfast, during which I was able to get four letters of rec out
during what would otherwise have been wasted time. PET PEEVE online
recommendation systems that require an uploaded file rather than entered text that
then tell you your uploaded file has exceeded the file size limit. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the couple of years that Beff and Martler and I
were housemates in grad school, Beff was our sole representative at a particular grad

seminar. Here I step back for a moment and let the reader(s) know that our time at
Princeton was still during its groovy era, during which there were no grades and no
required classes. I.e., zero classes was a full load, and so was three. So Martler and I
tooled away at home (despite our lack of tools), and late in the afternoon when Beff
got back from the seminar, she sighed, "I just can't get any empathy for my point of
view." To which I replied, "I know exactly how you feel." Rim shots lined the cosmos.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy
occasionally does the teeny meow thing, and Sunny stays on the bed in the morning
no matter what. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Sackajawah, a sedimentary mineral formed from
combinations of granite, talc and calcite, which was inexplicably usurped for
background vocals in the disco era. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 14. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE I can perform all of Jesus Christ Superstar from memory (which works best as a
duo with Hayes). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Major
sevenths and minor ninths are truly yummy. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 180.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.63 in Waltham, $2.95 in Colonie, New York.
RANDOM MUSINGS OF AN OBSTETRICIAN my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole
covers, 'Round Midnight.
Tessitura and apples became intextricably intertwined in the other dimension where
we were swimming. Of course, that doesn't mean we started barking -- on the
contrary, fourteen is the loneliest number (except after e). If we hadn't refrigerated
so snugly, it's clear the troopers and troupers could have homonymed their way out
of the balloon, but when the ladybugs heard about it, I couldn't see the Trafalgar
Square replicas. No bother -- I couldn't have smoked a flashlight anyway.
The last update came on a dreary Saturday, and this one comes on an equally dreary
one, though windy instead of rainy, and as a result, there's a whole mess o' pine
cones scattered about in the back yard that we'll have to pick up soon. I hate it when
that happens. Almost as much as you, dear reader, hate to read about it happening.
I'll try to be better, or maybe I won't.
As reader(s) know, the weather in California transmogrified from mid-August to
November while I was there, so I was well-prepared for east coast weather upon my
re-entry, since they were having some there, and then here. And when I got back to
the teaching thing, well, there it was. A last gasp of chorale writing was followed by
the Chopin funeral march thing (the B-flat minor music never gets a dominant, and I
called the quarter rest between a D-flat cadence and the non-dominanted resumption
of the B-flat minor music analagous to a blank tile in Scrabble. I could have been
wrong) and half a class worth of stuff about advanced rhythm things in Western
music. That half class turned out to be far too short, so return to that topic I will this
Monday, and speaking in the passive voice will be done by me. Although sometimes
you have to refer to yourself in second person singular. The next topic was the
Waldstein sonata, a very dominant topic indeed, if knowing what I mean is done by
you.
And, and, and ... only three days of classes left in the term! Though, more for me
because of makeup lessons owing to my trip to California. Yes, even though the term
ends on December 2, I will be teaching lessons as late as December 12. Which, if you
are clever, you can discover is a Saturday. Am I dedicated, or what? Do I ask too
many rhetorical questions? (second person) Are you dedicated, or what? Do you ask
too many rhetorical questions?
As to other un-school mundane things, just a few obsessive rake-a-mundos to take

care of other small bits of leafiness here and there -- as well as the future cone-a-thon
already mentioned. Beff's time here last weekend was short owing to her need to
return for a student's recital on Saturday afternoon. So this weekend, which is in the
process of being Thanksgiving weekend, she is here for the long haul, part of which
we spent in a long hall. Today's tasks? Grading for me, grading for Beff, and perhaps
a bit of a nice walk.
And, then, but ... Geoffy was around for a significant portion of this last reporting
period, since he was doing Musica Viva. As usual, this meant never having to wash
the dishes (unless you were Geoffy), and a nice Cast Iron Kitchen meal, Geoffy's
treat. It also meant tons of practice time at Brandeis, since not only was Geoffy doing
this gig, but also preparing for a Bauhaus show with She That Is Maria at the MoMA,
coming up real soon now. On the weekend, we made a little video of Geoffy going
through the opening of the finale of my piece that was written for him, on the
keyboard in the guest room, and at other times we didn't. My only role in this entire
undertaking -- and of course I had a role because, hey, I had a premiere and stuff -was to hear a rehearsal on Thursday morning (don't get me started on how I had to
rearrange my teaching to do that -- okay, get me started) and make a brief
microphoned statement at the actual gig. So I followed Geoffy to the rehearsal venue
-- a big church on Beacon Street in Brookline -- with my Garmin as backup, did
Starbucks, and listened in. I made various little comments, enjoyed immensely the
sound of the melodicas in the Pierrot ensemble (Geoffy AND Bob), and noted to self
how strange and brittle the piano sounded when it reentered after the dueling
melodicas. Indeed, to myself I said, "how strange and brittle is that piano sound after
hearing the dueling melodicas." The inner me is very literal. Then I drove back to
Brandeis to resume my many-altered schedule, and the route took me through my
old neighborhood from 1985-88. The four lost years! Okay, not lost. More like
unpointful.
On the day of the show, there was a featurette on me, Mikronomicon (the name of
said BMV piece), and Toods 3 in the Globe, and the online version is linked via the
blue link to the left. I got some paper copies, and declined to go to the dress
rehearsal ("I decline to go to the dress rehearsal," I was heard saying, or maybe I was
just thinking it). I did the customary lunch, Beffless though, at Cast Iron Kitchen, and
told the Door and Window people they could see me in that day's Globe, as well as
the wait staff at the Cast Iron Kitchen, and they though I was what they call "shitting"
them. Yes, it sounded even more implausible when I brought up that it was in the "g"
section, since they though I was making a joke. Not as big as the joke that the "g"
section has been since its inception, however. Did I mention that we terminated our
Globe delivery some while ago? The existence of the "g" section was on the list of
why. But I seem to have digressed (second person) but you seem to have digressed.
Incidentally, (second person) you got the artichoke hearts and steak sandwich for
lunch, and saved half the artichoke hearts for Beff because (third person plural) they
were getting back mid-afternoon, specifically to see Geoffy play the melodica fast
and loud.
Geoffy, meanwhile, apparently had a mild-to-medium case of food poisoning that
day, ostensibly from the calamari he'd had the night before. Amazingly, he was fine
and peppy when he got back for his 3:30 nap, and (third person plural) all of them
went with Geoffy in his car to the gig -- where, amazingly, and (second person) you
never knew this, there is plenty of onstreet parking in the bowels of the BU
neighborhood. We got a little dinner, and I had a 6:45 interview with a visiting British
journalist named Igor Hyphenated-Name (underlying point: you Americans can have
fun in music and we Brits can't) -- he quoted a number of British composers of whom
I had not heard, so I dropped some names of British composers of whom I have

heard, of whom (second person) you haven't heard. Then it was on to John Harbison
for him, and to Beff for me. And on our walks back and forth down those long halls
near the Tsai Performance Center, Beff pointed to where she once worked. I was
interested because it turns out it was a) during the unpointful years just mentioned
and b) I had recommended her for that job. Or (second person and first person plural)
you had recommended us for that job.
Then was the gig itself. Groovy Schwantner with wine glasses and just one chord,
groovy Davy, intermission. Chris Arrell Narcissus piece with one chord, Ives songs
arranged. Really cool Bernard Hoffer piece for encore, which had me a-hummin' the
tunes. Lots of really old people said they liked my piece, many of whom mentioned
the two-note ostinato in the slow movement, or my description of it and its quantity
(99 of 'em) during microphone time. Indeed, Derek J mentioned that the ostinato's
first manifestation (piano and vibes in double octaves) sounded like a Fender Rhodes.
Why, I never (third person plural) why, they never. Then we came home.
The next morning I made Denny's grand slam breakfasts for us all, using Trader Joe's
frozen pancakes (woo hoo!) and Beff took a photo for her Facebook page. Then off
went Beff, off went Geoffy, and out came the grading. Everything else was just a
light. Trips were made to good wine stores for good wine, and I also managed a fiver
of Bitter Lemon -- very hard to find anywhere, but they have it at the old fashioned
market in West Concord -- which means I now can make proper Butler specials. And
they have unlimited varieties of vastly overpriced Rosso di Montalcino across the
street. So we planned to vastly overdrink some.
On a parallel reality track that week was Mike and the Marines doing a proper studio
recording of Cantina. I got access to their online mp3s so I could follow along and ask
questions, and by Friday there were rough edits of all four movements with which to
play, and to play way too loud on headphones, plenty of which was done by me. I
now actually like the piece, whereas in the previous go-round I was rather ambivalent
about it. They played the drummy stuff in the finale SO fast that it literally sounds
impossible. And the scary bass clarinet solo sounded fambolous -- which is only
appropriate, since it was being played by the movement's dedicatee. As far as I can
tell, there is no official release for this recording, but it's a good thing to have and to
hold. I mean, okay. It's hot. So the recording of this piece means I have officially (on
the third try) learned how to write for band. Putting "writing for band" and especially
"wanting to write for band" in my rear-view mirror (third person plural) in their rearview mirror.
So this week involved Thanksgiving plans, and so it did. Beff had to work till eight on
Tuesday night and STILL had to write a memo (for you see, (first person plural) we are
Chair). Thus she left Wednesday morning. I, meanwhile, did my Wednesday morning
teaching at the 'Deis, and got back about 45 seconds after Beff -- who had stopped in
Maynard to pick up our T'giving apple pie, which I'd ordered 'n' paid fer a week
earlier. Quickly we got the stuff together and were off Albanywards at 12:30. In the
(sigh) drizzle and rain. Massive traffic slowups (or slowdowns, ironically with the same
meaning) around Worcester, but we made it, and made it we did. Yep, looks like we
made it. Wozzeck we made it. I am stalling here. Final destination: Latham, New York,
Beff's sister's house, and her son Jack, a junior in high school was present.
Dinner was had, beer was had, and videos were watched. Sleeping was done, and
totally passive it was. I had noticed a cat watering device with a little waterfall in it,
which reminded me of how much OUR cats like to wait around in the bathtub for the
occasional drips from the oldstyle faucet. So I found it online and ordered it! Woo
hoo! And on Thanksgiving Day proper, a walk in the neighborhood was had, cooking

and eating were done, and more videos were watched, except by me. Bonding was
done with Grim, the black and white cat. And then sleeping was done. Again!
Meanwhile, Ann has some nice Arts and Crafts style stuff in her house which is very
nice for the design. She had brought up that she had gotten a bunch of it at a salvage
place in the warehouse district of Albany, and she and Beff planned a Friday morning
trip there. And it was ironic thing to think -- oh, the salvage place. What a chick thing!
But I came along for the ride. And there, in addition to bonding with the dog and cat
attached to the place, I got some garlic and spicy pickles, pickled tomatoes, and Beff
got a necklace and a nice Art Nouveau style chair for $185. This was followed by a
chick walk in a funky nearby neighborhood and a return, and drive back to Maynard -in the rain, of course, and VERY briefly in a bit of mixed precipitation. Music by Fiona
Apple.
Back we got, unpack we did, feed the cats we did, and we watched a Julia Roberts
movie in front of a not-so-roaring fire we did.
Upcoming: end of the semester! More grading! Writing of music! Including a brief
piano trio movement on a hymn tune! Cataloguing the desperate expressions of
students asking for extensions! And shopping.
This week's photos begin with me 'n' Geoffy (second person: you 'n' Geoffy) reading
through the dueling melodicas part of Mikronomicon under the watchful camera eye
of Beff -- then, Geoff airing out the melodica at the BMV rehearsal to which I went.
Next, our nicely raked back yard, with local dog; Beff's grand slam breakfast, with
computer; two obligatory Thanksgiving Day meal pictures. And the new Art Nouveau
chair in its new context, contextualized with and without Sunny. Bye.
DECEMBER 13 Breakfast was grapefruit, potato pancakes, orange juice, and coffee.
Lunch was tomato sandwiches and roasted asparagus from Whole Foods. Dinner last
night was salad and Buffalo wings at Sadie's in Waltham. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
SINCE LAST UPDATE 15.8 and 66.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
Flutude #1, "Ram Tough". LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Two small Ionizers
(room air fresheners) $198. Christmas tree $35. Pizza for Theory 2 class $63. Parking
in NYC for Beff $45 for 4 hours. Down payment to Maynard Door and Window for six
replacement storm windows, $510. Second half of chimney rebuild in Bangor, $600.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY K-Mart, for enormous
computer glitches that forced me to stand at the counter holding a whole mess o'
stuff for a long time. And Fanfare Magazine, for offering to do a published interview
with me if I took out an expensive ad. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES
IN GLORY Staples dot com and amazon, for very quick turnaround after we made
orders. Also Sadie's in Waltham for large portions at low prices -- though I must add
that the quality of the Buffalo wings is so-so. PET PEEVE people who go right on red in
full view of the NO TURN ON RED sign. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In
eighth grade I got one of those President's Physical Fitness patches, even though in
the large litany of stuff you have to do for one of those I was deficient in pull-ups. I
ran the 50-yard dash in 6.2 seconds, and the standing broadjump was 8' 5-1/2". That
last number exceeded everyone in my class by at least two feet. It also exceeded my
standing broadjump in ninth grade by about two feet, since I was doing it in old,
slippery sneakers. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO
REPORT: Cammy has gotten to the sleeping near my head thing that usually goes on
in the winter, and Sunny is as needy as ever. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This
page, Performances, Compositions, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sengloit, a
vestigial organ in the throat not discovered until the 15th century, after which point it
mysteriously disappeared. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS

WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE In Kindergarten I could read at a fifth grade level but flunked a color test
because I was never taught the names of colors. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD
BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Bankers don't get bonuses but bone us's PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 235. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.57 in Maynard.
LET'S CALL THE WHOLE THING OOF my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers,
'Round Midnight.
Dear reader, I type as I usually do while it is dreary and dank outside -- a condition
commonly known as "December". Since the last update, we have had the first Arctic
outbreak and the first two accumulating snowfalls -- the second of which --ding! -- put
us in debt to Maynard Door and Window for snow plowing. And them what make have
been up to their usual tricks. But let he who is me backtrack a bit.
He who is me is really he who is I, because I know a thing or two about the predicate
nominative. Classes ended exactly when they were supposed to, and I finished up my
rhythm lecture, said a few things about the Agnus Dei from the B minor mass, and
bought $63 worth of pizza for the class to have on the last day, at which time we also
took some swings at the Aldwell/Schachter textbook outside with my axe (the comical
part there was having to open the book to "the chapter where he calls the same
chord FOUR DIFFERENT THINGS!"). Yes, we were in agreement that, as an
undergraduate theory textbook, the Aldwell/Schachter is, on a scale of 0 to 10 where
0 is pretty good and 10 is the worst ever, a 12. And then they had a week to write a
final paper of a length of 3 to 10,000 pages. Naturally, several of the class apparently
listen to classic Beatles songs, particularly "Eight Days a Week" and interpreted it
literally.
I also went in for makeup composition lessons, thus extending my part of the
teaching semester by a week. And when it came time for grading, the time necessary
was legion: final Waldstein analyses took a full afternoon and evening to grade, while
the final papers took two evenings and a full morning. For you see, this year's class is
three-halves the size of last year's, and I should thus have assigned two-thirds of the
work (it's called a reciprocal, and anyone can have one).
There were several bouts of very windy weather, and the pine trees have been very
cone-fecund this year. I had reported that this year the leaf rakage was over and the
barrel amount frozen at 104. But then, TWO windstorms blew a buttload of pine
cones into the yards, and after the first storm Beff collected five shopping bags of
them for the fireplace and I raked up two whole barrels worth for discard. Later there
was another windstorm and a barrel and a half to collect and discard. Give the
bagged cones credit as a barrel, and the grand total for the year is now at 108 and a
half -- with another buttload recently fallen and STILL MORE to come down. I hate it
when that happens. And when that happens, I hate it (speaking of reciprocals).
In the midst of all that kinda stuff, Beff did two normally-lengthed weekends in
Maynard, and I did both of my usual Friday lunches at the Cast Iron Kitchen. Beff, of
course, had her own grading to do, as well as a bunch of scores to produce, so we
kept quite busy, being interrupted mostly by our usual walks -- over and around the
Assabet, etc., and this morning to the new Walgreen's in Maynard and back (had to
get soap, fiber supplement, and wrapping paper). Speaking of which, Beff's other
large task in this period was assembling the yearly Christmas boxes for my relatives,
sealing them, and sending them off via UPS from Staples. Beff likes going to Staples
for such things because it means she can stock up on handy dandy quick lunches for
the office.

But this most recent Friday I was alone at the Cast Iron Kitchen for lunch because Beff
was doing her twice-yearly drive to New York City for an ACA meeting, which she
does because she is on the "Board". This gets her going at 8 and returning at 10, and
when she talks about what happened in said "Board" meeting, I think about jell-o and
pretend I'm not bored out of my mind. Well, one of those things, anyway. There are
random buttons inside my head that cause me to say "Mmm hmm" or "Oh" or
"Really?" or "Huh", and I seem to be able to press them randomly -- when there are
pauses in Beff's "Board" stories -- to disguise the fact that I'm really just thinking
about jell-o.
As to the weather, our first proper storm was punted severely by Them What Make,
who waffled between zero snow and 4-6 inches of snow, and as the snow started
firmly put our area in a swath of 5" predicted. Actual result: less than an inch. How
did I remove the offending snow? With a broom. Since that storm was on a weekend,
not much of my required driving was affected by the inclemency. Meanwhile,
Wednesday, my last day of makeup teaching, the more substantial storm came
through, and if I had not gone to California I would have not had to go in to do
makeup lessons, and ... well, it was so icky in the morning that I drove to South Acton
station, on the way getting stuck behind a car with awful tires that didn't seem to be
able to go more than 3 miles an hour, which I finally drove around, and took the
commuter rail toand from Brandeis. Of course the precip changed to rain around 11
am, which means that when I got back, there was very wet heavy stuff with which to
deal -- and about five inches of snow to brush off my car. Then my driveway was
poorly plowed -- very narrow, not even wide enough to get two cars into the two-car
garage -- and I found out that a substitute plow guy had done the driveway, and
someone else had to come back to do the proper plowing. And I shoveled both walks
of that really heavy snow, even though I pay to have that done. So there.
In the meantime, sort of out of the blue, Mary Fukushima (whose website is the
domain marykirkendoll.com) sent the recordings of her October premiere of my two
flutudes from October 2008 (composed in that white heat during a 12-day teaching
hiatus offered by the Jewish holidays that year), and not only was the recording of a
very high quality, the performance itself was smokin'. I mean, really, off the charts
hot (who knew beatboxing was so cool?). And the pieces, which I had completely
forgotten, were pretty good, too. So immediately it occurred to me that I had to write
more. On Tuesday I wrote down a few notes on a piece of ... gee, I hadn't used it in so
long I forgot what it was called ... "manuscript paper" ... for a flute etude on
harmonics and arpeggios, taking off on a few licks in both flutudes. And yesterday -- I
finished flutude #3! Beff and I made the usual stabs at punny titles, and the winner,
such as it is, was "Harm's Way". This way each flutude has a two-word title. Am I
going to write a fourth one? Dunno yet. Meanwhile, dear reader, you can witness
Mary's a-smokin' performances with the yellow links on the left and see the new
flutude at the green link. And you can even relive classic times by watching my
condensed instructional video with Mary demonstrating some of the special effects I
was supposed to be using, at the white "Flute demos" link therein. So there. That
movie was made in June 2008, and what it is, too.
Lurching way back in time -- the Drinkwell pet fountain of which I wrote in the last
update (a little cascade of drinking water for the cats) arrived at the beginning of this
reporting period, and it was easy to put together and get going. This also involved
reconfiguring the cat feeding area from a funny blue all-in-one contraption to a
Drinkwell and a separate bowl for dry food. And guess what? That's what I did! And at
Beff's urging, I took Flip videos of both cats encountering the device for the first time.
You, dear reader, can witness those videos by clicking on the light gray "Cammy" and
"Sunny" links to the left. Yes, you can!

Yesterday (the day before today, but after Friday, which was the day that Beff spent
fourteen hours of her day for an ACA "Board" meeting and jell-o thoughts for me) was
a sparklingly busy day. Not only did I finish my flutude in the morning and start the
Finale-ing at that time, but we also went to the parking lot at Shaw's to get our yearly
Christmas tree -- we got a smallish one this year -- and gave a guy 35 bucks, drove it
back, set it up, watered it, and Beff did the decorating. I like how shiny it is when the
lights are lit. And not only did we do that -- we then had to go to Brandeis because I
was doing one last makeup lesson, and while we were going in we thought we'd try
out Sadie's Bar and Grill and Waltham, which had been recommended to us as a good
place for Buffalo wings. The portions were huge for the price, and the wings were -okay. Somewhere between mediocre and good. I could talk about the peppery
aftertaste that lingers on the tongue, which I liked, but I won't. Because I am thinking
about jell-o. Then was the lesson and the concert and we came back. The concert
was pretty good, by the way.
So there is still a bit of Theory 2 grading to do (I like to procrastinate, when I can get
around to it, and that reminds me to develop a joke some time with a line in it similar
to "Why has it taken you so long to start procrastinating?", but given the funny
quotient maybe I won't), and pieces to write. Next up, I think, is a piano trio thing
taking off on a hymn -- Beff has this commission, too -- and I chose a couple of hymns
in Spanish as my taking off point. Also there is this four cello monstrosity, maybe a
piano etude, and maybe some work on a Sondheim project whose details I don't have
fully yet. I have plenty to keep me busy the next five weeks. And by the way, number
of hours until my sabbatical just fell below 3500.
Last Monday, by the way, ended on a high note. After three hours of makeup lessons
in the morning and an afternoon spent on a panel awarding grants for the Festival of
the Arts, I got to be in the Provost's office along with UV, the Dean, and a vice
president for a surprise do wherein Eric Chasalow was awarded the Irving G. Fine
Chair in Music. Which means he is now the Irving G. Fine Professor. UV and I milked
the occasion for all the wine it was worth, and we made Eric tell stories. Eric tells
good stories.
And for the sake of mathematical completeness. On Thursday I went to the dentist.
Coming up: no driving to speak of. Dinner with the Chafes at the Cast Iron Kitchen.
The pieces to write mentioned above. Christmas in Maynard with all of Beff's family.
And eating, drinking, and going to the bathroom. Next update: year-end roundup!
This week's pictures begin with a view of pineconeness in the non-snowy version of
the yard, followed by a grand slam breakfast I made for Beff on the Sunday after
Thanksgiving. Geoff and I got identical ones. Next is the Schroeder bobblehead in my
office with some accoutrements. Then, SNOW! pictures. The first is the back yard in
two-tone mode, since in light storms it doesn't accumulate in a small portion of yard.
Next is the morning shot just after sunrise, trees seen from the front porch, and on
the Assabet. The final shot is a closeup of part of the sketch for Harm's Way. Bye.
DECEMBER 26 Breakfast was potato pancakes, fake bacon, orange juice, and coffee.
Lunch was Trader Joe's French Onion Soup. Dinner last night was pork roast, cherry
compote, soup, mushrooms, white wine, white wine, white wine, and red wine.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 7.9 and 41.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Stairway to Heaven. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE
Various charitable donations totalling $1000, new storm windows $1014, $28 for a
new windowshade, shopping at Whole Foods $massive. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT

COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY none. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED

THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Cast Iron Kitchen for the lunches and dinners (tonight,
too!), and the 5&10 in West Concord. PET PEEVE cars in parking spaces that don't
stay between the lines. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My Four Lost Years
began right after my four year stint at Princeton was up, and for the first year I took
temp jobs in the area -- both of them at Educational Testing Service. I did about 4
weeks full-time at TOEFL, took a week off, and then got sent to the Test Center
Administration of ETS for my second stint; they hired me away from the temp place
at a steep cost, or so they said. I spent the days typing letters to people who were
were getting someone to administer their standardized tests at remote places where
no testing was otherwise available. It was less boring than it sounds, and I also
occasionally used the Telex machine (oooh!). Best/worst pun I came up with while
there -- a supervisor came to a nearby typing table to use the typewriter and asked,
"doesn't this table have wings?"I answered, "Sometimes when I'm typing, the phone
wings." Career note: during this first lost year: premiere of "Slange", which was to be
my first published piece. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Silent meows from Cammy when he is sleepy, and Sunny still
visiting the little catnip patch near the gazebo. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK:
This page, Performances, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Vrimskglot,
the pattern formed on the inside of your mouth by your saliva just before you drool.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE The rage for distressed
typewriter fonts in advertising in the mid 90s is largely my fault. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Sunny weekends. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 14, 290. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.57 in Maynard. THE
POSTMAN ONLY RANG ONCE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers,
'Round Midnight.
As is usual for this part of this space, I am able to give you reportage that it is dreary
outside, as this part of the country is brushed by the second "massive storm" in the
last two weeks. For those of you with slide rules, that's an average of one massive
storm per week. More on that later. No, wait. More on that now. Them What Make
were up to they's old tricks for *last* weekend. That first Massive Storm had been
forecast to pass to our east, thus giving us at most a dusting, though Cape Cod was
supposed to get a foot or two of snow. About 48 hours before the storm's passing, we
still had "snow showers" forecast for the weekend. Then suddenly -- Them What Make
only do such things suddenly -- there was a Winter Storm Warning. And what we got
was about 8 inches of very powdery and light stuff. Granted, in New England in
February, 8 inches is a dusting (I can go elsewhere with that joke, but I won't), but
before Christmas it has the stuff of calamity. Or clamato, I forget which. So our plow
guys came and plowed us, and I shoveled the flat roof over the side porch, because it
is what you do when you have a lot of snow on a flat roof and rain is predicted for
later in the week. By the way -- today is later in the week, and it is raining. The
freezing rain Them What Make warned of for this second massive storm (passing well
to our west) -- well, of course it didn't happen.
I waited until the last possible minute to record my grades online -- which was the
22nd -- after which there was the relief of a burden. That burden being the posting of
my grades. This year's Theory 2 crop averages a bit better than last year's, but that's
just because I'm older, and worth it. Meanwhile, as all we who read this space knew, I
had finished a third flutude, whose link is still posted below. After that, it was to the
second vacation piece on tap, which is a weird commission if ever there was one. It
was Phoenix Concerts, for a 3- to 4-minute piano trio, for a hymn-themed concert in
which all the new pieces take off on existing hymns (I like saying that because I can
say "off" and "on" consecutively -- I wonder how many more ways there are to do

that -- as well as also to use words that end "mn"). Beth has this commission, too. We
were sent copies of possible hymns to use, and Beff chose one from "The Church
Triumphant" section of the hymnal. I chose two that were in Spanish. I started before
Beff and therefore finished before Beff, and I chose the formal scheme "fantasy" -- i.e.
whatever the hell I wanna do whenever the hell I feel like it. I finished my piece,
made scores and parts and sent them off on Tuesday of this week, and Beff finished
hers on Wednesday. My title has Lennonesqueness to it -- Double Fantasy. Because,
you see, I did whatever the hell I wanted to whenever the hell I felt like it, thus giving
the piece fantasyesqueness, and it's based on two hymns, and ... well, dear reader,
you fill in the rest. See green "Double Fantasy" link and the red link below it for the
source hymns.
And so what's up next? A weirder commission yet. Another brief piece, 3-5 minutes,
this one for full orchestra (with piano!), for a kid's concert in May in which I write my
music but hide quotes from Beethoven's Fifth inside. Je ne te merde pas. The concept
of the whole concert is a bit complicated to go into, but they *are* doing a movement
of "Stolen Moments", which will be an example of "a style", of which there will be
several on the concert. And the audience will be asked to guess which composer
could have written -- the piece I am about to start. My initial idea, given the premise,
was to write a Stolen Moments II (This Time It's Personal), and that is cute, because
then I would be responding to responding to jazz. And maybe I will, maybe I won't.
I'm going to start work on it on Monday, but as of this typing I only have very vague
musical ideas. Especially since -- how do you shop around a 5 minute orchestra
piece? So, the current rattling in my brain is that it will be something like an "essay
for orchestra" (say it again, Sam), to be joined, eventually, by more essays. Please
don't make me call it an Etude. Oh yes, and the group is ... the Marine Chamber
Orchestra, they will do the parts themselves, and I'll be there to own up to my theft of
Beethoven. May 9, Alexandria, Virginia, and what it is, too. And by the way, I usually
have quite a bit more lead time than this for orchestra music.
But this leaves open the question of more movements for the four-cello piece, which I
had also planned to work on during this vacation. It remains to be seen if I'll be able
to get to it. So this makes this vacation already much more productive than last
year's winter break, which was spent mostly waiting for Eric Hill to tell me just what
he wanted for the Hecuba music, and then ... writing it. Speaking of which ... a video
of a small part of the production of Hecuba got posted on vimeo as an example of
someone's backdrop designs, and you can hear some of the music I writed. And the
sound that happens when the staffs strike the floor is some combo of me hitting
piano strings and col legno battuto noises, I think. See yellow "Hecuba" link below.
Meanwhile, there was eating and drinking to do, and we did as much as we did, but
not more, and we took walks and went to the bathroom, but never at the same time
(at least that we are aware of). Beff arrived for a long stint last Friday, we did the
Cast Iron Kitchen, did a call with our financial advisor, took walks, did shopping and
all that. On the day after the 8 inch dusting, we drove into Brandeis because Beff
wanted to see a particular orchestration in Pulcinella, and the Brandeis library was
the closest place with a score of said piece of music, and we drove in, got the score,
stopped at Whole Foods on the way back, and had a fire. Beff is, herself, working on
something for orchestra -- the U Maine one -- and one guesses she wanted to do
something like that Pulcinella orchestration. The conductor, by the way, wants her to
integrate video in the piece, and she's finally going to use the massive train footage
that we accumulated some while ago -- including 13 movies of trains in Bogliasco,
Italy, from May 2006, and a VCCA train in January 06. Just to make sure there was
footage to work with, we went to West Concord specifically to get a movie of the
gates closing as a train approaches the commuter rail station, and I had the iPod

nano and Beff the Flip. Beff positioned herself to film the train approaching the
station, and me across the street to get the gates closing -- and wouldn'tcha know,
the iPod ran out of battery as it was doing the movie, and the Flip -- Beff didn't
manage actually to press that little red "record" button -- bad design, especially if it's
17 degrees and you are wearing gloves. But hey, I got some candy there for Martler,
so it wasn't a totally wasted trip.
And my spring semester schedule continues to morph -- that May 9 thing in Virginia
being just one of the new events on my calendar. I had been slated to be on an
external review committee for UC Santa Cruz in February, and meanwhile the
Chicago Chamber Musicians programmed Hyperblue on one of their concerts
happening at the same time (the concert was actually curated by my homey Lee
Hyla, who has fewer letters in both names than I do in my last one). So I was SOL.
The review, though, got postponed by a year at least, which freed up those days for
going to the Chicago performance, which is what I will do. And even do some sort of
colloquium at Northwestern the day after. So there, smarty pants. I also know my
Utah dates -- April 5-6 for UU and 7-8 for BYU. As to my thing at Eastman, no idea
still. But May 9 -- definitely I'll be in Alexandria, Virginia, playing the part of the thief.
Beff's sister Ann is now here for Christmas (which was being yesterday, as of when
this was typed), and we also saw 2 of the 3 brothers for Christmas (which was, as you
know, yesterday). We did a Christmas eve thing at brother Matt's Cambridge
apartment, where he had made exactly seven times as much food as was needed.
Brother Bob, whose Cambridge apartment is next door, was counted on to make
Matt's cooking only four times as much as was needed, but he couldn't make it. Beff
and Ann and I took the commuter rail to Cambridge for this fest, which was a cool
$40.50 round trip for all three of us, but you know, it's the holidays. And yesterday I
picked up the two guys at the South Acton commuter rail at 12:13, we did Christmasy
stuff (because, you know, it was Christmas, and yesterday) including a complicated
meal made mostly by Ann of pork thingies that were *really good*. I made my usual
celery stuffed with cream cheese things, and ate almost all of them myself. Because,
you see, I like celery stuffed with cream cheese. Oh yeah, and because it was
Christmas, gifts were given. I now have some nice bendy spatulas, for instance. The
bigger gifts -- already given, so there. Tonight -- Cast Iron Kitchen with Ann. Last
Saturday night: Cast Iron Kitchen with Eric and Pat Chafe. Cast Iron Kitchen: I like it.
Beers ordered by Eric: Hop Devil and Rapscallion.
And also. Because of Beff having to use Facebook for her job (to save money, the
concert publicity is done on Facebook), I finally caved and re-upped. That's me there.
And I got a bunch of new "Friends" owing to uploading a bunch of my Auvillar pictures
and "tagging" James Wiznerowicz (the only classical composer known to me with two
z's in his name).
Now that it's the end of the year, it's the time for the end of the year roundups
(hence the name). So here I try to remember what I did and what I wrote. Which is
not hard, because it's all written down somewhere. Newly written: Hecuba music,
Mikronomicon, This Means Warble, Solid Goldie, Whole Lotta Shakin', You Blew It,
Polkritude, AhChim AnGae, Harm's Way, and Double Fantasy. Trips: Baltimore for the
Amy show, Fredonia New York for the Davy and Amy show, Bangor for the Amy show,
Cleveland for the Davy and Claude show, New York for Stolen Moments premiere,
France for Etchings, Vermont twice for the a-summerin', Utah for the Barlow board,
Albany for Thanksgiving. Number of cars owned by me totalled this year: 1. Proper
recording sessions: "Cantina" by the Marine Band. Number of new cars purchased: 1.
Number of Toyota Corolla S models in our name this year: 2. Number of new 88-key

keyboards purchased this year: 1. Date of first crocus: March 7. Landscaping: added
new yard after much of fence was damaged by pine tree limbs felled by the
December 12 (2008) ice storm. CDs released: Winged Contraption and Etudes
Volume 3. Newly published: Piano Concerto. Number of times I quit Facebook: 2.
Number of times I rejoined Facebook: 2. Number of mortgage re-fi's this year: 1.
Current mortgage rate compared to 2000 rate: -2.75%. Number of times I barfed in
2009: 0. Number of times I metaphorically barfed in 2009: about 20. Number of times
I ate soup with my left hand in 2009: 0. Number of colonoscopies in 2009: 1. Number
of dinners with Gusty Thomas in 2009: 2; number of times it snowed during those
dinners: 1. Canoe rides in 2009: 0.
And below, the year 2009 in pictures. You know the drill: each month is represented
by one picture, in the order they occurred. Drum roll, please. January: Gil Rose and
Joel Gordon at Winged Contraption editing session. February: Hecuba music recording
session. March: the obligatory snowfall after the first croci emerge. April: Sunny
enjoying the spring weather. May: a lady's slipper orchid growing wild in the Delaney
Nature Preserve. June: the central area for Etchings in Auvillar, France. July: the
Assabet River, uncharacteristically still. August: one of the many spectacular Vermont
sunsets. September: the department pot luck at our house. October: isolated foliage.
November: Main Street in Kensington, California. December: Cammy enjoys the box
in which my sister sent us holiday gifts. Bye.
JANUARY 4, 2010 Breakfast was a Thomas's whole wheat bagel with fat free cream
cheese. Lunch was the Buffalo tender wrap at the Blue Coyote Grill. Dinner was a
Lean Cuisine Panini (it's called "a panini" on the box, but wouldn't one be a "panino"?
Does anyone ever order "a sandwiches" or "some green bean" or, for that matter, put
on a pant? Or an earmuff?) TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 15.6 and
35.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First movement of Stolen
Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE $156 at Whole Paycheck.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY none. COMPANIES
THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Cast Iron Kitchen continues to get
my vote here. PET PEEVE roadside litter that ends up on the sidewalk in front of our
house -- from milk cartons and beer cans to orange t-shirts. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: My first arranging experience, as it were, was for the jazz band in
high school -- jazz band was actually a course that met daily, last period. Before that
was cut as frivolous. I arranged "Heaven on Their Minds" from JC Superstar, and -this shows how dumb I was -- there was no score of it. I simply had the
instrumentation in mind, and wrote out parts, one by one. Apparently this was how
some composers wrote music in the Middle Ages. I do not recall the band ever
playing the arrangement, but it's probably still in the archives somewhere. My first
arrangement that had an actual score was "What's This World Comin' To?" from
Chicago's sixth album, and we did read through it, and it was hard. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Beff got a little pot of
plain old grass that the cats like to nuzzle, as is their wont. UPDATED ON THIS SITE
THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: schaloogeau, an ear trumpet
perfected before the word "trumpet"existed. Thus the name. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have passed the average age for reading glasses and
still don't need them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE:
Jingoism recognized as jingoism. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 364. WHAT I
PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY I have not bought gas recently. Woo hoo! TRY THESE
WHEN YOU RUN OUT OF TREMENDOUS my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole
covers, 'Round Midnight.
Dear reader, two things are unusual about this update, at least one of which is only

virtually visible, and in your mind, if you do not lack reading comprehension. I am
typing at night (thus it is dark), and I am about five days early compared to my usual
timing. Maybe I should oughta splain.
It's simple, really. My indoor/outdoor thermometer which has been in the master
bedroom for about seven years was blinking at me. Blinking, can you believe it? Does
it need to salinate its ... eyes? Nope, for the first time since I installed it in that there
north-facin' window, the batteries are low, and I had to change them. Thus
eradicating the record of highest and lowest temps since the last update! Jiminy
Cricket, and a box of hundred pound anvils! So I wrote 'em down. And will get back to
you, dear reader, the next time the "thermometer" (at least that's what it calls itself,
even when no one is around), needs new batteries. Again! It's two triple As, by the
way, which is kind of a sextuple A, unless you were born into it.
So the mere nine days since the last update have had what one might call nein-days
-- how ironic, eh? As well as a whole bunch of things that don't rhyme with "purple".
Since it has been academic vacation for all concerned (except frogs, but that doesn't
concern me), Beff and I have been spending our days almost exclusively inside and at
home. Chez Nous. Nostra casa e nostra casa. And as far as writing away, goes, a
storm is what we have been. And seeing as that's just about all we've done -- except
troll the internet for news and weather -- there won't be a wide variety of experience
reported today. Deal with it.
So yes, on the day after Christmas, Beff and Ann and I did the Cast Iron Kitchen at
6:45 pm, and I got the swordfish puttanesca. I make swordfish puttanesca a lot
myself (including last night, too long ago to report up above), so it was interesting to
see what the pay-to-eat-it version is like. Well, it turns out it comes with Brussels
sprouts (who has time to go to Belgium?) that were grilled, and the volume of
puttanesca sauce was about equal to the volume of swordfish. Which means the
sauce was pretty durn a-thick. Tasty, too, and that's alliterative (and I'm not
alliterative because my parents were married when I was born). Beff got the scallops
thingie again, and I don't recall what Ann got. But we got the requisite excellent
beers -- Rapscallion for me, and some Grimbergen Christmas for Ann, and Old
Speckled Hen for Beff ... along with the grilled bread and artichokes we always get as
appetizers. Then we came home, celebrating the end of (see last week's update)
Massive Storm #2 by walking home in the ... nothing. Ann drove back to Albany the
next morning, and Beff and I were, by default, free to begin our post-Christmas work.
And we did, Oscar, we did.
Beff started a duo for clarinet and cello for herself and Noreen -- who, by process of
elimination, can be discovered as the "cellist", or cello player, in this duo. Beff's piece
had lots of little notes and warbles and harmonics, and we spent some time with her
hobbled copy of Finale un-hobbling it and coming up with the most efficient ways to
notate those complicated harmonics thingies. "Most efficient" being somewhat
analagous here to the "best sounding" group of nine hundred bagpipes. Lawdy, I
swearzit, notation software makes sure you really *want* those special effects. Um,
because, like, and you know ... um, notating them is ... time consuming. And this
weekend, she finished the piece, bandied about weather words related to yet another
weekend storm (dear reader, can you believe it took me until the fifth paragraph to
bring up the weather? More later, as I'm sure you expect), and decided it was a tossup between Winter Weather Advisory and Special Weather Statement. I believe she
chose the former. 'cause, like you know, who could ever sit still for a performance of
something called Special Weather Statement? I mean really.
And yes, weather has played another important role in our lives, but in this case since

we didn't really have to drive anywhere -- wait, that's not actually true. Well, it kept
us inside a lot. I actually spent some time in this update period reading through some
old postings from the News Archive, as evidenced on the left, and they are chock full
(chalk full?) of lovingly detailed details about weather stuff that I've completely
forgotten about, and ... I like them anyway. So for over this last weekend, yet another
big storm formed near Texas (I've never liked that state. Much), moved toward New
England, strengthened in the gulf of Maine into an ocean storm, and ... missed us!
But then due to some atmospheric block of some sort, it .. backed in! ... and gave us
about eight fluffy inches meted out over about a forty hour period of very light snow.
It was water torture, I tell you -- frozen water, actually. And Beff had planned to drive
to Bangor on Sunday (made especially possible by her finishing of her duo), but the
storm backed a back-door *warm* front way up north, so that Bangor was 20 degrees
warmer than Maynard, and for a while it was ... rain! ... on Sunday. But too dangerous
for a 250-mile drive, so Beff left at 5:45 this morning, arriving to a foot of heavy snow
to shovel in the driveway. Ewww. She says it took her an hour and a half, and boy are
her arms tired. Even though she got to use her electric shovel thingie. *Had* to use
her electric shovel thingie. And she had to postpone her early Monday Subaru
maintenance appointment, since she was -- not within a hundred miles. She comes
back Wednesday. And will still be on vacation.
Meanwhile, the me that is I, assuming we use predicate nominative here, started the
weird premised piece for the Marine Chamber Orchestra late in the afternoon on the
second day after Christmas (you know, the two turtle doves day). As noted here
already, the piece is specifically for a family concert on May 9, it's a sleuthing theme,
and I play the part of the thief who stole Beethoven's Fifth. And the premise leading
to the theft is performances of a bunch of different composers and an explanation,
such as it is, of how to recognize each one's music. In my case, they are doing the
first movement of Stolen Moments, the "response to jazz", and with some hip stride
piano in it (Played with the hands, not with the hips, silly). Thus my piece has stride
piano in it, and Beethoven's Fifth. Talk about fun -- it could have been a harder
assignment, such as make the quote in the shape of a trapezoid, and slyly quote all
the other music on the program, but they didn't go that far. And ... the piece was
started, and quoted the Fifth in bar 65 (yes, I know -- 106 bars or so and it becomes
the Fibonacci point, and what it is, too) after a development of the three repeated
note figure without a fourth note, etc. I am now doing the ending section of the piece,
which is going much more slowly. Indeed, today's output is gross thirteen bars, net
five bars. As they say anagramically, carp. In any case, if this piece doesn't kill me, it
looks like I'll have some time to write more four-cello music. Excellent, Mozart, I'm
coming along. The piece's working title? "Foodstuffs: III. Pompelmo". I don't
understand it either.
We did spend the dark latter part of the day before the water-torture storm driving to
the "wisdom of" Solomon Pond Mall, parking, and watching "Up in the Air" in a movie
theater at the matinee price ($7.75, why I never). It was only the second movie we've
seen in the theater this year (that I recall -- the other was "Up!", in Burlington), and it
was a very good movie. Three very good performances, and story lines that enhance
the metaphors, which in turn enhance the story lines, etc. This is called symbiosis,
and anyone can have one.
There were other small side trips to Whole Foods, BJs (logs, batteries, toilet paper,
dish liquid, etc.), Trader Joes, Staples, and Donelan's Market, but mostly that was us
in our house. There are now fifteen days of writing time before I return to Brandeis
and do that wowin' 'em thing again. And I plan on using them all. MWA ha ha ha ha.
Ha.

The only other stuff of note is that the calendar year turned over, and a virtual new
decade started -- even though we all know that the decade begins in 2011, as the
millennium began in 2001, but will they listen? Will they listen? Will? They? Listen?
Huh? But that third digit did that thing it does only once a decade, and as soon as I
remember just what that is, I will not mention anything about it in this space. Bye.
Bye? Wait, no, I'm not finished. Okay. Beff and I took walks, including the really big
one around the Assabet (figuratively), and Beff slipped on the ice once. I obsessively
shoveled MORE after we were plowed from the recent storm because I like a roomy
turning-around area at the top of my driveway. And now Sunny can't go under the
gazebo without what he leaves evidence in the form of cat tracks.
Being that that third calendar digit thing happened, I leave you, dear onlooker, with
my first decadence retrospective. Wait, decadence? You mean just because we did
something for ten years we get to ... misbehave? Cool. So the decadence
retrospective gives up one picture per year whose number began with 2 followed by
0, and please, no drum rolls this time.
2000: Me, Jeremy Woodruff, Allison Deane on Cadillac Mountain in Maine overlooking
the Bah Hahbah.
2001: Stacy's artful photo of me, David Szmuk and Amy B after the first time she did
etudes of mine in Chicagoland.
2002: More than a year later (duh) me 'n' Amy at the first etudes recording sessions
2003: me at the VCCA figuring out the multiple exposure feature on my then-new
Nikon Coolpix 4500.
2004: the cats when they was new
2005: me, Beff, and John Aylward at Ines's party at the Atlantic Center for the Arts.
2006: me all dowdied up and fooling no one, before dinner at the Bogliasco
Foundation.
2007: Mary Fukushima mugging for the camera in NYC before she did "Firecat" and
Mike Kirkendoll premiered two Davytudes
2008: me 'n' Judy Sherman wearing each other at the *third* Davytude recording
sessions.
2009: Me outside of Ross's house in Kensington. Bye.

JANUARY 18 Breakfast was coffee and orange juice. Dinner was a Trader Joe's
Margherita pizza (Trader Joe's has not paid a promotional fee for mention on this
page, and what it is, too). Lunch was grilled chicken and Spaghetti-O's, 3 hours apart.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 3.2 and 47.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Absofunkinlutely. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE
$119 for a 1 TB drive for Beff, $186 airfare to Chicago, $118 hotel in Chicago
(prepay). COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY oh, let's say
the pet store in Northampton for convincing us to buy a bag of cat food that the cats
don't care for. But that's reaching back to June now. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Brandeis University, for starting the spring
semester AFTER MLK Day. PET PEEVE Sleet and ice covering our sidewalks that are
pretty impossible to clear. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Even though I'm
ten and a half years younger than my brother, I frequently had the chance to hide in
his shadow in elementary school -- as in, teachers who had taught him called me
"Donny" until they got used to my actual name. The principal at the elementary
school once made everyone in the cafeteria stay at their tables until he decided they
were quiet enough. And he would look toward a table, and say into the PA system, "I
see a quiet table with a [insert name] at it." He looked at my table and said, "I see a
quiet table with a Donald at it", and two other tables got up to leave. But not mine.

NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Beff we
got another potted oat grass plant for the cats to nuzzle, and BOTH of them now like
the gift box from my sister. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: toosk, origin obscure but
probably Finnish, was the substance used to affix the incendiary (fire-making)
ingredients to the end of a kitchen match. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE I have floaters. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: People see the world like I do. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 379.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.72 in Maynard. WATCH THIS SPACE my
head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
If the blame were equally distributed, foxes would get all my iron. For you see, ten
squirmy head lice are vastly superior to any kind of inland weather system that
wasn't put upon by frogs. Once we get the refrigerator into my nose, we can find the
Post-It's better half, and then we'll have to show cause for the rest of the flashlight.
Could there be a better way to infract?
Dreary is back! Not only dreary, but messy, sloppy, slushy, gray, and ... well, plenty
of white, too. Them What Make have had a habit this winter of predicting a big storm
to form in Texas and go out to sea, thus missing New England, and each time said
storm has had its way with us. Including the one just about winding down as typing
this is being done by me. Last night, even before the precipitating began, our
electricity went off twice, each time for about three seconds, and each time preceded
by two seconds of brownout (not the corporate brownout related to the nose, but a
different one). You have to think whoever keeps those switches on for us is a bit like
the kid putting a finger in the dike, and switch-person had to sneeze for the
inclement weather, and I have no idea where I'm going with this. So I'll stop. In any
case. Nothing, snow showers, rain showers to snow showers, rain to snow, rain to
sleet and snow, rain to rain and snow to sleet and snow to rain to snow have been on
our weather plate, and the one we chose was ... rain to snow to drizzle. There are 4
slushy, cementy inches out there, and I've already been out this morning to shovel
off the flat roof and to flare the end of the driveway, and it is very, very heavy. And
the pine tree branches I spy just outside my window are drooping as if they were
ashamed of the F I gave them and could they please have a C because they have to
keep up their GPA for their scholarship and I know I didn't do any work but I really
loved this class. But there seems to be some projecting in there.
But, before all this happened, we had our January thaw. Which was perfect timing,
given what month it is. We had two nice mostly sunny days in the mid and upper 40s,
and that meant I was able to take brief naps on the side porch, with the cats at bay
(it's dogs that bay at the moon, silly). That was followed immediately by the current
slopfest.
And meanwhile. Yesterday I became free, or at least free enough to put my head (and
part of each of my arms) fully into that teaching thing. Free in the sense that I wrote
every bit of music I really had to write during this vacation, and I executed my fifth
double bar since I turned in my fall term grades. This means that "I was writing
music" is the underlying subtext (redundant, Davy. Get a grip) of everything I bain
doing, but there is, of course, more. For some reason, I feel the need to end this
paragraph MWA ha ha! MWA ha ha! There. I said it twice.
When last we checked in, I was writing an orchestra piece specifically contracted to
"steal" Beethoven's Fifth. Here I get to say that that was one of the five double bars
thus executed during this vacation. Beff used a Them What Make Channel aphorism

for her title (Winter Weather Advisory), so I did, too, because, you know, why not? So
the orchestra piece is called Current Conditions, and is about five minutes long. I
have already received, and deposited, the commission check. Which was FEDEXED to
me! Best part -- I don't have to do the parts.
Then it was albatross time. As has been reported here, Rhonda Rider asked me some
while ago for a nice little piece, and I said yes, and figured I'd do a little 3-minute
crowd pleaser for 4 cellos. I blocked off some time around the October Brandeis
holidays to work on it, and inexplicably, Mr. Serious took over my brain. I had written
a 6-minute sturm and drang kind of piece and had my V-8 moment that it wasn't
beginning music I had written, but ending music. Sigh. Time to balance it with a slow
movement and a beginning music movement. Me being me, I made the movement
beginnings very similar, but ... it took but two days to write a passable slow
movement (passable in the sense that if you eat it, you will crap it, too) and about a
week for the first movement. And now I am free of it! And the here's-three-no-sixteen
minutes thing has to stop. I mean, imagine being an elevator operator ... "take me to
the third floor" "here you are, sir, sixteenth floor". Is that hyperbole, metaphor, or just
dumb?
So besides the earning of a beer daily by writing enough to deserve one, there has
been some various walks with Beff -- whose classes began a week ago -- and the Cast
Iron Kitchen, and the dreaded yearly tax return calculations. The tax return stuff eats
away a lot of otherwise usable time, but it just hasta be done, you know? So Beff
spend an afternoon putting the receipts into piles of similar intent or material
similarity, and together we spent another afternoon compiling the itemized lists, and
then it was my turn to tabulate the amounts and tabulate all the house expenses,
etc. This year, though, the going through the bank statements thing got easier, since
our bank lets us have PDFs of our statements, which makes them searchable on the
computer, PLUS the online bill pay keeps a record of 18 months worth. So instead of
rooting through 12 envelopes for utility payments, there they all were. What did I do
with all the time I saved? Well, obviously I deserved a beer.
Beff and I also took our financial guys' advice, and recommendation, and started the
official process of doing the will and the health care proxy. Plus a few other pro forma
forms (hence the name) to keep blah blah blah and all that. That involved a trip to
Boston and an elevator to the 19th floor of One Financial Center, and thus a nice
Asian meal in Porter Square. Not to mention a nice view of Boston Harbor. So the blah
blah blah will be happening soon, and then we will pay for it. Blah blah blah costs less
than Current Conditions paid, but not by a lot. Our lawyer, by the way, has a name
that is a homonym with the name of one of my best former students.
Oh yeah, and the four cello thing. Sweet, too. It's for Rhonda Rider "and her
constellation", and she plans on doing it with her cello seminar at Music from Salem
(New York) in June -- and it will be played FROM SCORE. Which means no partextraction, woo hoo over here over and over and over again. Which is nice, since I
spent the sun's-not-up-yet part of this morning doing the parts for AhChim AnGae,
the piece for Korean fiddle and string trio from way back last summer. Parts are no
fun, but at least they have "art" in them. Or as a high-paid idea guy would say, you
can't have parts without art. And then he would choose bad fonts. Maybe I would add
that you can make parts with strap, but why would you? I haven't decided what this
paragraph is about yet, so I'll just stop right here. No I won't. You can't have sturm
und drang without strum and gnard.
Oh yeah, and the title of the four cellos piece. It had the working title of Cello Shots,
which is only funny when the moon is in a certain phase. I had an e-mail exchange

with Rick Moody about a name, and we massaged the options into: 'Cell'Out. It's my
only title with two apostrophes AND which begins with one AND in which one is
preceded and followed by letters without any space. That is definitely the first time I
ever typed that particular sentence. Definitely, definitely.
So in 48 hours or so I will be back in the teaching saddle, which if you really think
about it is kind of an icky metaphor. It'll be a similar kind of situation to last term -Theory 2 and about 8 private students -- except this is the composing semester in
Theory 2, and that means massive extra office hours on my part. Though in 48 hours,
we will be listening to Nuages and trying to start a conversation about how you talk
about it and how you analyze it. For the second time in this update, I feel compelled
to end a paragraph with MWA ha ha.
Upcoming -- going to Chicago in about three weeks. My appointment with the NY
accountant is February 17, during our Brandeis vacation. March seems to be mostly
empty. Oh, and graduate admissions, and, and ... well, of course, plenty of writing of
letters for various peoples. And see the green links on the left of stuff writed during
this vacation -- the flutude from December, being from December, is, like, way long
ago, and thus gone.
Today's pictures include my Aldwell/Schachter textbook getting the fate it deserved
(after the Theory class took swings at it with an axe), Saturday's version of Beff's
grand slam breakfast, the entire sketch of Current Conditions, Sunny's tracks toward
the gazebo that he then thought better of, and the cats continuing to love my sister's
holiday gift box. Bye.
JANUARY 30 Breakfast was Trader Joe's French toast, bacon, coffee and orange juice.
Dinner was salmon teriyaki and garlic spinach. Lunch was the Cast Iron Kitchen steak
sandwich, salad, and puff pastry pizzas (which we were not asked to say five times
fast). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 5.0 and 55.0. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS a funk tune whose name I don't know but whose
refrain is "get up on the dance floor" and which is by Grand Central Station. LARGE
EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE car payments, mortgages, cell phone bills ... bill for
half a winter's driveway and sidewalk snow removal, $180. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY whomever is in charge of getting the Nov 20
performance recording of Mikronomicon to me, which I still do not have. COMPANIES
THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY the NECN Weather person who correctly
predicted, 24 hours in advance, a snow squall with rapid accumulation moving
through here between 5 and 6 pm on Thursday. PET PEEVE drivers who don't stop for
pedestrians at crosswalks--actually, only when I am that pedestrian. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Beff and I, and Lee Blasius, and others, were in the pit
band for a Princeton production of L'Histoire du Soldat, with sets by Michael Graves
and a professional cast. The Devil was played by Mark Metcalf, also known as
Niedermayer in Animal House, Obnoxious Guy in the Twisted Sister videos, and The
Master on Buffy. One night Beff kept the band together when the conductor got lost,
and another night I recognized The Devil came in a bar late and so I did, too, thus
avoiding calamity. After one rehearsal, Metcalf handed me a note from Patti that read
"after rehearsal, take a flying fuck", and he said, "I hope you know what that means."
I did. It was our name for the jumbled-up sculpture in front of the library. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now that it's cold
again, the cats sit in the windows facing the sun, plaintively gesturing for us to open
the windows. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Compositions,
Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: scerainon, a substitute for rubbing
alcohol in certain Asian countries before it was discovered to be tasty to cockroaches.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:

7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can lock my legs in the lotus
position and walk on my knees. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Half-moustaches. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,411. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.67 in Maynard. A FEW THINGS THAT WOULD BE ABOUT AS
EFFECTIVE A PRESIDENT AS THE CURRENT ONE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk,
manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.
Triskadekaphobia has nothing on me. It's had its way with truffle snatchers, but it
could never sing vowels in tune -- at least not the ones we found in the clover. Now
that the dogs have been let into the lighthouse, I suppose snatching an extra Post-It
is not only out of the question, it's also something to be savored in soft focus. So then
the lights went out, and we ate them.
Dear reader, I have the strange pleasure to report that it is sunny outside as I type
this, though my usual line of sight that includes the south-facing window in the
computer room is pretty a-covered in ice condensation. The sort of thing that's
charming on a Currier and Ives postcard, somewhat nuisancy otherwise. I can see,
though, that it's sunny, and that the usual places that become barren of snow earliest
are becoming so yet again. And it's cold -- 7 degrees, according to my Weather Bug.
But, since I rag on Them What Make so much (because deserving being ragged on is
so oftenly being done by them), I will repeat my compliment, and its complement,
first noted the upper section. The beginning of this week was rather warm for this
time of year -- a big rainstorm accompanied by temps in the mid-50s -- and it was still
above average by midweek. Then Them What Make predicted a cold front passing
through with really cold air, triggering some very light snow showers and a squall or
two. On Wednesday's 5:30 show on NECN, the weather person said "and probably
just before the front passes, there will be a snow squall with a quick half inch or so in
the western suburbs between 5 and 6". So then on Thursday, Derek J came over at 5
for a consultation on his dissertation (since, duh, I am his dissertation advisor), and
the yards were a little frosty from the snow showers and the roads bare. We spent an
hour looking at his piece, and at 6 we looked out, saw that it was clear, but with a
half inch of new fluffiosity outside, and the roads looked slippery. Well done, Them
What Used to Make and Will Still Make.
But digressing is being done by me. Beff's schedule and mine are complex to the
edge of believability coming up -- indeed, Beff was trapped in Maine last weekend
due to a concert by her faculty ensemble (one of my electric violin pieces was on it -the one marked "Fumando", to which a Beffleague (conflation of Beff and colleague)
remarked, "Do you think Davy meant 'smokin''?" and I like typing four consecutive
punctuation marks). Beff will be hosting David Feuerzeig at U Maine in two weeks,
and then giving a concert at UVM in four weeks -- for which she has just pulled out
the E-flat clarinet and is practicing my "The Squeaky Wheel". Obviously a piece I
wrote in order to use the title, and what it is, too. February 25 in Burlington, Vermont,
and she's doing some of her own music, too, and some flute and clarinet stuff with
her colleague Liz -- who by process of elimination can be discovered to be a flautist.
And since that paragraph was typed, I drove Beff to the South Acton commuter rail
station so that she can make Flip video for a piece she's writing for orchestra and
video. The underlying visual motif is trains, and she's already got a whole mess o'
train movies I made in Bogliasco, and some in Harvard station, and she decided she
wanted a view of the tracks from the POV of, I guess, the engineer. So she's on that
train to get that POV. This Tuesday, I had tried getting a similar movie along the
tracks at a nearby crossing from one of our bike rides. As in, I walk along the tracks
and film, and this is something like what they did for the forest scenes in the Return

of the Jedi. The idea being, speed it up a lot and it'll be like being in a train. Well, no -with the gravel and snow on the tracks to step on, around, and over, my movies sped
up are more like being a Bobblehead engineer on the train. If Beff ever does a
bobblehead visual motive, she's already got starter movies.
In any case. Beff wants to let you, dear reader, know that there seems to be sufficient
compression of the steam within our forced-steam radiator heating system that when
it revs up, the knocking is loud, loud, loud and "last night's sleeping was like sleeping
in the middle of a percussion ensemble." Well, a percussion ensemble with fractal
rhythms and only one kind of articulation, sure. What the fractal?
In the meantime, a new semester started, while another one was trickling to an end
-- Incompletes from the fall being resolved -- and my teaching schedule is nearly
identical to last semester, except just a bit longer on Mondays, as Jared's lesson
melts into an independent study on Dutilleux's Metaboles. A great, great piece, by
the way. And in Theory 2, after a WTF day listening to and trying to come up with
ways to talk about Nuages (it's by Debussy, dontcha know), we embarked severely
on the Variations unit. MWA ha ha, and sorry, that just sorta slipped out. In these
composition units this semester, it means much less regular grading, but many more
scheduled extra office hours with which to compensate. You will, Oscar, you will. This
Monday we shall hear the Schumacher variations, and what it is, they are, and have
been, MWA ha ha.
Last week was being the week of the BMOP winds concert, which included the east
coast premiere of Harold Meltzer's concerto for piano and winds -- with Ursula
Oppens as the soloist. Indeed, Harold's rehearsals began on Tuesday -- the day before
my first class -- and that afternoon he drove here, we went to the Cast Iron Kitchen,
he stayed in the guest room, and I left for school before he even got up. I am that
way. All evidence points to him having left a little bit later, having had very little of
the coffee I made. On Friday the BMOP show happened, and I got into Boston a bit
early in order to do the Pru and Newbury Street and dinner at the Pour House.
Indeed, dinner at the Pour House is extremely cheap, and the beers are the size of
your head, AND I used to go there often with Julie K regularly, about 25 years ago.
And of course, I am clever enough to know not to tell my 20-year-old waitress, "hey, I
used to come her a lot, five years before you were born ..."
Anyway, the BMOP show had the customary pre-show dialogue with all the
composers available, which in this case was this list: Harold. Marti Epstein was the
interviewer, and the questions and answers were more or less standard issue -'ceptin' the part about lawyers who become composers. The concert itself was
brilliant, and I listened from the balcony. Where I also sat. And there was a weird-ass
Grainger piece to end the first half which began with an organ sound that made it
seem as if Whiter Shade of Pale was going to be what was to follow.
At this point, I direct the reader to a few common expressions nowadays, which are
the ATM Machine and the PIN Number. Which, unpacked, yield the Automatic Teller
Machine Machine and the Personal Identification Number Number. I tell you this by
way of noting that the ICE ensemble is in residence at Brandeis this weekend, where
they will play a "rep" concert, a grad student composers concert, and do readings on
Monday for undergraduates. So the ICE Ensemble -- the International Contemporary
Ensemble Ensemble -- is reputed to be among the best in the world, and how could
we afford them in this economy? Well, the grad students who booked them said,
"we'll take five, please. And let them be guitar, piano, flute, clarinet, and percussion".
And what has my part in this grand scheme been? I'm glad I asked me that. I have
been teaching the students writing for this performance, and answering most

technical questions about guitar writing with the standard "how the frack should I
know?" Plus, with the reading to happen on Monday, I have solicited my undergrad
composition students to submit scores. Yes, I was being quite solicitous.
Lurching back to the Harold experience. Whenever I talk with Harold, he always has a
list of bizarre piano etude suggestions, many of which seem tailored to a title. This
time was no exception. Case in point: how about a prepared piano etude where only
the B-flats are prepared? (the error here is that it should be the B's -- read further) It
could be called Preparation H. (rim shot, and see, B is what Germans call H, silly).
Then he also suggested a knocking and hitting etude simply to be called "Knock
Knock". That one seemed silly enough to pursue (and since I'm no longer pursuing
my PhD nor pursing my lips, my purs- time is pretty free). But me no likee that
particular title, especially since knocking is not as nice a sound as hitting -- from the
pianist's standpoint. Still, though -- I thought of calling such a piece Knock Turn, but
Harold rightly pointed out that that thing is all over Harry Potter, including the toy
section of amazon. So, I decided to call it Knocksville. Even though I was, for a while,
considering Tutti I Battuti (Italian for all the hits). A fair amount of time writing it
consisted of deciding on the notations for where and how to hit and making a Key -and then, while writing, remembering them all. But I squeezed the piece out in my
non-teaching time (obviously), and there's a link to the score and MIDI up there's on
the left. The MIDI is fun -- since with the piano sound it arpeggiated an F major 7
chord. I retooled it to play the standard MIDI gunshot sound (helicopter just didn't cut
it, which I guess is a weird kinda pun), which is way funnier. AND would not fit in as
well with the first bar of "Colour My World".
Now I mentioned earlier that we've had some warm-ass weather here. So warm, in
fact, that most of the snow, at least that in the sunnier places, had left and gone
away, Joltin' Joe-like. With the warmth persisting for the first half of this week, it was
perfect for me to go out and start to clean up the proliferation of many, many fallen
pine cones. Indeed, I collected half a barrels worth, which I now officially add to the
fall 2009 leaf raking total to yield 109 barrels. SO FAR. Because there are still many
pine cones up to pick, the long tail (but not the ears for hats) of the fall 2009 raking
season will overlap somewhat with First Crocuses season.
But also with respect to the weather, there was a nuisance storm of great heaviness
on the day before classes started, with many things coinciding. The Maids, who clean
our house monthly, came at 9:30 in the morning, so I skedaddled out to Trader Joe's
for provisions and to get firewood on the way back. Meanwhile, a sloppy snowstorm
started, and began accumulating. When I got back, the Maids car was still at the top
of the driveway, the bottom of the driveway was blocked by a Maynard Door and
Window truck, and two guys were taking off some old storm windows and putting
new ones on. In the snowstorm. So, off I parked on a side street, asked the guys to
get out of the way when the Maids left and to let me in my own garage, and much
running and maneuvering happened at that point. A big avalanche of snow fell off the
roof, missing the guys by a few inches, and then they had to shovel a path on the
back porch roof to get to the upstairs bathroom window, the last window they were
replacing. And again they just missed a roof snow avalanche. But now the northfacing rooms downstairs are now brighter, and so is the upstairs bathroom.
Fascinating.
And not one, not two, but three times in this reporting period -- I napped on the sun
porch with the cats. All the spring fever that welled up with those naps has been
crushed by today's 5-degree weather.
With complicated scheduling stuff upcoming for both of us, Beff is taking the cats to

Maine either this weekend or next, AND I'm going to Maine at the beginning of my
February break to bring them back -- while, incidentally, seeing Beff's colleagues and
eating out. And now the next piece on the docket -- a Davy-tinged piano styling of
"Ladies Who Lunch." I love these weird commissions.
Today's pictures is the back yard with much snow gone, the view out the computer
room window this morning, Knocksville as it looked while I was writing it, the path to
the bathroom window on the little roof, a bit of the class-made list of ways to vary
themes on the board, and Goldie Celeste (soon to become an older sister) trying out
the ACTUAL toy piano used in the Piano Concerto recording (from Marilyn's cell). Bye.
FEBRUARY 15 Breakfast was nothing. Lunch was a can of Campbell's Chunky Chicken
soup. Dinner last night was Buffalo tenders, the grilled Teri Tuna Sandwich, and fries,
at the Sea Dog Brewery in Bangor. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 8.8
and 42.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Ladies Who Lunch.
LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE taxis in Chicago, $140, lunch for 4 in Chicago
$180, Logan airport parking $88. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES
IN GLORY the crab place in Chicago for the exceedingly dry fish taco they served me,
the O'Hare Airport Doubletree for charging EXTRA for wi-fi, and Them What Make for
the 8-inch snowstorm predicted here that turned out to exaggerate by about 1000
percent. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY United Airlines, for
TWICE getting my bag on the baggage carousel before I arrived at it, and cab
companies in Chicago for giving me long rides in a 10-inch snowstorm. PET PEEVE my
personal lack of omniscience. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: On the first full
day of the Rome Prize year, the Fellows in residence were assembled in the Tapestry
Room in a semicircle for introductions, and all were asked to give a five-minute, at
most, presentation on what they planned to do in the year in Rome. Several scholars
and artists were before me, and they mostly talked about going to the Vatican for
research and splurted names and dates that would only make any sense to me later
as I got to know those Fellows. Nathan Currier, the other composer, went before me,
talked about something I forgot, and went to the piano to play a movement of a piano
sonata of his -- thus far exceeding his five minutes. When it was my turn, my entire
spiel was, "I'm David Rakowski, I'm a composer, and I'm going to make stuff up". No
one chastized me for ending my sentence with a preposition, and neither did those
who followed me follow my model of brevity. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST
WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They made the trip to Bangor and back, and
Sunny became The Lump In the Bed during the day. Now that they're back, they want
to look out EVERY WINDOW and go through EVERY DOOR. UPDATED ON THIS SITE
THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: stooscy
("stooshy" in the Southern dialect), the tendon on the very back of the shoulder
blade. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO
WEEKS: 8. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE my forehead is pretty
flat, hence the CD cases I can stick to it. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I
WERE IN CHARGE: Tried and true becomes mysterious and false. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,434. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.79 in Maynard,
$2.63 in Bangor, $2.53 in Maynard. A FEW THINGS THAT WOULD BE ABOUT AS
EFFECTIVE A PRESIDENT AS THE CURRENT ONE sticky gold stars, the corner of the
bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Dear reader, today I do no dada -- and that sounds like it should be a palindrome, and
if it isn't, then why not? Much travelage was accomplished by he who is I in the last
two weeks, and much of it was not even predicted in the last update. So lemme
splain.

The International Contemporary Ensemble Ensemble was in residence at the 'Deis the
last time I was typing here, and they gave two concerts. The Saturday night concert
was the "rep" concert -- all the rep was very, very notey and dazzlingly performed,
and with one exception, it was dullsville stuff. The Sunday night concert was student
works, which was again dazzlingly played, and showed a very wide range from our
grad and undergrad students. The International Contemporary Ensemble Ensemble's
performers who came were all exceedingly nice people as well as hot caca
performers, and were nice out with which to hang at the post-concert reception. On
the Monday after, they also did a reading session for undergraduates that were
interested, as well, as a reading of one of the pieces being written for the Sunday
concert that didn't get finished in time. It was more hot caca in evidence, and the
recordings came out nicely as well. Yoni, a freshman, remarked that the high school
players he'd given his duo to couldn't come close to playing it, while the ICE people
read it down perfectly. I missed out on the second half of the reading due to a
composition lesson (I was giving it), as well as the Advice For Composers session
about which nothing had been known, in advance, by me.
And then it was onto the mundaneness of my actual job (you know -- teaching,
grading, teaching, etc.), and that even included getting Jeremy S to sub for my
Theory 2 class on Monday the 8th while I was in the central time zone (it's just this
thing I like to do) during a chat at the after-concertness on Sunday. Then there was
the actual teaching, which when you are looking at existing variations and critiquing
variations being written by class members is hella fun. We even used a laser pointer
for reasons that are a bit complicated to explain here. By complicated, I of course
mean dumb.
And on the Sunday of the second ICE concert, Beff made her traditional trek back to
Bangor, and with the cats. Because of my complex travel schedule (well, not
complex, just considerable), it was either get Janine to look in daily and feed them, or
give them more of the Bangor experience (thus making them appreciate even more
the Maynard experience, and what it is, too). This meant that when she came for a
day and a half of the weekend that followed, it was she who was abandoning the cats
and not I. MWA ha ha, I always say, even when it's not germane. Especially when it's
not germane. And of course on that day and a half we did the Cast Iron Kitchen (woo
hoozers!) and took some of our usual walks. She had to go back early on Saturday to
get to a recital, and that was fine, since I was to leave for the airport at (oh lawdy)
6:45 am on Sunday. You may find this hard to believe, dear reader, but I did just that.
And so I was going to Chicago because on Monday the 8th the Chicago Chamber
Musicians -- a local professional group that gives lots of concerts -- were giving a
Composer Perspective concert curated by Lee Hyla, and he programmed three of his
pieces, the Crumb Eleven Echoes, and my Hyperblue. I had originally been tapped to
spend February 8 and 9 in Santa Cruz for an external review panel (joysville), but
since that got postponed, I got to do Chicago instead. And do it I did, sort of by
definition. And so I flew to Chicago in an eventless flight, maneuvered through the
labyrinth of O'Hare to get my bag -- which had already been on the carousel long
enough to start collecting dust -- caught a cab to Lee and Kate's place in the
meatpacking district, and when I and the cab got there, I and my bags went in. Thus I
got to reunite with our former Camry, parked outside, and see their "new" place in an
old warehouse -- a beautiful and tastefully decorated place with views of the Sears
Tower, and with 15 foot ceilings. Hot diggity. We got Kate'skype up and a-running
(including a call with Beff) and fixed her OS X e-mail, and then she took me to
Roosevelt University for my Hyperblue rehearsal.
And so she did. The rehearsal was on the 14th floor, meaning taking an elevator,

walking halfway around the building, and taking another elevator, and the room has a
heating fan that made lots of noise, thus making it hard to rehearse soft stuff. But I
met the players in my trio, got to hear them play, made voluminous comments
(which is unlike me -- but since they were already sounding great it was easy to layer
in some nuances), and then Lee and I cabbed it back Leewards. For you see -- there
was then a Super Bowl party to get to, and it was at Bernard and Gusty's place. Woo
hoo! As I recall, Lee was for the Saints, and I didn't care who won as long as
Indianapolis lost, and we both got our wish. As for other ironic context, I had first met
Bernard properly in 1986 at a Super Bowl party -- this one at my apartment in
Brookline. Patriots 10, Bears 44.
So we all three cabbed it (I was to take lots of cabs on this trip) to Gusty's, started the
festivities, took pix of HER view (she has the lake and the south of Chicago, among
other things), and started the consumption of consumables. As usual, more food was
available than was necessary. And Stacy and Joe then came, then Amy B, and Adam
Marks. So it was a Davy-fest in a way, and as fun as fun can be. I had lots of uncured
pepperoni and cucumbers, and, well, there you have it. I spent a not insignificant
portion of the game in the living room having conversations about stuff I don't recall
-- but I was in the room for the interception that sealed the Colts's fate as well as
soiling Peyton Manning's legacy (which may be a euphemism, dunno). And then we
had a brief drink on the way home, and cabbed it back. I then slept.
Monday morning was a proliferation of dress rehearsals, and it was great to hear
Lee's pieces twice that day -- including a piece called "Warble", which is, as far as I
know, the only Lee Hyla piece I have ever been entirely comfortable describing as
"charming". Wilson's Ivory Bill, one of my favorite pieces of all-time by any composer
living or dead, was on the program, and after the rehearsals Lee and Kate and Lee's
singer and I ate at a crab place to the north (except for the fish taco, the food was
pretty good, and Kate kept apologizing for the slow service). Then there was the drive
back home in our old Camry, naps, and then getting to the gig itself -- first Stacy
moderated a talk with Lee and then Lee and me, and we answered questions as eptly
as we could. The concert itself was a smash, there was pizza at the reception, and
the U of Chicago faculty who were in attendance didn't seem to be able to find me
afterwards.
Then we went home and slept. Tuesday morning Lee took the Metra to Evanston for
his teaching, and a snowstorm of unusual proportion began. Kate and I walked
around in it while she explained various aspects of the meatpacking district (pig's
heads play a rather large part, dear reader, both in actuality and in cartoon), we had
lovely sandwiches and wine, and by the time six inches had fallen, I took a cab to
Northwestern to give a colloquium. Which I did, apparently to much secret weeping
and gnashing of teeth by them what were in attendance of it. After said colloquium,
Lee got me to a cab to get to the Airport Doubletree, which in now 10 inches of snow
and still falling, was quite a harrowing little ride. I had spicy Bloody Maries there,
caprese, and cheeseburger sliders, asked for a 3:45 wakeup call, and got the 4:15
shuttle to the airport offered by the Doubletree -- who, by the way, charged $11.34
extra (plus tax) for wi-fi.
Now the snowstorm was over in Chicago, but it was on its way east, and all flights to
DC, NYC, and North Carolina were cancellato (as they say in Italy -- or probably tutti i
voli eranno cancellati). But not Boston, which had a Winter Storm Warning for eight
inches of snow, starting in the afternoon. So I and my fellow United passengers flew
over the storm, thus beating it to Boston, I got my bag -- collecting dust again -- and
hightailed it to Brandeis for my Wednesday teaching. I made it to my 11 am lesson
with six minutes to spare. Mid-lesson, Brandeis decided to close at 1 for the

snowstorm (it was still just flurries outside). So I did my noon lesson, e-mailed my
Theory 2 class, now cancelled, and drove home, cheerful that I was beating the big
snow --- by a lot, it turns out. Final tally in Maynard: a bit less than an inch. I was able
to go outside after the storm and BLOW the sidewalks clean. But I swept them
nonetheless.
Thursday was a day of makeup lessons and office hours for Theory 2 students, as well
as a department meeting. Then home came I to pack and so forth. But first there was
a makeup lesson at 8:30 via Skype which was way fun, since we utlized the "screen
share" feature. And on Friday I had a makeup lesson and a drive to Bangor. Why? It
was how I was going to get to Bangor. For Friday night, David Feurzeig from UVM was
giving a free ragtime/stride/Bach piano recital. Who could pass that up? And so there
it was, it was great, and David stayed at our little ol' place with his daughter Zoe. We
bought them pizza at Pat's while the opening ceremonies from the Olympics went on,
and home we went. Next day was a tour of Bangor (eight minutes) followed by them
driving back to Vermont. And Beff and I had dinner in downtown with Liz and Denny,
and with Chip and Charlie at the Sea Dog the next day. Midst a bunch of shopping -had to get a new electric razor, for instance, since the old one was broken to the
point of cutting me when I shaved, as well as olive antipasto, Bodum bistro coffee
makers, etc.
And this morning I drove back, cats in ... hand? ... and they were happy to be able to
look outside and go outside, etc. I went into Brandeis for Brandeis biz, and back I am
now, typing this update while the yards are nearly clear of snow, and it is dusk
outside. The rest of this week I am on vacation, but will be going on Wednesday to
New York for our yearly tax meeting with Jonathan, and will be staying with Marilyn
and George and Goldie -- returning Thursday. Woo hoo! Then Beff's back, we do the
Cast Iron Kitchen on Friday, and all is well. Time to get out my recording of Ladies
Who Lunch and transcribe it.
Meanwhile, Rick Moody has been doing a monthly music blog for some time now, and
a few days ago he did an entry about me. It's an aw shucks kind of thing for me, but
certainly it's some of the best writing and writing about music you'll encounter. See
"Therumpus" link up there and to the left. I could sure use some pizza.
Upcoming. Stuff. No more travel till April, so that's good, in a non-traveling sort of
way. Lent begins this Wednesday, and like last year, I am giving up Facebook for Lent.
Not because I am devout enough to give up stuff for Lent. It's just that it's good every
once in a while to have an ironclad reason not to waste time with Facebook. Which I
like. But which I loathe. They both begin with L. And we have a Winter Storm Watch
for tomorrow for 2-4, 4-6, 3-6 or 3-8 inches of snow, depending on which Them What
Make webpage you look at. Dadburn Alberta Clippers that pick up extra moisture
from the Gulf of Maine, I curse thee ...
The first two of this week's pix were taken on Gusty's camera at the Super Bowl party
-- Gusty, Amy, me, and Me, Amy, Kate. Dunno why I am so pink. Next, the snow cover
shots of Maynard and Bangor (not much, eh DC readers?). Then Sunny in Bangor
above the covers and below them. Then Beff, David Feurzeig and Zoe in our dining
room Saturday morning. And finally, a pic by Laura Schwendinger of me and a writer
whose name will occur to me later, in the fountain in the mansion at Yaddo in June,
2007. Bye.
FEBRUARY 28 Breakfast was Trader Joes french toast, blueberries, orange juice, and
coffee. Dinner last night was steak tips from Shaws and Polish fries. Lunch was Trader
Joes shrimp tempura. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.0 and 48.7.

MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Give Me Your Love", Tower of
Power. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE heating oil $452, Whole Foods $106.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The United States
Postal Service, for managing to smash into several pieces the CD of Mikronomicon
before delivering it to me; and Merrill Lynch for taking so long to get the 1099s to us
-- after our tax appointment, even. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY The Pickle Guys, for the exceedingly fine picklage absconded from New York.
PET PEEVE people who toss trash out of their cars onto Great Road so that we have to
pick it up. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The first day I taught at Brandeis I
wore a suit and tie, always knowing that it would never happen again. Marty was
amused, and made it part of Brandeis lore for many years to follow. In years to follow,
I always dress down on any day of teaching that precedes Labor Day, since I think
teaching before Labor Day is dumb. I'd say at least half of those first days I taught in
shorts and a t-shirt. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS
TO REPORT: The stretchy version of Cammy on the bed in the morning, and the
hanging out by the little catnip patch and nuzzling it in back. UPDATED ON THIS SITE
THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 4, Reviews 5, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: bloudge, unclear whether it means being poked with an elbow, or the concept
of elbowness itself. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have
earlobes of size. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE:
Everybody buys the score of Hyperblue and says, "Hmmm." PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 14,484. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.09 in Connecticut, $2.59
in Maynard. A PARTIAL LIST OF THINGS THAT DON'T RHYME WITH "WART" sticky gold
stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
One for the money, six for the tent, lollipops for the intransigent, and then we make
pie. To negotiate the stream of pipe, haven't they traditionally turned into starch, or
at least found the megabyte of independence from earlier? Because it occurs to me
that when triple tap water is converted from plastic, the end of a cigarette butt
suffers.
But really. It is another Sunday morning with the unusual quality of a bit of sunshine
out there. Weather has been all over the place -- in fact, no matter where you go,
there it is -- and we here in eastern central southern New England haven't had as
much as a lot of people have had. Nonetheless, Them What Make have been busy
getting it mostly right, except when it counts getting it mostly terribly, terribly wrong.
The eight inches equals one inch storm was noted here earlier. The storm coming the
Tuesday after Valentine's Day, and thus after the most recent posting here, was all
over the map on the forecasts, even moment by moment. In the end, there were
eight heavy inches, necissitating a future payment of $45 for snow removal, but I'm
worth it. And this last week has been quite weatherful, since some sort of blocking
pattern caused a storm to loop-the-loop over us, giving a foot and a half of snow to
New York and about three or four inches of RAIN to us here -- indeed, the Flood
Warnings on the Them What Make page go onto another page. The Assabet has been
at flood stage, and that's good for agribusiness --- if there were any over here at all.
But in this weird upside-down February, we continue to have bare lawns while to the
south of us they count the snow in feet. As a sidebar, I've been counting my feet in
snow for many years, and I always get two.
I did my February vacation thing (or in common parlance, my vacation), which
included staying home on Tuesday because of the snow. I had spent idle time on
Monday transcribing Ladies Who Lunch, as well as going out to lunch precisely
because I am worth it. But on Wednesday I up and drove to Manhattan, and this time
not because I am worth it. For you see, I had a 12:30 appointment in midtown with

Jonathan to do our taxes, and it was the usual whirlwind: he always gets a bit behind
because he loves to chat, and there's another guy in the office doing the beezywork
of entering the more mundane numbers into the return. And then the fun of
explaining why there's a new car purchase, codifying energy-saving deductions (turns
out the new windows and new porch door qualify -- woo hoo!), and on and on. And
then -- I could have driven back right then and there (well, not there, but then...), but
Marilyn and George (and Goldie) had made a standing invitation (the chairs were in
the shop) for me to stay there, and even at eight months pregnant Marilyn wanted to
do it. So there was a fun evening of pizza and artichoke dip, learning about Goldie,
watching the parenting happen, and all. And my route there included walking just
about the entire length of Canal Street -- thus brushing the edge of Chinatown and
the entrance to the Manhattan Bridge. I was a bit early, so I checked out the
neighborhood, including the ingestment of a Bloody Mary in an Irish pub, and a side
trip down Essex Street that revealed -- The Pickle Guys!
Ah yes, The Pickle Guys. I had read about them in the NYTimes and had ordered
pickles from them, which I liked, but they got the orders wrong both times, and the
shipping costs were astronomical, so I hadn't been back. BUT, my friends, dear
readers, and things that begin with 'x', I relished (to coin a term) the opportunity to
see the, um, retail store as it were. Which basically is a bunch of guys hanging out on
the sidewalk by a fake barrel, going into a room, half the size of my bedroom, of
nothing but barrels, and pointing and drooling. In my case, especially drooling. I
brought a bunch of spicy sour and tomatilloes with me to Marilyn and George and
Goldie's, and brought them back home with me, and have been doing what you are
supposed to do with them. So ... that was cool. I also got to participate in the local
doughnut place, which makes several unusual varieties, including one with rose
petals. Non ti merdo.
So when I got back on Thursday, all the snow had already fallen from the roof and I
had to shovel it (snow falling from the roof happens often after snowstorms, often
very dramatically and with a big noise that makes the cats scurry to get under the
couch), the Maids came to clean the house, and yet again out I went for lunch. I was
worth it, and still am. After which I began my piano styling of Ladies Who Lunch -which begins with a introductory treatment of the main motives that sounds like
Debussy if he had eaten nothing but doughnuts. I don't know what it means either.
Beff then came for her customary short weekend thing, and we did the things we do
when Beff is here for her short weekend thing. This included getting to the Cast Iron
Kitchen right when they open so as to get the booth, taking various walks, and all
that jazz. We raked up pine cones from the back yards, and removed a segment of
the fence that was kind of droopy. Then back went Beff, and little more did I do on my
LWL setting. Since the lawns were now bare (again!), I noticed that there was a
buttload of acorns still in the yard behind the garage, and just walking caused
considerable slippage. So during the day on Sunday I kept making trips outdoors to
rake up and discard pile upon pile of said acorns -- which with the fallen pine cones of
winter's brunt (I like pretentiousness in small doses) added three to the season total
of rakage -- dear reader, we are now at 112. And counting.
For you see, school was about to be back in session, and much was to be done.
Thanks to the fake snowstorm that cancelled class, many additional office hours
needed to be scheduled by me, which I did -- after class on Monday for what seemed
like forever, as well as two hours midday on Tuesday, just before we were to get snow
or rain or rain to snow or snow to rain or rain and snow or sleet and rain. Indeed,
almost hourly the forecast changed. On Tuesday night substantial rain pounded the
house making a sound that you've probably heard before ("the sound of rain", they

call it), and I retired early in order to unretire early. Then at about 10:30 there was
kitty commotion coming from Beff's closet, and eventually I spied dear Sunny with a
mouse in his mouth. What I saw was actually the mouse's tail, but you get the idea.
Kitties being kitties, they didn't want to just kill the mouse -- they wanted to play with
it. So around and around ran said mouse, then down the stairs, then up the stairs,
and soon all was still. Back bedwards went I, only to stir a bit at 3:30 -- at which point
I noticed "the sound of rain" was no longer happening -- and I heard a faint scratching
sound in the computer room. The cats, who had returned to the foot of the bed,
sprang to action. Moi-meme, I sighed and followed them, and encountered said
mouse -- looking a bit more like a watercolor painting of a mouse than a mouse
(what's up with that?) -- trapped under the subwoofer of my computer speakers.
Gently I picked it up, using a towel, and outed it via the window. At which point I
noticed everything outside was white. So ... well, I was awake, so ... I did laundry.
And since my first comp student had cancelled, I didn't need to go in so early. Thus,
outside I went into the slop storm and shoveled two cementy inches of wet
snow/sleet/rain. I put the laundry in the dryer. I made coffee. I had breakfast. And still
it was before sunrise. So, wet, tired, achy, I went in eventually and did my teaching.
By the time of my Brandeis escape, the precip was heavy rain, and with all the new
whiteness, there was plenty of ponding on the roads, so it was just like a motorboat
ride home. I think I even had my own wake, and I could easily have taken a hitchhiker
on skis home. There's nowhere else to go with this joke.
Meanwhile, this same big rainstorm was much, much snow to the north and west,
and Beff and Liz were supposed to drive to Burlington, Vermont to give a concert. Uh
uh, said the weather. So they rescheduled for March 31. And because of that
rescheduling, Beff and I will be interviewed, this afternoon, for the Vermont classical
station. Who knows why?
Geoffytime is back with us, so much Musica Viva stuff is getting done -- concert
coming up, as well as concerts in England, where Mikronomicon gets its east of the
Atlantic premiere on the 27th. But am I bitter? Lick me and find out. No, wait ... So
Geoffy was here for a rehearsal (luckily his drive was mostly on the rain side of the
storm), and to commemorate that, Musica Viva FINALLY -- after more than three
months -- sent me the CD of their November premiere of Mikronomicon. And when I
opened the mailing bag, was less than happy to see that the USPS had managed to
smash the case and CD inside it. Thankfully, when I asked for another, it got here
right away (yesterday), and -- dudes and dudettes, you can see the score with the
black link above and hear the three movements with the yellow links. As you may
hear, the piano on which Geoff played could accurately be called "kindling".
Nonetheless, it's pretty good for an underrehearsed first performance.
And Beff got here Friday morning, since the Vermont concert was cancelled. So we
got to the Cast Iron Kitchen sufficiently late that we didn't get a booth, and we paid
the last one-fifth of our winter's heating oil and scheduled regular furnace
maintenance (currently the system overfills with water such that the pipes knock
loudly when the heat comes on -- I hate it when that happens), and we took a nice
walk. And yesterday I graded eight of the variations assignments that were handed in
for Theory 2. So there. More to come.
Meanwhile, I'd heard nothing from Eastman about this thing I've been contracted to
do in mid-April, so I was psychologically making that time free -- since Phillis Levin
Songs is on in New York the following Monday -- but no, just in the nick of time, I got
contacted yesterday about it, and ... woo hoo, April is the cruellest month! Kuhl. I will
be driving there after class on the day before, thus getting there in the dark. I also

realized, quite belatedly, that the big big big student composer concert coming up on
May 8 is one I can't make. For you see, dear reader, the day before I will be driving to
DC for "Current Conditions", and driving back on the day AFTER that concert will
subsequently be done by me. Whoop tee doo, I always say, and that's French. So I'm
making my apologies now.
And at the 'Deis, Cheryl moved from mailbox central to Scott's old office -- as Scott
and Ingrid moved to Bernstein-Marcus -- and an old, old photo of Yehudi and me, ca.
1998, was found stuck inside one of the drawers of her desk. It was awarded to me
with a Post-It attached. See below, you lucky dogs. And, and -- well, four more weeks
of teaching till the next vacation, and then they'll be sorry. That's French. No trips in
March, but lots of Geoffy around to kick. And if the date of this year's first crocuses is
matched by last year's, they'll be out in a mere week. I haven't seen any crocus
petals pushing forth yet, but you know. Perhaps on the next update there will be
crocus pictures eerily similar to the ones seen in previous years in this space. And the
scheduled date of the next update is the day we switch to Daylight Savings Time.
Today's pictures start with Sunny nuzzling the catnip patch, followed by an early
morning shot of Cammy in which his eyes glow from the camera's flash. Next, the
Ben Smith dam while the Assabet is in flood stage, Sunny watching Cammy nuzzle
catnip, the bareness of the back yard, The Pickle Guys storefront, some drop pictures,
and said Yehudi and me picture. Bye.

MARCH 13 Breakfast was Shaws lite rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee.
Dinner last night was a grilled chicken salad with avocado, etc., at a Mexican
restaurant in Tivoli, New York. Lunch was half a chicken panino and half a scallop
cake at the Cast Iron Kitchen yesterday. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST
UPDATE 22.6 and 57.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Get Away",
Earth, Wind, and Fire. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE plumber $734, flat
screen TV $426 inc. tax., yardwork stuff at hardware stores $142. COMPANIES THAT
HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Dunn Oil, for telling us there was a
defective "heating coil" in the hot water heater (no such luck), and that the hot water
heater may have to be replaced. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY Bard College Conservatory, for spawning an enthusiastic (and really loud)
audience for mod music; and Best Buy, for prompt assistance with TV purchase
without a hard sell for a more expensive one. PET PEEVE people whose response to
music is couched entirely in political terms. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:
One of the more exhilarating musical experiences of this millennium may have been
on the day of readings of final projects for the undergrad composition course I taught
at Harvard in 2001. Elliott Gyger had done a great job in his small sessions getting
the projects rolling, and a quartet had been hired for a three-hour reading session. It
turned out that at the reading all six pieces needed to be conducted, and we hadn't
secured one. So I stepped in, rehearsed and conducted all three, and excuse me for
breaking my arm while back-patting, I totally ruled. It was pretty exhilarating, and the
recordings came out well. Especially since the players were all really good. And so
given the opportunity to do such a thing again, fill in the blank. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: an occasional silent
meow from Cammy, Sunny obsessed with the far-back neighbor's stored canoe and
the dirt around it, both cats frolicking in the old catnip patch in back. UPDATED ON
THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
criescensce, the art of being dead while seeming to be alive. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE One of the fonts of me and Klaus is apparently
hardwired into some HP printers (I just found that out). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND

WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The truth actually sets you free. PHOTOS IN MY
IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,539. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.56 in Maynard
(Shaws $.10 discount), $2.57 in Maynard (Shaws $.10 discount), $2.97 in Red Hook,
New York. THAT WHICH WAS NOT SPEWED sticky gold stars, the corner of the
bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Triple miles and purple shoes. Neither of them convinced me that I should stop
whining about all the snails. Into which the glass was poured, though, is the piece I
would shoot if I had hands. With blood working into the plastic systems, some of the
other branching algorithms might have to be skewed in favor of the violet revolution;
this is not my problem.
Dear reader, Beff has been on vacation for the last two weeks, and nearly always at
home. Which is a pretty good indicater in and of itself that Beff is on vacation.
Though she was gone for about 50 hours for things in Bangor related to things that
have to be in Bangor. She's back, but soon to be unback. And so much of unusual size
has been accomplished in the last couple of weeks, both creatively for Beff (who has
done the lion's share of work on an orchestra-with-video piece in this time), and
yardly for both of us, thanks to an unusually long string of good weather. And Beff is
so upandat'em that she yearns to read a new update by he who is moi -- even though
she's, like, been living it.
And on the weather front, we begin another one of those typical ohmigod that's a lot
of rain and wind storms as I type this, with both wind and flood warnings up on the
Them What Make pages. Though in the interim, there has been an unusually long
string of beautifully sunny clear days with temps 5 to 15 degrees above seasonal
averages, thus resetting my Spring Fever Gauge from Woo Hoo all the way up to
Zowie Powie. Indeed, this wild wacky upside down winter (yes, it's still winter, for
another week), Beltway weather has spawned numerous additional global warming
skeptics, while New England weather has spawned lots of If This Is Winter I'll Take Two
More Please. Last weekend we spent nearly every moment of daylight outdoors
(except when we didn't), and hey -- the crocus record was shattered yet again.
As I reported last year around this time, the First Crocus date was March 7, shattering
the old record by almost a week. In this reporting period, the first one was spied -and, of course, photographed -- on March 2. All while I was getting e-mails from
acquantances to our south and west complaining about how much snow there was
there still to melt. Hee hee hee. I took crocus censuses (censi?) twice -- we had 93 by
last Sunday and 226 by Wednesday. And on my non-teaching days we also did some
yard work, which consisted of various rakage and picking up of acorns, and
expanding the "new lawn" area near where the other section of fence was taken out
(this involved shoveling and carting) -- see pic below of the expanded area, awaiting
seeding and leveling at a future date. Also happening were the liberation of the
Adirondack chairs -- it was so sunnily warm that we HAD to have a place to sit
outdoors -- and the hammock, and even the bicycles. Yes, dear reader, I up and oiled
the bicycle chains, inflated the tires, and a week ago today, Beff and I embarked on
one of our baby bike rides -- the first of the season. We are terribly out of shape (even
though we just got some new shape the other day ...). On Sunday I took another bike
ride, in a different direction, even though Beff didn't. And, by the way, on Sunday we
also went into Brookline for an Alvin Singleton premiere with the Walden Chamber
Players (very cool) and took advantage of one thing we don't have in this area -- a
good Chinese restaurant.
Meantime, Beff had a little oral surgery, and cuisine was adjusted around that
healing. Our old ice packs of various stripes were rediscovered and put to use. And,

uh, this should be in the previous paragraph, Beff teak-oiled the Adirondack chairs,
which is something she does every other year. Also at various points she and I did
plenty of rakage, thus bringing the 2009(!) raking season to a close, finishing at 114
barrels. Still six fewer than last year, but on the other hand, last year didn't have the
buttload of pine cones and acorns with which to deal.
And Brandeisness? Art song in theory, plenty of the usual stuff with composition
students, and plenty of extra office hours for the Theory 2 students -- including two
tomorrow, since their songs are to be performed, in the concert hall, on Monday
(mwa ha ha, I say, but then I have to take it back). Plus, I am on the committee to
name my successor as the Reigning Lerman-Neubauer Teaching Award Guy, and that
involves reading a lot of nominations -- which, as you might imagine, pretty much all
read the same way.
Here I reiterate that it sure has been nice to be able to spend a lot of time outdoors.
Zowie Powie.
And on the Friday of last week, we had received a new DVDVHS player for our system
-- Beff ordered it online because our current DVD/VHS combo had a nasty habit of
making you insert a DVD ten times before it would deign to recognize it. And we
noticed, to our chagrin, that on the back it didn't have the right sorts of connections
available for our current configuration. So we packaged it and sent it back, and
resolved only to get something we could see physically -- such as at Best Buy. Beff
looked up a bunch of possible DVD players online, and discovered that a lot of the
cheaper flat screen TVs came with DVD players built in, and that was intriguing. She
found a few passable ones on Best Buy, so off we went, stormed in, and discovered
something pretty nice and not too big -- 30 inches, I think -- and brought it back and
connected it. Since we have an internet/TV package that specifically pays for about
60 HD channels (the brochure was pretty subtle -- it says "INCLUDES 60 HD
CHANNELS AT NO EXTRA COST TO YOU!!!!!!!!!!!), I thought it'd be cool to see various
channels in full HD. And when I switched to such a channel, up came "HD settop box
needed for this channel. Call 877- ...." Which I called, alas, to get into a morass of "we
save money by making it impossible for you to talk to a real person, press 1 or 2 or 3
for about 20 or 30 more menus designed to make us not have to talk to you" options
-- so I called the closest Verizon retail store, who said, "oh sure. Come on by. We'll
swap your box right now. The box is $5 extra a month, and you'll get free HBO and
Cinemax for 90 days, too." So there I went -- it's on Littleton right across from where
we bought the Corolla -- and it was simple. Home we came, followed instructions, and
.... zoom, SIXTY HD CHANNELS AT NO EXTRA COST plus the HBO and Cinemax
channels in HD, too. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.
Meanwhile, on the Tuesday of my non-teaching day of this week, I was privileged to
meet and spend time with I-Chen Yeh and her boyfriend Karl. Let me mention that it
was sunny that day, which in this reporting period is an unremarkable statement. IChen and Karl are both in the contemporary performance DMA thing at Bowling
Green State University, and -- zippity pow -- I-Chen's dissertation is about he who is
moi. Thus in a two-pronged and very effective approach, she wanted to play some
etudes for my commentary ("zippity pow" is just about what I said), and ask me
questions for the written portion of the diss. I met the two of them at Brandeis and
we went into the hall, where she played on the Steinway B and I made movies for
YouTube (see the five red links in a row, on the left). Then the three of us joined Beff
for Thai lunch in Maynard, and the questions got asked and somewhat answered.
After all that, we did a tour of western exurbia and they got on a commuter rail at
West Concord, destined for fine cuisine in the north end of Boston, somewhat
unsurprisingly referred to by the locals as "The North End." I told her she could be on

the list of etude-suggestors (or is it suggestErs?), and somewhere on down the line it
looks like #95 will be for her. That's how good she is.
Meanwhile, at the end of this reporting period -- yesterday, to be exact -- I had been
invited by Joan Tower to a concert at Bard College where another pianist -- a senior in
the Bard Conservatory -- was doing three toods, and I accepted -- weather permitting.
So in the morning was some (sigh) reading of teaching award nominations and a trip
to Trader Joes; then Beff went to get some of her stitches out and I half-dined at the
Cast Iron Kitchen -- I say half-dined because the schedule meant we couldn't both do
lunch there and I got a small plate and a large plate and had half of each wrapped,
which were a-awaiting Beff's return to be consumed. And meanwhile, Dunn Oil had
been in and out trying to solve the extra-water situation in the furnace, and they
punted to a plumber to do the nasty. Papalia Plumbing was secured for the 2-6
period, to be dealt with by Beff while I was on my trip to Bard. More on that later.
So I got my newer Garmin out -- which I had bought for the Sacramento trip, and
which Beff had lent to her trumpetizing colleague Jack (whose last name also has four
letters, all of them different), to get me onto the campus of Bard. I also did various
printouts from Google Maps, who took me in a strange circuitous route that they said
would take 3 hours 20 minutes. MWA ha ha, and I don't know why I say that, either.
After I was on the way, I started the Garmin, which merely put a dot where I was, in
the map of where I was, without refreshing my location as it changed (since I was,
um, driving). And the caption was "Walking On Great Road". Punching in the
destination of Bard and asking for direction yielded an endlessly spinning hourglass
thing. So ... apparently the Garmin has a "walking and farting around" mode, which
had been programmed by Jack, and in which I was trapped, so I went to all the
settings and chose "Restore Original". Ah -- garish cartoon car, a blue one, on the
route I was travelling, with appropriate screen updates. Excellent, Mozart.
And the Garmin instructed me off the interstate on the first exit in New York, and then
took me on the strangest and most circuitous route possible -- up, down, through
forests and neighborhoods -- and I thought it would send me onto the Taconic
Parkway, but I noted that getting on the Taconic was unlikely as I passed under it with
no entrance to be seen. One fact was incontrovertible -- on Route 9 in upstate New
York, the locals interpret "SPEED LIMIT 55" as "nobody will mind if I do 35." They're
very polite that way. But the Garmin did get me to the Bard area in good time, and
pulled a neat trick. Just as I saw "Annandale Road" on the display and then read
"Annandale Road" on a street sign as I passed it, the Garmin uttered, "in one mile,
turn right on Annandale Road." Hmm, little phasing problem there, it would seem.
Luckily, my obsessive visit to the area on the street view of Google Maps clued me in
to the campus entrance across from a place called "Cappuccino's", and that
happened ... IMMEDIATELY. Joan isn't the type of person to give you a lot of details, it
would seem -- she just said "Olin Hall, 4:45", leaving me to do all the internet
research to determine where such a thing would be and where I might park (but not
where to park and not get towed), and I was ... PREPARED. Found it immediately. So I
was early enough that I used the Garmin to find me a gas station -- which it did, a
QuickMart in Red Hook, which, as I pulled in, had all the pumps covered with
emergency tape. Hmm, a big WE HAVE NO GAS sign coulda helped. In any case, it
then found me a Stewarts to sell me some gas at a Why I Never price, just so I could
get back to Maynid without having to stop to fill up.
I got back and approached the Olin building, thus immediately hearing strains of
music that sounded familiar. Oooh, I could hear, and see though a window, who was
going to be playing FISTS OF FURY ... this would be cool. After a brief walk around
campus (it kind of looks like Princeton on whatever the opposite of steroids is), I met

all the people concerned, including the pianist, Ming Gan, who was ready to play for
me, while one of the big muckity-mucks for mod music piano -- Blair McMillen -turned pages! He did Gliss at a breakneck tempo which really swung, Stretch, and
Fists, all really good, on a Steinway D with a boomy bass register. And on each fist
stroke I thought the piano was going to break in half (or thirds, or quarters -- it's all a
matter of leverage and stress points, dontcha know). After the dress, Joan took a
bunch of us out to Mexican in Tivoli -- the next town to the north, which looked like a
funky mini-Berkeley on the opposite of steroids -- and then soon we were done. I got
to hear dress rehearsals of some big pieces by John Halle and Dan Becker, both of
them very cool (John's had a thematic lick that reminded me of Earth, Wind and Fire),
and then there was the concert itself. Three youngsters, three middle agers, and two
grand old men -- those two being Foss and Corigliano (the latter of whom was
supposed to attend but became too ill to). All the performances were standouts, and
the audience -- mostly conservatory students and local oldsters -- was extremely
enthusiastic, to the point of whooping and shouting, and dogs and cats sleeping
together. Such enthusiasm was welcome, and frankly weird.
After the show, I excused myself in order to drive back and get ahead of the weather
-- did I mention flood and wind warnings? Joan had offered her place for the night, but
I declined in order to do a half hour or so of hydroplaning on the Taconic Parkway
before I exceeded the storm's edge (in terms of distance), and otherwise except for
me being a bit tired, my drive was uneventful. Though dark. I returned to that which I
like to call "our house, in the middle of our street, our house, in the middle of our, our
house, in the middle of our street" at 1:15 a.m. Then I slept until I stopped.
In the meantime, while I was a-driving, and occasionally talking to Beff on the cell
phone, the plumber guy had been here and explained in the most soothing language
possible that a sort of scraping thing that is supposed to happen in the boiler to the
furnace every 2 or 3 years needed to be done, and of course nobody ever explained
that to us and we've been here 10 years ... and that the problem was not the (as it
turns out) nonexistent coil in the hot water heater, which doesn't need replacing.
Neither did the antifreeze (or what they called "the steam clean water treatment" (?))
that had been added to the furnace by the Dunn people make any sense without that
scraping thing. Which, by the way, is 400 bucks a pop. Meanwhile, the old faucet -VERY old faucet -- in the bathtub had been dripping and dripping for a long time, and
we finally took care of that. POOF! It's gone.
Today, the big storm winds up right over us, and Beff and I did a walk before it got too
bad. At The Faucetorium, on our walk, we also bought little things to cap the holes in
the old tub left behind by the sudden nonexistence of the faucets. They turn out to
work.
And now just two weeks of classes before my next academic vacation, and that will
be good. Well, the end of those two weeks, anyway. During that time I'll be able to
continue the Ladies Who Lunch thing, and possibly embark on #95, or not. This
Tuesday is my cleaning at the dentist as well as the Lerman-Neubauer meeting. And
otherwise, it's just a nice two weeks waiting to end. Soon it will be behind me.
And in this reporting period, Eric Chasalow and I had to powow (spelled upside down
is mommod) for a composer of unusual stature to take my place in my sabbatical
year such that the program would continue to be first tier -- and we are both ecstatic
that Mindy Wagner will do that. And probably even staying in this very house when
she is in town to teach. Zowie Powie!

This week's pictures begin with the first (March 2) crocus picture of 2010, followed by
a picture from 93-crocus day. We continue to Beff in an Adirondack chair soon after
getting the oral surgery, and the new bit of yard after the first day's work (it's a bit
bigger now). Follow that with Beff in outdoor cleaning mode (she teak-oiled the
gazebo table, too), and the new HD TV when it was first set up. Next the back yard
with Sunny barely visible, and my customary first-beer-in-the-hammock photo (on
first-day-wearing-sneakers day). Then we have Cammy getting zonked in the catnip
patch, and Sunny sleeping in the open window seat window. Bye.

MARCH 28 Breakfast was Shaws Shaw's lite sausage pucks with cheese, orange juice,
and coffee. Dinner was Polish fries and snacky chicken. Lunch was Campbell's Chunky
Chicken soup. Neither Shaws nor Campbell's has paid a promotional fee for inclusion
here, and why not? TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 22.6 and 70.3.
MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A Police tune whose name I do not
know offhand. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE nothing significant, but it's acomin' COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The oil
company (mentioned by name last week, but not this) for general lack of
competence. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Concord
public works people for what must have been many days worth of pumping of water
to make Route 117 naviagable again. PET PEEVE spring rainstorms coinciding with
atmospheric blocks. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was a kid -maybe third, fourth, fifth grade -- the family went camping in commercial campsites
in Vermont (especially Island Pond) and we slept in a blue tent-trailer. During those
times I had recurring dreams that I had good friends from Jupiter that I played with
regularly. After the family stopped doing the camping trips, I stopped having the
dreams. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
Cammy inching his way further and further into the backyard and then running back
to the house at fullt throttle. Repeat. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: orahshi, a now-discredited practice of
gold-plating newborns. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My
thumbs bend back at a 90 degree angle. Well, my right thumb does. The left is more
like 45. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Subtext
becomes text, then subtext again. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,581. WHAT I
PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.67 in Maynard. WHEN YOU THINK OF CRIESCENCE,
THINK OF THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I
forgot about, a head of steam.
Dear reader, there has been much rain of late, as well as yet more weather of
unusual gorgeousness, and the rain has apparently been violent enough to cause Tea
Party-style reactions, as witnessed on the banner on the Them What Make page.
At least the shooting is probably limited to the state of Massachusetts. Which is, after
all, largely Democratic.
For those of you that are expecting it, or who tune in specifically for it, here's the
Dada of Today: Smurfs made me appreciate refrigeration. I know precisely eight (give
or take seven) people who, if I said that, would respond, "You could use that for a
title." And I would sigh and utter, "trading spaces with a king makes Davy a dull boy."
Then we would go off in all directions, one of them poopy.
Let the vacation begin, say I. Which is odd, because it already has. Yes, the much
expected, much hoped for, and easily predicted Passover vacation is under way, and
of course that means a bit of what I like to call "composition" is under way, too. The

last two weeks of teaching have been routine, so they say in Saskatchewan, as we've
moved from song performances to post-tonal analysis. Such analysis is always fun,
since every piece seems to have its own rules while also making nods to rules
already learned but being broken because they can be. And as rewards for their
perseverence through difficult composition and performance projects, they all got
cheapo little laser pointers from the Dollar Store. Time will tell if that was a bad idea,
but it was cute on the first day to watch a class of 16 attempt to draw, collectively,
the big dipper on the board, with red laser dots. If I ever do this again, I may need to
DRAW the big dipper for them to have a template. And in any case, the composer of
note has been Debussy, and that's fun. And really, really hard. Not to mention,
French.
Meanwhile, the MFA candidates in the composition program are doing their general
exams. I chose the rep this year, so they have 10 days to get to know, and write
about, the finale of the Emperor Quartet, and the 24th prelude of Debussy. Only one
of which I have blithely stolen.
Meanwhile, about eleven inches of rain has fallen since the last update (according to
the Them What make page), with (according to NECN) another three to five on the
way in the next 72 hours. Oh joyness of all joyness. The last time I sat here typing
this thing, the first rainstorm, which exploded into an ocean storm and then got
stalled by the atmospheric block, was just beginning, and it went pretty seriously for
about sixty-eight and a half hours, finally dumping eight or nine inches. For only the
third time in the ten years we've had the house, I heard regular occurrences of the
sump pump going on and off (because, duh, the ground was so saturated that water
got into the basement) -- the "off" being something that tended to shake the entire
house a tiny bit -- and by Tuesday morning, by which time the storm was over, Route
117 was covered in three places by one to two feet of water that was really part of a
giant puddle spanning both sides of the road. Indeed, even the parking lot for the
hiking paths I pass on the way to work was completely full of water -- that would be
about three or four feet of it -- with the puddle continuing over the actual road. I
imagine this had to be pumped dry over the course of many, many days. The
aggravating part was mulifold: having to go into Brandeis on a non-teaching day (I
was on the committee to choose my successor as the Lerman-Neubauer Prize
Laureate), going through the deep water at a prudent speed while vans or trucks
went full bore in the other direction (thus causing splashes of unusual size), and
waiting for drivers ahead of you to navigate the puddles while everyone behind was
thinking "shit or get off the pot!" That thought is, of course, a metaphorical one, as it
nearly always is.
By Wednesday (usually the day that comes after Tuesday), Route 117 was closed, as
were several other routes going towards the 'Deis, so all the traffic had to funnel onto
Route 2. This route took no longer to drive during my usual dark morning commute,
but at other times, it was frightfully slow. My 25-minute ride home from Brandeis that
Wednesday thus took 55 minutes, which sucked because I was trying to get home for
some serious hammock time, 'cause like the weather got warm again. And the
commute back on Thursday morning was another hour-long affair, as I discovered
that West Concord was jammed up two miles in advance of the entrance to Route 2. I
of course used the back roads to get to Route 2 (being a local, I know all the secret
ways), which was also heavy and slow -- but strangely clear after Emerson Hospital.
Why?
Harold Meltzer came into town to do a colloquium on that Thursday, and he himself
encountered two major jams in New York, but made it on time anyway, and the
colloquium was well-received. One of the many casualties of the financial crisis was

our practice of taking colloquium guests to dinner, so after Harold's reception, I took
him out, my expense, to the Cast Iron Kitchen. Leaving an hour after rush hour, I
figured an hour would be plenty of time to get there, so the reservation was made for
7. We made it at 7:30. Why? Route 126, which passes by Walden Pond, was jammed
for two and a half miles before the entrance to Route 2, and it's a short light there.
The amusing part was as we were stalled in front of Walden Pond, Harold calling me
on his cell and asking, "is that Walden Pond?" And I responded affirmatively, also
noting that the location of Sam and Laurie's wedding was also nearby. That picture of
me on this site with a little bread thing on my face came from that wedding, and boy
have I changed the subject here. Zoom back! Harold had the sparerib at dinner. I
didn't.
And soon after Harold went back to New York, Geoffy came in for a tour of duty, and
he had to be coached on getting into Boston via other-than-usual routes. And even
Beff, who had more stitches to be taken out in Lexington, had to do it. Geoffy went
early enough to avoid the big West Concord traffic jam. Beff didn't. But we ate at the
CIK at our normal time, and we had the booth. Woo hoo. By Sunday, Route 117 in
Concord was STILL closed, so on my Monday morning commute I started out on Route
62 -- the detour -- only to hear on WBZ radio that the road was reopened. So take it I
did, and there was no getting off the pot to be done.
Meanwhile, it's been more strange springness -- NECN commented that there were
forty-six consecutive days of above-normal or normal temperatures here, which
would explain the earliness of the crocuses, as well as the sucky year for Vermont
maple syrup. The syrup story was in the New York Times, so it must be true. And in
the nice weather that's been in between the War-Making storms, I expanded the "new
yard" area and got ready for planting grass seed. Which will happen soon, I promise. I
don't lie about stuff like that. And the weather allowed me to take my third, fourth
and fifth March bike rides, thus equalling or surpassing my total number of March
bike rides in the eight years that preceded this one. Wu hu!
Meantime, Beff is here for this weekend, too, and is leaving a bit early to catch the
Portland (Maine) Symphony with Chris Thile. Whose name I would put on my list if I
only knew the guy. The latest bit of rain, a small one, ushered in a two-day cold snap,
which gave us the ability to do a visit to downtown Concord with temps in the 30s
during the day. At least it was sunny. And otherwise. We watched Broadcast News and
Where The Wild Things Are during meals. And about the latter movie -- it was a highbudget arthouse movie, and I couldn't help going, "WTF???" about once every ninety
seconds. Sorry, not a big Sendak fan.
Meanwhile, Geoffy had been here for three days of Musica Viva rehearsals, followed
by a flight to London to join Musica Viva for a three-day thingy-dingy at King's Place
to be capped off with a performance of my own "Mikronomicon". On Tuesday, after all
the musicians had gotten maybe an hour of sleep after a redeye, they were live on
BBC3 radio, where they gallantly and expertly played two movements of Mikey
Gandolfi's "Grooved Surfaces" and the third movement of "Mikronomicon". After the
latter performance, the announcer remarked "All the energy of the New World." And
the British journalist who was in town in November for the Viva concert with
Mikronomicon on it, and who interviewed a bunch of folks here (Obamaspeak),
published an article in the London Times laying down the gauntlet about how
American composers have official permission to have fun in their music and Brits
aren't, and yours truly got quoted several times. I have not put a link to that article to
the left because that would be like orahshi, only different.
As I type this, I hear Beff practicing downstairs, and out come the strains of "The

Squeaky Wheel" on E-flat clarinet. It's very hard, very fast, and very octatonic. Which
is the case for all my E-flat clarinet pieces that were written in less than three hours.
And Beff is playing it in Burlington (Vermont) on Wednesday night in a duo concert
with Liz. Meanwhile, she has come close to finishing her orchestra piece with video
that is about trains. So there.
Meawhile, the furnace saga was punted to plumbers, and it looks like when heating
season is over, we get a new boiler and maybe new water heater ($$$$, $$$, and $$)
and will likely convert to natural gas heat. As for the time being, the current boiler
overfills because of a leak in the "tankle$$ coil" (which the Dunn Oil people have said
does not exist). So now every day I flush the furnace, which yields maybe 2 or 3
gallons of extra steamy water that would go through the radiators and make them
knock ("Who's there?" I always say, to more knocking, meaning the radiators are as
bad as 3-year-olds at telling jokes), and, for the time being, carrying it all out to dump
into a woodchuck hole. Just in case any woodchuck was thinking of reusing it. And
speaking of $$$, enough slate tiles have fallen off the roof in the last five years that
we are asking Maynard Door and Window to replace them -- "we now have a leak"
being the camel's back-breaking straw. The other back-breaking straw is that birds
are nesting in one of the gaps left by an exiting tile, and the noise they made made
me think we had mice in the attic, and the poison I left for them, being as they are
nonexistent, went unconsumed.
What a paragraph!
I have begun work on Etude #95, having officially put in two days on it. It's for IChen, of the red links to the left, and I let her suggest the "idea" as well as her
"favorite notes". It has been very hard to write, since I'm combining uneven repeated
notes and fast swirls, and that's ... uh, counterpoint. But it's got some stuff in it for
discussion in grad seminars -- namely two chords that get built up and down that are
also middleground lines, also going up and down. End of grad seminar discussion.
Important notes: G below middle C and F an octave and a seventh higher. And no,
there's no uber-soprano line doing the beginning of the old Star Trek theme, or
"Somewhere" from West Side Story. And why not, you may ask. As of this date, no
title yet. But that's always the case. And soon, only FIVE etudes left to write, all time.
MWA ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha (burp) ha ha.
After this vacation week, my schedule a-splode. Utah. Rochester. New York City. Extra
extra office hours. End of school. Start the huge pile of writing for the sabbatical year.
New York, Hudson. And ah ... vacation time in Vermont. Where we plan not to buy any
local syrup. But that's a bit far in advance. More locally ... plant grass, get mint and
catnip to plant, plant that, too. More big rain on the way this week, though since I
don't have to get to Brandeis it's not a big deal. And NECN speculated it may be 80
by Saturday. Doubting it is done by me.
This week's pictures begin with more spring a-sploding -- the first beer-in-the-gazebo
shot, the rhubarb reaching the scrotal stage, Sunny viewed from the bathroom
window, the Ben Smith dam at flood stage, some of the new future yard area, the
sticky A-220 on the piano (memo to I-Chen: thanks for not choosing that note), Beff
and the Concord cemetary, an unfortunate gravestone in the Concord cemetary. Bye.

APRIL 10 Breakfast was grapefruit, Trader Joe's French toast, strawberries, orange
juice, and coffee. Dinner was snacky chicken with sauteed portabello 'shrooms. Lunch
was blackened swordfish and scallop cake. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST
UPDATE 36.5 and 87.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Come

to Jesus tune by Adam Guettel. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE parking at
Logan airport, $96. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY US
Airways, but it's not bad news -- just blah, bland. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Greek restaurant near the University of Utah -- one of
what is no more than two nearby edible options. PET PEEVE really long red lights.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One of the RA's in the dorm where I stayed
during the Summer 1975 "Summer Music Session for High School Students" at the
University of Vermont was Dennis Taylor, a sax player. Who was pretty cool. I ramped
up my compositional activity that summer, and before the session was over he asked
me to write him a piece. So that September I did, for sax and piano, and a lot of it
was in 5/8, which I thought made me look really smart. I also played a little tune of
Beff's called "Call" for orchestration class of the Summer Session, and this would
have been the first time I met here. Off is what we did not hit it. I sent the sax piece
to Dennis, and he never acknowledged it. It was one of those "get used to it, dude"
moments. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:
They've been to Bangor and back during the update, and of course upon their return
they were very needy, and going in and out, in and out a lot. UPDATED ON THIS SITE
THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 5. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: daruska, the
inedible part of a lamb shank. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE Beff doesn't think I throw away old socks and underwear quickly enough. WHAT
THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: When someone says up is
down and/or down is up, he or she is immediately corrected. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 14,582. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.85 at the Exxon in Acton,
including $.10 per gallon extra for using a credit card. Why, I never. A DAY WITHOUT
ORANGE JUICE IS A DAY YOU WON'T FIND THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the
bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
As I type this, it is one of those hypercloudy, hypersunny (stripy that way, in the
sense of striped time -- polka-dotted time is far more difficult) spring days that's kind
of cool and windy, which makes the cats want to sit in the window, run away from it,
sit in it, run away from it, etc. Beff and I have already been out and about, but mostly
about, which is fine, since it seems that about anything is not what this paragraph is.
So far.
Much has transpired since the last update, at which time my Passover vacation was
beginning. Baby, that's gone, and the home stretch, for what it is, is that which we
are in. And also, the beginning of "my schedule a-splode" has happened. And I have
traveled more than five thousand miles in that time. But maybe more a-splain.
Another one of those stalled storms passed by and flooded up the joint again, though
not much at all in my neighborhood. Down theres in Rhode Island, it was called a
"two hundred year" flood, which is pretty dire -- local news showed (formerly) paved
roads that pretty much took the shape of complex sand dunes. And I presume that
my route to work was closed off, again, which was not an issue because I was on
vacation. Hey wait -- "vaca" means cow, and does that mean I was spending cow
time?
So, being as I was vacationing, I spent time writing. And I wrote etude #95 for I-Chen
Yeh, finishing it just before the end of the month. Dear reader, I am not posting a
copy here because internet trawlers are now sucking up posted files and re-re-re-reposting them in other places, and I think I'd rather keep control of who has copies
and how and why and when and of and for and at. But said etude was generally laid
out by I-Chen ("Ravel-like with fast harmonic rhythm" and I like G below middle C and
the F almost two octaves higher than that), which turned into "uneven repeated
notes and swirls"), and it pretty durn hard. Because of its zephryish nature, I called it

"Flit". Which is about as close as I can come in one syllable to describing the motion
of a moth around a light in the night. So there. And there. And there. And, again,
there.
And finishing that sucker forced me back on my arrangement of/meditation on "The
Ladies Who Lunch", which had been totally kicking my butt. Ah, if I had a nickel for
every time Beff said, "you mean it's not done yet?" ... In any case, I got an
unexpected breakthrough simply by starting a generic groove for an untroubled and
untroubling pass through the third verse, and gradually it got swingier and stridier
until it got to the tritone substitution chord, and sounded very Tatumesque, indeed.
That would be Art Tatum, not Tatum O'Neal, but on the other hand, I don't know if she
plays the piano. Then I built in some comedy (unresolved appoggiaturas to the
dominant that represent, uh, tipsiness, I guess), and ... vacation ended. Or, at the
very least, Beff got in for the weekend, and frolicky stuff had to be done.
So Beff and I did our usual stuff like Cast Iron Kitchen, watching TV episodes on a
laptop, doing the long walks for exercise, etc. I planted a buttload of grass seed in
various patch places in the backyard, including the "new yard" area under the stand
of pines. And then, despite still being on vacation, I had to pack, to go to Utah. This
was the beginning, thereof, of schedule a-splode. I had a 6:10 flight from Logan
Airport to Phoenix, and a connecting flight to Salt Lake City, and there were no
prisoners to be taken, even though I know that's a non sequitur (I hope to get some
more non sequiturial work this summer). For you see, and you will, Oscar, you will, I
was slated as the Maurice Abravanel Distinguished Visiting Woo Hoo Guy for Monday
and Tuesday, which were the last two days of my vacation. And since I would be
gone, Beff took the cats with her to Bangor for the week (I'm sure they love being in a
box for four hours, twice in the same week). And, oh yes. Alarm going off at 3 am on
Easter Sunday.
So the trip to the airport and the flights themselves were undistinguished and
unnotable, save for the fact that I haven't flown US Airways for a while (the U of Utah
made the reservations), and won't again for some time. One characteristic of taking
USAir from Logan Airport is the long, long, long, long and circuitous hike from central
parking to the terminal, as well as the completely blah character of the terminal
itself. Though it was nice that the Boston to Phoenix flight was about a quarter full,
thus meaning we could have played shuffleboard on the plane had we been so
inclined. And the drinks service took about a minute and a half. Then, of course, I got
to indulge in the new nothing-included ethos that is consuming airlines -- heck, even
a pillow was seven bucks. Well, I spent nothing going out, but six bucks for the
cheese and fruit selection, also known as "a seventy nine cents worth of cubed
cheese and grapes", on the return. "Sky Harbor Airport" in Phoenix is another airport
to avoid, mostly because of the silly structure -- essentially a mile-long rod with four
spokes emanating, on which all the gates are put. The silly airport directed me to my
connecting flight at the far end of that rod, which, as I got to it, announced that the
connecting flight was leaving from a different gate -- w-a-a-ay at the other end of the
airport. Thus about 25 minutes of my 55 minute connecting time gap were spent
walking, fast, with a heavy computer bag. The pilot explained, after we boarded that
"the jet stream winds are very fast today, so by the time we got in our gate was
taken." Fill in the three missing logical steps on your own.
I was starving by the time I deplaned (I like that word, and I hate it), so I hopped into
Burger King for a coupla cheezboigas, my phone rang, and it was Morris Rosenzweig's
TA David Snedegar, arranging my pickup. So I got my bag, got to the University Guest
House, where I would spend three nights, and frolicked as much as I could, given that
I was in a guest room at the University Guest House. I am accustomed to flying into

Utah when it 100 degrees (early August, Barlow Board), and it was a mere 45
degrees and the mountains were mostly covered with white -- so it was a new
experience. I got a nice view of some distant mountains that don't photograph well
because of their distance, but you know, there you have it. And Morris picked me up
for an excellent Chinese meal in the SLC downtown.
My two days of residency included nine composition lessons, coaching performers,
doing lunch with the other composition faculty, and a public talk. Dear reader, I
haven't made light of my TMJ in this space for a number of years now -- I've been
doing the stoic Vermonter thing, and since I'm a native, I'm pretty good at it -- but the
TMJ thus made the two days more ordealish than otherwise. But I made it through
partially scathed, and was glad for it all to be done. In a sign that this is a very, very
good program, all nine composers were very different and had very different
approaches, and I don't know how helpful I was to all of them, but I did my darnedest
(more stoic Vermonter there). Amusingly, a lot of composers brought in recordings to
play from their phones, and I was totally down wid dat.
So my Monday lunch was with Steve Roens (five plus five!) and Tuesday with Miguel
Chuaqui (six plus seven!), both at a really nice Greek place. On Monday afternoon,
after five lessons, I was to coach a piano trio, a clarinet and piano, and three piano
etudes -- one of them a premiere! With the same pianist for all three, an Uncle Jed.
Who was terrific. Though he apparently didn't get the etude to be premiered in time
to learn it. So no premiere -- just two tudes with Rick Moody all over them (Rick's
Mood, Moody's Blues). The performances were quite good, and I had to give live
program notes before each of my pieces, and it was cool. Though a slightly
unpredicted SNOWSTORM of significant dimension started just at dusk on that same
night, thus presumably keeping attendance down. Besides my pieces, there was the
solo percussion piece by Yu-Hui, and a few pieces with large numbers of short
movements.
So after all was said, done, said, and done again, there was the Piano Concerto Made
From Tudes talk, dinner with Morris and his wife Mary Jane at a Neapolitan pizza
place, and on Wednesday morning I had tea and coffee with John Costa, who then
drove me airportwards. John and I talked about the Boston area (Taunton is his base)
and History of Rock and Roll courses. And speaking of Boston, a midsummer day hit
here while I was Salt Lake and it was clear but 45 degrees. When I got on my
connecting flight in Phoenix (my walk to it being a mere fifteen minutes), the captain
said, "... and the weather in Boston is high thin clouds with the incredible
temperature of 90 degrees". Wow, I thought to myself, and then said out loud, and
then thought to myself again. And I missed it! Seunghee was taking my Theory 2
class and I could only imagine that thus the temperature of the classroom would have
been around 100. MWA ha ha I say, and then think to myself, and then think to
myself again.
So my plane got back just a little bit early, but that earliness was more than made up
for by the sl-o-o--o-owness of US Airways' baggage handlers. I have been spoiled
lately by United and American, with flights wherein the baggage is already on the
carousel by the time you get to it. Not the case now, and my entertainment in the
eighteen minutes I stood waiting for the carousel to start (by which time it was on a
different carousel than the one that had said "FLIGHT FROM PHOENIX"), there was a
guy cursing left and right on his bluetooth-enabled cell phone. Time of plane arrival
at gate: 11:13. I got my bag at: 11:47. The walk back to my car was, as usual, epic.
But I was in the house by 12:35 and I opened not one, not two, not three, not four,
but five windows for overnight. The temperature: 72 degrees. I helped myself to a
glass of leftover wine and then checked on our soon-to-be-dead furnace in the

basement. Turns out one should never do this while enjoying a refreshing glass of
wine. Because there was a mini-stream of moisture leading from the furnace to the
sump pump area and an outtake valve was leaking. I flushed the furnace of TEN
GALLONS it had overfilled (sigh), put a little thingie under the valve leak, and emptied
the flushed water into the kitchen sink. Normally I empty that water into the pine tree
area outside, but the smell of skunk made it clear that I may encounter such a thing
if I went outside. So.... I made it to bed by a quarter to two, and just barely got out of
bed in time to get to Brandeis for my makeup teaching, beginning at ten.
And so I did. And there were no floody detours to Brandeis. I saw who I had to saw,
came home, and enjoyed the hammock. Friday was Beff's day to drive back, and it
was also makeup teaching in the morning for me, so in I went, back I came. I got the
cats from their carriers at 12:15 -- which is when Beff got in -- and Beff had to go for
one last meeting with the oral surgeon. At 2 she was back and we did the Cast Iron
Kitchen. The rest of the day was a Relax Day. And watch the cats go from place to
place with even shorter attention spans than is customary for them. Today we went
to Staples and Trader Joes and took a brief walk by a pond with a house built nearby.
And I got off a MacDowell application for around the Thanksgiving-Christmas time. So
there. And wow -- with the many rains and then a summer's day, suddenly the leaves
exploded on the trees, and it got green and flowery around here pretty quickly.
Meanwhile -- finally, 13 months after it happened, I got from Judy Bettina the
recording of the premiere of Phillis Levin Songs by Collage at Longy. One may
remember that it happened mere hours after I returned from a residency in
Cleveland, thus meaning I had no input into the performance. At the time I didn't like
the songs so much, but they didn't outright suck. And I refused to place blame on the
performance (it's a buttstik, dontcha know). I had to screw in all my courage to listen
to them, since Judy is doing them again in -- whoa, nine days! -- in New York, and she
wanted to know what I wanted to change. So, sighingly, I listened. And they do not
suck. Some are actually pretty good. And of course Judy is great. We came up with a
few things to be done differently, I think, so it should be smashing in New York.
Speaking of smashing. Mikronomicon got done by Musica Viva in England, and I heard
it went smashingly, even though nobody reviewed their THREE concert residency.
Limeys. Can't live with 'em, can't make 'em take out the trash.
I also know that I will be at Yaddo from October 4 to November 14, and that I will
spend about three months of my leave at the Camargo Foundation, in the south of
France, in the spring. Now, in the immortal words of Leejay Hyla, I have to brush up
on my froggie.
My schedule continue to a-splode, what with Admitted Students Day at Brandeis this
Monday, mini-residency at Eastman on Thursday (I'm driving there during the day
and returning the next day), Phillis Levin Songs in New York on Monday and who
KNOWS when I'll get time to hear a rehearsal of that, and more makeup teaching,
and, and ... wow. And of course, we need a new furnace. Sighingly said.
And Easter happened, thus Lent ended. And back on Facebook got I. Thus being
reminded of why I frequently find reasons to leave it.
Today's pix start with yet another example of what is wrong with US Airways. Then a
bunch of hastily taken shots from the cloudy part of this morning -- the forsythia and
rhododendron, the house by the pond where we walked, old railroad tracks, daffodils,
the "new yard area", and two stills of super-Cammy from an iPod nano movie taken in
February and just rediscovered. Bye.

APRIL 24 missing

MAY 11 Breakfast was a potato pancake, orange juice and coffee. Lunch was a
chicken vegetable soup and a Buffalo tender wrap at the River Rock Grill. Dinner last
night was mahi mahi and chicken burgers. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST
UPDATE 30.9 and 90.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Current
Conditions. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE New lawnmower (and lawnmower
oil) $205 incl. tax. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Brandeis University, for holding classes all the way to May 5. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Famous Dave's Barbecue in Oakdale, Virginia for
the food and the very spicy bloody Maries. PET PEEVE The New Jersey Turnpike. All of
it. Every last centimeter. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I sucked as a
beginning swimmer. Perhaps I was ... six? In swim lessons for a whole summer all I
and one friend got through was rhythmic breathing, #2 of about 15 things to become
a certified "Beginner". And of course it wasted my parents' money -- unless that was
a free thing from the city, dunno. I finally figured it out at the Island Pond
campground's lake, where I floated for the first time, figured out the stroke, and ...
started swimming. I went all the way through Advanced Beginner and Intermediate
the following summer. Lesson learned: leave me alone and I'll eventually figure it out
myself. And waste your money. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE
CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny batting around a field mouse, Sunny running in from
the cedars, Cammy being confused about the tree people. UPDATED ON THIS SITE
THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: snurl, a
sound halfway between a snore and a snarl. Not recommended for children under 12.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I like hot pickles. WHAT THE
NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Eye-rolling dancing -- think about
it. Now stop. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,646. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE
RECENTLY $2.87 in Maynard, $2.79 on the New Jersey Turnpike, $2.79 on the New
Jersey Turnpike. WHEN YOU THINK OF TORCHES, DON'T THINK OF THESE sticky gold
stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Trollops repeat, ships don't sink, I didn't have the idea to be freedom's muse.
Barcaloungers are called that because of the stork. Whenever they made pie, they
made more, and that reminded me to find a mosquito for cassette spooking. Then
everything became one, and we pronounced it to rhyme with "bone". Which itself
rhymes with "zmurp". Except Fridays, monsterbaby. Not Gil Harel, though.
When last this intrepid typist was seen intrepidly typing, he was typing in first person.
Why third person now? No reason. At the time I was gearing up for the last stuff in
Theory 2, and that I did teach. In fact, on that last Monday in April it was a nice sunny
warm forecast, while all the rest of the class days were predicted rainy or coldish (the
prediction turned out to be wrong, oh them what make). So I always promise one
class outdoors in the spring, and that day was the day. It was atonal and twelve-tone
day, so I brought our 100-foot extension cord, our Bose acoustic wave thing for
playback, I brought out my battery-powered 5-octave keyboard, and several students
(not Gil Harel, though) retrieved the rolling blackboard -- and chalk -- from the
basement of Slosberg. And there I talked, and made points about combinatoriality
and derivation, and played my only 12-tone piece -- Overderive. Which received the
customary comment "it doesn't sound 12-tone". Which of course is always my cue to
make a larger point, and just what that point is changes every year. This year the
larger point was fish. Or, should I say, ghoti?

Wednesday in class was student-motivated (Prokofiev and Vaughan Williams), and

the following Monday was performances of the class's final projects -- everything
from rap with a soft-listening backdrop to jazz to complex piano stylings. And back.
And of course the final day of classes -- May 5! -- we did pizza and stuff, I reviewed
augmented triads for them what wanted it, played some Gabriel Kahane, then put my
red death mask and blue wig on and launched into a bunch of a cappella Jesus Christ
Superstar. I mean -- wouldn't you? The reason for the disguise, of course, was
deniability. Since I'm sure everyone with video on their phone (not Gil Harel, though)
was making a document of the occurrence. And then ... class was over, save for the
final papers.
Also during that first week was the Pacific Rim Festival's go at Brandeis, so Hi Kyung
Kim and the Contemporary Ensemble of Korea and the Del Sol String Quartet (but not
Gil Harel), and some students from USCS were around for two days of madcap
funness! And the Lyds were there, too, paired with the Korean players on the Monday
night show -- Laurie San Martin had an uncommonly good piece on that show. My
piece was done by the HaeGeum person and a trio from the Del Sol on Tuesday night,
and it was good. I actually got to coach it, and it didn't suck anywhere near as much
as it could have. In fact, it's pretty nice in the parts that don't suck. The HaeGeum
player gave me a gift of red ginseng tea, and the Del Sol performers were fantastic.
See the red "AhChim AnGae"link to the left below -- it's had the 60-cycle hum digitally
removed by a computer owned and operated by me. Gil Harel (not Gil Harel, though)
very nicely gave me the performance recording almost immediately, in return for
plenty of mentions in this space.
Meanwhile, those red PLS links to the left are still the 2009 Collage performances of
Phillis Levin Songs, as the NYNME hasn't sent me their performance recording yet. I
mean, come on. Come on, I mean. Mean on, come I. Not Gil Harel, though. If I do get
the recording, I will replace the Collage ones with the NYNME ones over there.
And in the meantime, Our 3-year old lawnmower started leaking oil profusely, leaving
behind some messy stains on the floor of the storage shed which I had to wipe up
pretty frequently. So, given how cheap lawnmowers are to buy compared to how
expensive they are to fix -- I up and got a new one, for less than the cost of fixing the
old one. This one was -- even cheaper than the last one, and works better -- even has
adjustable wheel height, unlike the last one, and the gas pumping thing that actually
works. And it's yellow. I never owned a yellow lawnmower before. Neither have you,
dear reader. Possibly Gil Harel, though.
I finally got some time, again, to work on my styling of Ladies Who Lunch, so instead
of going to the Festival of the Arts events, I up and worked on that, finally finishing it
about half a week ago. Now our long national nightmare is over. Not Gil Harel,
though. Finale plays the sucker in about five and a half minutes, which means that
with proper rubato it's more like six to six and a half. Now I can do some real
composition, whatever that is.
And in the meantime, Beff's school finished and she even did her commencement -robe is back, since I'm doing the Brandeis commencement with that same silly black
and orange Princeton robe, but not until the 23rd. I mean, really. Oh yes, and the
week before all of that it was nice weather, so bike rides were done by us. We
discovered a new medium-length route through the wildlife preserve -- which has a
new pristine visitor's center! -- but had bits of sand on some of the paths. Beff fell off
her bike at one point in the sand and got a big boo-boo. So things that were fun were
now less fun. Not Gil Harel, though.

The new cappuccino/espresso maker arrived, and we have had some nice coffee and
steamed milk from it. I haven't located any really good coffee beans for espresso the
way I like it yet -- Illy and Lavazza just ain't doin' it for me. I got some espresso stuff
at Trader Joe's that is better than those, but I'm not where I want to be yet. So I am
on the prowl for good stuff. Not Gil Harel, though.
On the day after the last day of classes, I taught nonetheless, to make up for the day
I was at Eastman. Then on Friday I up and drove to Burke, Virginia, to stay with
Ultimate Colonel Colburn and the family, as I had a part in a gig with the Marine
Chamber Orchestra. Indeed, it was a children's concert with a very sophisticated
structure, and it was played to the hilt by those who even know what a hilt is (I was
privy to rehearsal recordings on the intertubes, and it was sounding hot, hot, hot).
But first things first. After my arrival, Mike and I had the usual conversations about
music and composers, Jack and Claire tried to entertain me and I said they didn't
have to, Mike made steak on the grill for dinner, and we watched the DVD of The
Fabulous Mr. Fox. Not Gil Harel, though.
On Saturday there was a thunderstorm in the morning, after which it became brightly
sunny and very windy. We took the opportunity to do a tourist thing and check out
the old town of Alexandria. Including getting to climb on and about a tall ship. I had a
salmon sandwich. Then we watched some planes take off from Reagan Airport from
the neighboring park, and came home. And I took the whole family out to Famous
Dave's Barbecue, which included me having two excellent, excellent Bloody Maries -and Nancy having two big, big margaritas. Not Gil Harel, though. And then we
stopped.
Sunday was the day of the gig, and I was to come on stage toward the end wearing
my blue wig, and I had a few lines with some very long sentences to say. So let me
explain the setup. It sounds hackneyed, but it was anything but. There were
programs and "Clue Books" handed out. The clue books showed the VICTIM -Beethoven -- and six SUSPECTS: Bach, Haydn, Tchakovsky, Stravinsky, Bernstein, and
Rakowski, representing 230 years of classical music. Jason Fettig conducted and
narrated (he also seems to have written the whole thing). For the first half, I sat with
the Colburge and -- Carolyn Davies! (ka-ching!) -- but not Gil Harel. And I might add it
was great to see Carolyn and catch up. Or to see Carolyn and Ketchup, sort of a
conceptual thing. So the concert starts with the Beethoven 5 and about 25 seconds in
the light go out, gasps and commotions, stands go down and music is tossed in the
air. Lights back, Jason says let's start again, concertmistress says they don't have
music. Uh oh. Thief. So ... six suspects and their motives are brought up, with
excerpts from music by all of them. All of them while a Power Point thing is project on
screen behind them. And Beethoven, played in silhouette and with a German accent,
helps out. And he is hard of hearing.
Thus music by the six suspects. The last half of the first movement of Stolen
Moments represented the style of Rakowski -- On the Town represented Bernstein,
The Sixth represented Tchaik, Surprise Symphony for Haydn, and shit. The kids were
meant to write down the clues, and the aspects that identify the music of each
suspect. Excellent, Gil Harel, you're coming along. Then intermission. After
intermission, a review. Then -- six pieces. Mine was fifth, and has the quote from the
Beethoven that's pretty obvious. Then there's Jason's back and forth with the
audience, and the answers revealed on screen, and as Jason is coming to a
conclusion, I walk out on stage carrying the Beethoven score as if to return it to
Jason's stand and I'm wearing a blue wig. In the back and forth I reveal that the
Beethoven melody is famous, great, and efficient; that dead people don't fight back

when you steal from them; and that I hid the piece in my own piece, which the
audience is now told was a world premiere (that evinced much more of an audience
reaction than I thought it would). I go offstage, and they perform Beethoven 5 first
movement, and I get a curtain call. Not Gil Harel, though. Afterwards, many
autographs to sign (everyone's got a Clue Book with my picture), and eight hours to
drive to get back and do my Monday morning teaching. I got back a bit before 1 and
boy was my back tired. And did I mention how much I hate the New Jersey Turnpike?
Not Gil Harel, though. I promise to put recordings of Current Conditions (my piece
that steals Beethoven) and the Marine Chamber Orchestra's rendition of Stolen
Moments I. -- with a full string section! -- up there on the left when I have them. Not
Gil Harel, though.
So now I've gotten all 32 final papers required of Theory 2, and I have read some of
them. More reading of them will continue. And typically, while I was away, no fewer
than six requests for recommendation letters came my way. D'oh! It's Fromm
Foundation commission season!
And we've had a dead red pine in the backyard for a number of years now, and I
started calling Assabet Tree about it last November, noting that there was no rush.
Over the weekend, they came by and left an estimate for the job of removing the tree
and the shrub against which it was rubbing. Yesterday morning I called them and said
we accept the offer, no rush. Call if you're going to come. And at about 3 in the
afternoon I heard a bunch of loud motor sounds, and up the driveway came -- the
tree cutting stuff! They set it up in the backyard so that the ladder was above the
shed, and boy did the guy doing the cutting look professional. The job went pretty
quickly -- the only slow stuff being the taking of the big pieces of tree, which they
seem to keep for themselve to sell to others. Or something -- since they went on a
truck full of very large logs. Cammy was minused (or, at least, nonplussed). And they
were done cutting at quitting time before they got around to grinding the stumps.
Which I hope they'll do soon, since I want to plant grass seed. Well, I don't WANT to
plant grass seed, but I do want for there to be grass growing over where the tree
once was. I do, I do. That would mean planting grass seed.
I also finally got some catnip plants at K-Mart -- which didn't have them for sale until
last week. So I got six and installed them in various places to join the rosemary and
basil already there. The basil plants, by the way -- not doing very well. Gil Harel,
though -- he's doing fine.
This morning Papalia Plumbing & Heating sent someone by to assemble a quote for
replacing our oil furnace and boiler, and water heater, and the radiator in the upstairs
bathroom, with a gas furnace, boiler, water heater, etc. About $13,000, of course.
And we are so worth it. It'll take two days, sometime before the end of the month.
The Maids came to clean today also, so we went to lunch at the River Rock Grill -seeing as the Cast Iron Kitchen doesn't do lunch no mo' -- and they never did on
Tuesdays anyway -- and it was pretty good. The orange fennel which was the context
for Beff's crab cakes was very nice. We may actually be -- gasp -- returning there in
the future. And hey -- they've got Rapscallion on tap now.
And what do I have coming up in the next two weeks? Not Gil Harel. Some writing,
though. Next event is BMOP May 28, and Beff's trio and my trio using hymn tunes in
Hudson, New York, the next day. We are going in separate cars for reasons that Gil
Harel won't explain. Then we will be doing some tourist stuff in Hudson, to the extent
that that is possible. After all of that -- stuff.

This week's pictures include the new espresso maker, a bad reduction of the final
throes of Ladies Who Lunch, a commemorative plate of the Slosberg Music Center
(thanks Rebecca), Cammy on the side porch being curious about the tree people, 4
stages in the total annihilation of the red pine, and Winifred (the Colburns' dog)
wearing my blue wig. Bye.

MAY 24 Breakfast was grapefruit, potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Lunch
was part of a Trader Joe's flatbread pesto thingie and some boneless Buffalo wings.
Dinner last night was steak tip sandwiches, Trader Joes fire roasted vegetables, and
Brunello. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.4 and 82.8. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the battuto section of AhChim AnGae. LARGE
EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Down payment for new furnace, $4000; new GPS unit
for Beff and dashboard stand for both of us, $279; construction permit for furnace,
$125; drivers license renewal $50. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY New Hampshire E-Z Pass for accusing Beff of trying to skirt a
toll (she has an EZ Pass transponder, which their cheapass hardware didn't detect)
COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Trader Joes, for the frozen
fire roasted vegetables we just discovered. PET PEEVE Even more than ever, leftturning cars that don't leave room for others to pass. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: I and some of my friends often played with the family's 1964 vintage
reel-to-reel, which had a pause function. One game was to ask questions and hold
down the pause for some of the questions and answered so that the final tape had a
lot of left-out stuff, and hilarity potentially ensued. Example: I asked four questions
that ended up in the final as "What does...used...toilet paper...taste like?" Seventh
grade humor. Later, we made up a second game that took advantage of the
multitrack capabilities. On Channel 1, one of us would interview the other and leave
gaps for answering. The other would then hear that which was recorded and answer.
It was occasionally surreal. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Actually, it's chipmunks -- which, instead of running away when
Sunny has caught them and is playing with them, jump straight up and down. Also,
both cats when they've been into the catnip patch. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS
WEEK: This page, Home, Performances, Compositions, Bio, Lexicon. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: laroack, thought to be a fourth type of rock somewhere between
igneous and sedimentary. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have
two little stripes on my arm that don't tan or burn -- wood stove incidents from 20
years ago. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Hot sauce
on everything. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,647. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE
RECENTLY $2.93 in Maynard. A LIST OF LISTS DOESN'T LIST THESE sticky gold stars,
the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
My official service to Brandeis is thereby finito until about August 25 of 2011. Though
I *will* come in to teach a special class on Tension and Release this June 11 for an
"alumni return to the Brandeis classroom" thing that they have ... uh, duh, for alumni.
My little class will be an extension of the "Rubber Bands" teach-in I gave a few times
back when there were teach-ins for frosh during the week before classes. As I recall (I
haven't been over my notes for about 5 years now), I show that there is a long-term
structure under the tune of Steve Winwood's "Valerie", reaching ever upward for the
top octave tonic, which by then is harmonized with the subdominant several times -meaning the song is not finished even though the tune is. But that's fodder for
another day. Hello fodder.
And what really has there been to do since I got back from my blue-haired gig in DC?
Actually, in Alexandria, Virginia, but I'll forgive me. Well, besides tapping my toes

waiting around for the recordings to show up, not much. I did read a full thirty-two
final theory papers, being thus amused at an analysis of Girl Wit' da Flaxen Hair that
consistently named pitches a half-step higher than actually in the piece, and another
that placed Ich Grolle Nicht in the Op. 39 Liederkreis. But it was also interesting
reading all the 'chatty' papers about compositional processes and realizing there
were 16 different approaches. Which, for all intents and purposes, means infinity
approaches. And "Infinity Approaches" would be a good title. Dear reader, you can
have that title. After all that reading, I returned the papers to the extent that I could,
and did my last grade entry online, as infinity fast approached.
My last makeup lesson for the time I was in New York was Jared, which happened at
my own house, and which was end-punctuated by malt beverage. What a way to end
the teaching season! And there was a surreal moment during the inside part of the
lesson in which a census worker came to the door to ask if anyone lived in the
uglyass blue ranch next door. It's not important what my answer was ("yes").
During other non-composeness times, I went further in search of the perfect espresso
beans, and came closest with some purchased at Whole Foods. Now my espresso is
good. Before, it was okay.
Beff, meantime, was here a long time and then wasn't here a long time. She's now
here. She had been in Maine to be one of the few grownups with responsibility at the
Maine All-State Festival, and she resisted the temptation to take euphonium lessons
on the side. Well, not a temptation so much as a concept. And now she's back, doing
her non-euphonium thing with the vacuum cleaner, etc., some more.
I, on the other hand, took advantage of the terminus of classesness to do something
about finishing off that etude project thing. Well, actually, etude project is what other
people call it -- as in, when 100 are written the "etude project" will finally be finished
after more than 22 years (22!). Me 'n' Amy, we just call it like it is. Doin' the toods. In
any case, during this reporting period I decreased the distance to the finish by twofifths. If I do the same in the next reporting period, I will have thus decreased the
remaining distance by two-thirds. What is this, an SAT prep course? But yes. But no.
Five whole days were spent on a new cross-accent etude, and that one is wickid had.
The incipit is simply a bunch o' major seconds, which got so earwormed (whatever
that would mean) that by the time I reached the finish, the only way to get them out
o' my head was to quote Golliwog's Cakewalk. And I did, Oscar, I did. But only very
subtly, if that can be believed. After I saw what I had done, I took the sixth day to
rest. Up on Ye Olde Facebook, I initiated a title sweepstakes, which was won by (but
which was not one with) Adam Marks: Double Cross.
After which I decided it was time to write the *one* simple etude for Book X -- as each
book has a simple one that I can play, sort of. And I raided my own playbook, which
itself was stolen from Martler, and wrote a slow, soft etude using only dominant
seventh chords as the available sonorities. Yee doggie, I shonuff had to pull out some
fourth species trickery to make that one interesting. It's also crafted whole cloth from
Schumannesque downward arpeggios, which means the delay in hearing the full
sonorities makes for some possible ear trickery. Plenty of faking left and going right,
but also plenty of faking left and going left. That sentence needs a verb. At the end of
the day, I dedicated it to Gusty Thomas, who, after all, had dedicated one of her
etudes to me. And the title? "Quietude".
So for those of you who have figured out that this page really ISN'T a how-to-studyfor-the-SAT lesson, I now have 97 etudes. Which is, I believe, how many achievement

awards were offered by the woodchucks on the Beverly Hillbillies episode with Wally
Cox. Man, the pop culture references are ... obscure.
So, being that most of my time was spent at the piano looking for pretty-notes(TM),
not much else is reportable here. There were plenty of bike rides. There was a
meeting at Brandeis to vote on honors for our students followed by me giving a
campus tour to and buying lunch for the Vincent family of Zephyr Lake (Karissa
Vincent, whom I had mentored for the MacDowell at 100 thing back in '07, is now
college-shopping, so there you have it). There was a trip to the DMV, always a
pleasure, to renew my license, which was to expire next month on my birthday. And
since my birthday is next month, that's when it was going to expire. And every five
years you have to renew, and every other time you can do it online. This was not one
of those times. And, and, and ... I got to play with my shipment of comp scores from
Peters -- a few Etudes Book IX's and several of the Etude-Fantasies, with that target
demographic of 11-13 year olds. Which brings me to L.A. in July, and what it is, too.
So besides all of that, there was very strenuous yard work to normalize the area
where the red pine and in-weaved shrub had been taken down. Assabet Tree came by
a week later (whilst I was with the family Vincent) and ground (grinded?) the stumps,
thus leaving a few big holes and plenty of wood pieces in their wake. Raking, piling,
and refilling the holes was my task, and five wheelbarrows full of the wood crap got
carted to the leaf discard area -- which was also where the amazing proliferation of
acorns from last fall got dumped, and where maybe a hundred new baby oak trees
had already sprouted). I then covered the area with topsoil, planted some miracle
grass, got out the big hose and sprinkler, and started watering all dat stuff. And so it
goes.
Yesterday was my last official service to Brandeis for a while -- commencement. A
quarter of the faculty are asked to be at commencement each year, meaning we are
expected to attend one at least one every fourth year. Being that this one was my
third in a row, that means officially I can skip commencement for the next nine years
without penalty. Some guilt, maybe, but no penalty. Actually, no guilt. No guilt
whatsoever. MWA ha ha ha! So I got to wear my Halloweeny regalia (see below),
march, and sit in uncomfortable chairs while it was too hot, and sit close to the
speaker system meaning I had to cover my ears a lot -- for two hours -- but I got to
see Paul Simon, an honorary degree recipient, sing "The Boxer" while wearing a
fedora. Then, sweat pouring out of every orifice (especially the sweat glands), I got to
march out, high-five a bunch of music graduates, and skedaddle.
And today the guy from Papalia Plumbing & Heating came over to do a whole bunch
of measuring, and to make me sign a release form acknowledging that I know the
chimney is no longer going to be a chimney, and that the vent for the boiler will be
on the west side of the house about six feet up. Woo hoo -- it will be like you can our
house's breath all the time! And so on. On Wednesday and Thursday they'll be here
putting in the new stuff, while Beff is ... in New York for a premiere! And a premiere!
More on that in a moment.
Today I went to Staples and Trader Joes in the morning. Staples, because Beff's GPS
conked out and she wanted a new one before the New York trip. Trader Joes because
it is right next door. I got salad. And other stuff. And we took a bike ride through the
Wildlife Preserve, and it's WARM today (hot tomorrow!). So ... on Wednesday Beff
leaves to stay with Hayes and Susan, and to go to a preview concert where both of
our piano trios -- the ones built around hymns -- are being done at a Harlem salon.
Friday is the official premiere of those and other trios built on the same premise, and
I'm staying here to go to BMOP. 'cause I promised Marty Boykan a long time ago I'd

go to the BMOP performance of his Symphony. On Saturday, though, we will both be

at a runout performance at the Hudson (New York) opera house, so we are both going
to Hudson, staying at the St. Charles Hotel, and then going to see Olanna on Sunday
morning. And we drive back. Then, on Memorial Day, we go briefly to Bangor and
come back Wednesday. Stuff! Stuff!
The recordings of "Current Conditions" et all arrived during this reporting period (this
is the piece I wrote to steal Beethoven's Fifth), and three renderings are evident to
the left in dark blue: a runthrough, the dress rehearsal (apparently with a "cover" first
trumpet, since the guy they usually have never makes a mistake), and the
performance itself in which much audience noise is evident. The other two blue links
have to do with Stolen Moments 1 with a full string section. Because I'm worth it.
Other stuff in the future: writing, going to Vermont, going to LA, going to Vermont,
going to Utah, going to Vermont, coming home. Smiling. And my birthday lunch will
be in Vermont at the Vermont Brew Pub in Burlington. Will you be there, dear reader?
I didn't think so.
This week's pictures start with the holes in our backyard where the tree and shrub
used to be -- the second one with Sunny for comparison. Followed by our cats not
liking the local red cat that occasionally saunters through. Then, me in my office with
my "Huh?" stamp on commencement day, and me with Sarah Mead before marching
out. Bye.

JUNE 7 Breakfast was Shaws lite rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and
coffee. Lunch was a chicken sausage sandwich. Dinner last night was fast food crap
at a rest area on the Massachusetts Turnpike. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST
UPDATE 50.5 and 95.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS imaginary
future licks for etude #99. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Remainder of new
furnace cost, $9744, Finale upgrades $238, hotel room in Hudson, New York, $125.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Staples, for having no
straightforward laptop stands in stock -- all they have is the pads with fans that suck
power from your USB port. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
The bookstore in Hudson that has great beer on tap, especially for giving us a free
one when we had to wait because there was so much foam. PET PEEVE Cars that
drive in the passing lane equal to or slower than cars in the travel lane. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was 7 or 8, we availed ourselves of some sort of
discount skiing thing at Madonna Mountain in Jeffersonville, Vermont. On Saturday, a
bus took us to the ski area, there was a chaperone, and a group skied together,
normally on the beginning and advanced beginner trails. Toward the end of the
season, two chaperones came, and the group was allowed to split in two, and choose
to do an intermediate trail or an advanced intermediate trail. I took the harder one,
natch, along with only two others of the group. I remember taking this trail because it
was deep in the woods instead of being open, because of a few sharp turns in it,
some pretty rough parts, one or two moguls to deal with, and at one point I obviously
misjudged something, because I recall going headfirst in two somersaults and
strangely landing back on my skis -- at a considerably lower speed. It was coooool.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy's
pathetic little meows when he is very sleepy. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This
page, Compositions, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sturlex, a hybrid subtance
used in fake gems used to decorate pens and sneakers. RECOMMENDATION AND
PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU
WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I play euphonium and tuba almost as well as I play
trombone -- which lately is hardly at all. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I

WERE IN CHARGE: The spelling "ledger" lines suddenly disappears from all music
notation programs and music notation texts. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,695.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.73 in Maynard, $2.77 in Hudson, New York,
$2.69 in Maynard, $2.79 in Cambridge, New York. CAN BE MADE PERFECT WITH
ENOUGH TRIAL AND ERROR sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some
wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Well, stuff happens, even for me. And there is plenty to report, so I'll skip the dada
doodoo and get right to the point. When last our intrepid person typing in third
person was viewed here, it was the day after graduation with a big sabbatical as far
as the eye can see. Well, as far as the naked eye can see. The metaphorical eye, that
is. The metaphorical naked eye. Metaphorically naked. The metaphorical
metaphorically naked eye can metaphorically see. Or metaphorically "see". Let me
start over.
Graduation is over. Sabbatical here! Two weeks less of it remaining than last time I
wrote in first person, but time is like that. And that's not even speaking
metaphorically. So the ground was hit by me, running. My first bigass project is to
finish the etudes. Even though the finished thingie will be in ten books and 700
pages, I'm now thinking of the etudes as one really, really big piece -- which can be
excerpted in performance -- that happened to take a bit more than twenty-two years
to write. You can tell it's an important piece because "twenty-two" is spelled out, just
like in the New York Times. Hmm, though their music writing is hardly what I'd call
serious ... I digress. So to return to the original, miniscule, point, the first project is to
finish the etudes. And since graduation, I wrote a very, very difficult one, #98, that
was very, very hard to write -- based very, very loosely on the very, very difficult
Chopin "Ocean Wave" etude, Op. 25 #12. So it goes up and down tempestuously in
tempestuous ways and has a few gazillion notes in both hands. It may be the hardest
tood yet (and the urge to go "MWA ha ha!" here is great). MWA ha ha! #99 is just
under way today, and will also be hard, but at least for once I have a title before it is
finished: Mano War. It's up to you, dear reader, to imagine how such an etude
behaves.
However, much working time has been usurped by traveling, doing stuff, and
traveling back. That, and sitting by while the old furnace was dismantled and a new
one was installed, in addition to a new water heater and a new radiator for the
upstairs bathroom. Understandably, during the three days that the jobs took, the cats
spent most of the time under the couch, where I understand it's quite dark. The most
impressive part of the job is probably the new vent that was installed for the gas
furnace -- to increase the efficiency, the venting goes right straight outside the house
instead of into the existing chimney (the old chimney is now nonfunctional -- we will
be renting it out for very, very teeny, and dark, parties). The outside manifestation of
the event looks like a travel hair dryer, and is not much larger than one. But a big
hole had to be drilled through the house for the vent, and that was noisy, noisy,
noisy, and took quite some time. The last part of the job was the new radiator, which
was going in as I left for the BMOP concert. More on that at the jump.
Hi! How are you? Did you enjoy the little bit of white (or light blue) space? Good. So I
went into BMOP, parked, walked around the Pru and Newbury Street, had a Sam
Adams Brick Red Ale at a pub (apparently not available in bottles yet), and then had
dinner at Conor Larkin's with John and MJ. We skipped the pre-concert stuff, since it's
always packed with the same questions ("Tell us about your process" "How did you
get the idea for the piece?" "Why is this so different from your other pieces?" "Do
these contact lenses make my eyes look fat?"), and beer is much nicer, and pointful,
than such things. The group of us sat toward the back of the balcony, and were very,

very impressed by how good BMOP sounded, and how everything sounded -- in the
compositional sense. There wasn't much music for just *some* of the orchestra,
though (note to self: a substantial part of the evening listening to *fat* orchestra
sound is very tiring) -- though Steven Stucky's piece did manage quite a bit of variety.
John and I started counting, on our fingers, the number of orchestral cliches in some
of the pieces, and we ran out of fingers. The concert concluded with Marty Boykan's
symphony, which was great -- and finally a chance to hear bits of the orchestra
instead of all of it. The opening piling of fifths returned at the end of the last
movement, and there was much low harp. Everything in between was pretty.
Meanwhile, Beff was excused from being around for the furnace installation because
she availed herself of a gig that we both had -- various concerts (three!) having to do
with the Phoenix Concerts' Hymn Tune project. We both wrote short piano trios based
on hymns, and were on the Wednesday preview, the Friday NYC show, and the
Saturday runout in Hudson, New York. I stayed at home to babysit the furnace people
and hear Marty's piece live, but got to drive to Hudson, stay with my own lovely wife
in a hotel, cruise the street of Hudson, have fancy beer on tap in a bookstore ("The
Spotted Dog", I believe), have a nice Japanese dinner, and walk into something called
an "Opera House" to hear our trios played live. The concert format, when explained,
sounds really lame: ten composers have written piano trios on or around specific
hymn tunes. Two women (Gilda Lyons, who runs Phoenix Concerts, and another
woman) sing the referenced hymns unaccompanied, followed by the piano trio that
references the hymns. It worked extremely well, however. Though I got to remember
how much I hate "The Old Rugged Cross" -- the tune itself. Danny Felsenfeld had a
nice piece based around Amazing Grace that ended on "now", Beff's was very pretty,
mine was oddly aggressive (surprise!), and there was a nice one by Roger Zahab, too
-- who was at the concert. So in the end, the concert was pornographic -- in the sense
that I can't tell you why it worked, but I knew it when I heard it.
The next day, which was the day before Memorial Day, we up and scooted out of the
hotel early and drove south -- not very far south -- to a tourist attraction called Olana
-- the house of the 19th century painter Frederick Church. The grounds are nice, the
views cool, the architecture inspired by a weird early form of multiculturalism, and in
a way it reminded me of Yaddo but with actual taste. We took the first available tour
with a guide who was strangely (and creepily) knowledgeable about everything
anyone could think of to ask. And then, in separate cars (because, you see, we'd
arrived separately), we up and drove back to Maynard, arriving late afternoon. Beer
and dinner was had. Then we had to get ready to drive to Maine!
For you see, Beff, newly 50, had to have her When-You've-Turned-50 procedure, and in
Maine since it's where her health insurance is. It's not the sort of thing you have
without health insurance. And so there was special diet for Monday -- Memorial Day,
by the way. We drove through a bunch of haze that was strange considering it wasn't
humid, which we later learned was smoke from Quebec wildfires -- and then on
Tuesday morning, I drove her the half-mile to the Eastern Maine Medical Center,
waited around, drove her back, and then rested. For that night, the two of us were to
have dinner with her colleague Chip and Chip's wife Charlie. Which we did, at a very
nice restaurant that served me a great, great Bloody Mary. I had salmon and Beff had
chicken. And then on the next day, we drove back to Maynard. The weather, by the
way, was strangely striped again. It was clear but cool when we left, but very hazy,
cloudy, and smoky on the way down, but clear and dry back in Maynard when we got
back. And the cats must have been angry, being left by themselves for 52 hours ...
two little barflets had to be cleaned up.
And, meanwhile, and finally, the New York New Music Ensemble performance

recordings of the Phillis Levin songs arrived, and those recordings replaced the
Collage ones in my webspace -- and referenced in to the left in red. Meanwhile, I
jacked up the levels on the Current Conditions performance and left only the
performance, even with all the damn noise, on the blue link to the left.
So, and, for -- it got hot, and humid, with bigass thunderstorms passing through,
especially at night ... and I finished #98 and gave it the title "Mosso" --- kind of the
long way around a not-pun. Since Chopin's etude was called Ocean Wave, mine is
about waves, too, which in the sea reports within the weather reports in Italian
newspapers were forecast as "mosso", "poco mosso" and "molto mosso". It's not
much, but it's all I have. Don't hate me for being beautiful.
And with that finished came the thinking for #99, about which you know, dear reader.
But wait ... there was yet another trip to take! Way back in October, and then in
November, and then in January, I tried to write a cute 3-4 minute piece for 4 cellos for
Rhonda Rider and whoever she could talk into playing it. But I wrote a 6-minute
thingie which didn't seem to stand on its own, so I added two movements to balance
it, and, and ... it's fast, has lots of counterpoint and antiphonal passing of notes in
long lines, and the MIDI sounds like Joe Liebermann talking. Well, Rhonda runs this
subset of Music at Salem (in New York!) called The Cello Seminar, wherein ten very
good cellists aged 21 to 25 spend a week on a farm rehearsing, playing in groups,
playing solos, taking lessons, eating, and playing silly games in the evenings. She
programmed my piece (called "Cell'Out", by the way) with all ten cellists and herself,
with David Russell conducting. Wow.
While, on the same day -- I got together with Bill Anderson of Cygnus to make little
flip videos of his plucky instruments (guitar, mandolin, tenor banjo, theorbo) for fuel
for an eventual piece for the group. He had us meet at the house of one of his friends
in New Paltz, out in the country, and for two hours we talked. That was after three
hours of driving, while on the radio I heard of a tornado watch for the area ... but
when it was over, I then up and drove to Salem where the cello seminar people were
-- at a lovely big farmhouse and various surrounding buildings -- and had dinner. And
then at nine o'clock, in the upstairs part of a converted barn, all the cellists got
together and rehearsed my piece. Understand, dear reader, that the space was a bit
small for this group, and hard for me to do anything but marvel at how enormously
BIG the sound was -- but also at how good these cellists were, and how even the hard
passagework, even in sections of three cellists, was hearable. It was also. Very. Hot.
In the room, so I didn't make a lot of comments. So then we up and played a silly
game that, like the Hymn Tune Project, sounds lame if you describe it, but is much,
much fun when you actually do it. Basically Dictionary with first lines of imaginary
romance novels. And then I was given "rustic" accommodations in the same room
where the rehearsal had been. And it rained much.
Yesterday, the day of the gig, was a bit of breakfast in the morning, lots of warming
up for the cellists, a drive to the concert venue -- which was two towns away, in
Cambridge (also in New York). There was a bit of rehearsing of my piece, and then
the concert. Each cellist did a solo turn, or a duo with piano (the Great Judy Gordon),
followed by a Saariaho piece for 8 cellos done by 11 and conducted by David Russell,
my piece under the same constrictions, and finally an arrangement of a D minor
chaconne of Bach for multifarious cellos. There was no professional recording made,
but one of the cellists had a Zoom which recorded some of the concert, and I
recorded the big stuff from in the audience on my Edirol. Understandably, the hall is a
bit echo-ey, and the size of the ensemble is vast, so it's hard to hear the details in the
fast music. But I have put up the performance of the slow movement -- which at least
moves slow enough to hear some of the musical things, save some imitative stuff in

the middle voices, which gets swallowed in the echo. I have described this
experience as Why Have One Chocolate From the Box When You Can Have A Whole
Vat -- 'cause, like you know, it was a very, very big sound. And in rehearsals and
performance I heard just about every detail of what I wrote. And so far I'm not
convinced it's a good piece. Save the slow movements, which has some nice things in
it. Which is why I'm letting you, dear reader, hear said slow movement -- see red link
above and on the left. It's totally fresh! And one of these days I'll hear it with a third
as many cellos, plus a fraction of a cellist. And -- oh, by the way, every piece was by
a composer who worked in the 20th or 21st century. No warhorses!
And of course after said concert -- by the way, there was some great playing and
some really nice music I hadn't heard before (Harbison's Abu Ghraib, Joan Tower's
Tres Lent) -- I drove home, which involved reacquainting myself with how slowly they
drive in upstate New York (we're talking 38 in a 55 zone, people), and making two
wrong turns because the "turn this way for Route 22" signs were obscured by tree
limbs .... And today, life begins anew with no trips until ... Friday! when we go to
Vermont for a couple of weeks. And who knows, maybe ETUDES FOR PIANO will be
finished in Vermont. Or not. Also on Friday I give a little "class" for the Brandeis
Alumni College, but I'm not letting that turn my smile upside down. For you see, my
reward at the end of the class is getting to go to Vermont. Well, that and retrieving
two hissing cats from under the couch, who now sense when they're going to be in a
box for three and a half hours.
And what other things? The Maids clean the house tomorrow! The new furnace gets
inspected Wednesday! We finally file our last will and testament, health care proxy,
etc., with a lawyer at the end of the month! They finally come and take our old oil
tank away at the end of the month! And Sunday is my birthday! We used to do wings
at the Ground Round for my birthday whenever feasible -- but last year and this, it'll
be the very juicy wings, and beer, at lunch, at the Burlington Brew Pub. Beff will be
driving.
Coming up -- L.A. and Utah. Writing music. Going to the bathroom. Changing minds.
All of this week's pictures except the first were taken with my cell phone. First we
have the house hole made by the people installing the vent for the furnace. Next,
four shots taken of, and from, Olana. Then the view of the haze and smoke on the
drive back from Bangor. The last four involve the cello seminar: the farmhouse where
we ate and the converted barn where my rehearsal was and where I slept; the eleven
cellists setting up for my rehearsal in the cramped space with angled ceilings; cello
cases lining the wall at the performance; and the audience for the event, just starting
to arrive, on risers. Bye.

JUNE 26 Breakfast was nothing. Lunch was a mozzarella pizza from Shaw's. Dinner
last night was fried chicken, deviled eggs, noodles, dumplings, and beer from a can.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 46.2 and 92.8. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Current Conditions. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST
UPDATE New tire $142 incl environmental impact fee. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Hannaford's in Burlington for discontinuing the
decide-your-own-marinade for the salmon they sell. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Farm House Tap and Grill in Burlington, despite the
overpeppiness of the wait staff, for a great meal done right, and not overly
expensive. PET PEEVE Cars that drive straight to the E-Z- Pass lanes and then realize
at the last minute they don't have an E-Z Pass. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: My first job interview ever was at Columbia in 1987 -- I didn't get the

job, but Walter Winslow did -- and at my job talk I played my old Elegy for Strings.
Impressive, sad sounding piece, with a complicated chart. The whole thing was about
all-interval tetrachords (which I used because Joe Dubiel had once said it was
impossible to write a harmonically varied piece using them), of which there are two
(0146, 0137). The whole structure was based on phrases that begin with one of them
and cadence on the other, then more chorale-like stuff that isolates one kind, then
the other, then back to the alternating of the two kinds. Clever, huh? And still it
sounds like Barber and Berg with whipped cream and a cherry to boot. So at the job
talk, immediately Suzie Blaustein said -- "that first chord is 0137, not 0146 like the
chart says." Sound of structure deflation. She quickly added, "that's okay. Just change
the number on the chart." More structure deflation. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT
LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cats being very curious and perturbed
by cat sounds on Ann's cell phone. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Compositions, Bio, Reviews 5. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pardluree, a transparent
extension for rugs and fingernail clippers. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE I hardly use them, but I own lots of font-making programs: TypeTool
2 and 3 for Windows, Fontographer 4.7, Fontographer 5, Font Lab, and Font Lab
Studio. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I'm the new
me. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,863. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY
$2.84 in Burlington, Vermont; $2.84 in Burlington, Vermont. SAY THIS FIVE TIMES
FAST sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a
head of steam.
I was there, but now I am no longer there. I am now here. Film at 11. "There" can be
Brandeis (yes, I promised I wasn't going back until the sabbatical was over, but there
was Alumni College to do, more shortly), and it can be Burlington, Vermont, or even
St. Albans. So lemme splain.
When last I was intrepid, I was embarking on that all-important penultimate tood,
#99, with a predetermined name: Mano War. Tee hee. Embarkment, that was done,
and I got a few days in on it. Then, on the 11th in the morning, I did a bunch of
service for Brandeis -- during reunions, various faculty teach proto-classes and take
questions for alumni, and I retooled my old "Rubber Bands" teach-in -- about tension
and release in music. The idea was to show tension and release at several levels in
several kinds of music, be it in repeated patterns, in delayed cadences, or even in
frustrated key schemes (I don't know what that is either, but it was fun to type). As is
customary for classes in music, several were far ahead of the others, and had good,
penetrating questions that were probably above the heads of most of the others, but
you know, you run with it. One attender even noted that a Schumann song I played
had an "unresolved tritone" at the end,and ... well, I answered as best I could. I had a
microphone and was talking to an audience of 60, but I went without the mike
whenever was feasible. I had played a Machaut example as a different kind of tension
and release, and I got a complex question about why fourths and fifths were used
earlier than thirds for harmonization, and OOH! the complicated answer ensued, even
though it was even sketchier than the Readers Digest version of the answer. And, and
... the people running the various classes gave me a travel mug, and I drove home.
Almost immediately after which we retrieved the cats from their hiding places under
the couch, boxed 'em up, and drove, with lots of stuff, for a two-week stint at the
place in Vermont. We chose the Route 3/Everett Turnpike/Route 293 spoke off of 495
since it's shorter and usually faster, but some dumb clucks (or something that
rhymes with clucks) decided to have a breathtaking accident right in the construction
zone, and just shy of some toll booths. So the 20 minutes that that route saves was
eaten up by the delay the dumb clucks caused -- incidentally, we did get to

rubberneck and see a car that was exactly upside down, with one wheel completely
gone. Beff, just 10 minutes behind me, though, was subjected to an hour delay. So I
got to the place considerably in advance, which is probably good, since I had the
cats. The cats were fine and recognized their occasional summer digs, and of course
wanted cat treats right away. When Beff arrived, just after 5, we split up the duties:
she cleaned and installed us, and I went to the supermarket for staples et al. That
night, dinner was salmon filets marinated in a garlic dill marinade. And we saw that it
was good.
When feasible, we tried to time dinner around the time of the local TV news -- even
though that made it almost 3 hours before sunset -- because, of course, it was
nostalgic, in a certain way. A whole hour of local stuff -- who can resist that? But our
last connection to our glorious pre-middle-age past, Marseilis Parsons, was not in
evidence either as a newsreader or reporter. Beff found out later that he had retired
just this year. And so all that is left now is a folksy crew either without regional
accents, or mightily suppressing Vermont accents. The field reporters, however, kept
theirs when feasible. Even for weird stories like snipers that shoot at horses in the
pastures.
We had scheduled some people to come and visit, but some didn't come due to ...
marital strife. But there was a lovely hot weekend day when the Feurzeig family, all of
them, came for lunch, swimming, and a trip to the dog park (luckily they brought
their dog). David Feurzeig is the new composer at the University of Vermont, and of
course composers tend to stick together (and laugh at the same dorky jokes). We got
to experience the having of four kids thing, except that when the day was over, we
were back to zero. Whew! That was a close one. I like kids that come with a reset
button.
There were a few trips to local restaurants, all of them fantastic, and one of them
quite new. Locavorism is strong in the area, both the pretentious and the
unpretentious version, and we got to experience both. Locavorism in Burlington
means there is alway an available entree of two, three, or four different Vermont
cheeses, as well as "grass-fed" beef burgers. Cows eat something besides grass?
How will I remember the spaces on the bass staff? Pretentious was the Bluebird Cafe
a fairly short drive from where we were, but I must say the garlic aioli (redundant,
since the "ai" on "aioli" means garlic) that comes with their fries is pretty durn
special. If filling. Their steak tartare was good, too, but the texture and color was not
unlike something' I et 'n' lost. The Hill something IPA we got was great -- and they had
it at another place we went, too.
And that place was the Farmhous Tap and Grill, a very new and trendy restaurant in
the space taken for a long time by McDonald's. They have 25 great beers on tap, the
cheese plates, and the same kinds of nice starters, and of course locavorism. We got
local fried zucchini, for instance, and a local cucumber salad, and yes, I got grass-fed
beef. Some Cows Eat Grass. Plus, lovely beer.
However, even BEFORE all that happened, we had a two-restaurant day. Why,
Batman, why? Because it was my birthday, and in Ye Olden Tyme, we would do my
birthday as Buffalo wings at the Ground Round -- we had a less developed sense of
irony at the time. So I insisted on some wings at the Burlington Brew Pub, since I like
their peppery sauce and they make their own beer -- but since it was a Sunday, Beff
wanted to do dim sum, too. And the Sunday after she would be at U Maine doing
Chair stuff. So, okay. Dim sum at the Single Pebble was great, and then we stretched
out a bit. Beff went to a stupid meeting of the Association of the summer camps of
which the Wiemann camp is a member, and on it dragged. Finally I got my wings. And

sated was I.
As to more and more wings -- we also ate at a restaurant very close by, which was
under new management, and the wings were ... okay. And after we had done a 12:15
showing of Toy Story 3 (great!!!!), we moseyed to Buffalo Wild Wings in the Shelburne
Road Plaza, a sign for which we had seen on the way to the movie. I liked that, too,
and we lucked in to 50 cent wing Tuesday. Because, you see, it was Tuesday. I liked it
a lot -- I got the hot Buffalo, out of a choice of 16, and Beff got the Asian something
wings. And salad, too. So there.
And finally -- I drove to Warner's snack bar in St. Albans for lunch on one of the days
Beff was in Maine. It was awesome. Or not. But how many times can you go to your
first job, with the same bosses, 34 years later, who recognize you? That's right: once.
But we did do things besides eat -- and do Facebook updates. To wit, we brought our
working 88-key keyboard and set up, and Beff worked on music for trumpet, cello and
piano -- for a recording! Myself, I finished etude 99, then started and finished etudes
100, 100a and 100b. Yes, the etudes are done, done, done for all time! (unless I start
writing pantoozlers), and I went out with a metaphorical bang. At the Buffalo wings
dinner on my birthday, I told Beff I wanted to do a four-hands etude to end the set
that was also two different two-hands etudes that could be played together or
separately. Without pause, she said, "Call it 'Two Great Tastes'". Brilliant. So the two
constituent toods are called Erdnubutter and Cioccolato -- one on chromatic scales
in compound time, one on repeated chords that crescendo and diminuendo, in simple
time. And two-thirds of the way through, they bleed into each other. In Erdnubutter
at that moment, there is the indication "you got cioccolato in my erdnubutter!"
Similar story for Cioccolato. I was also writing these for Adam Marks and Amy Briggs,
so there are also quotes from toods associated with them, and -- of course -- the
ending of #100 is exactly the same as the ending of #1: lowest two black keys
played with fist. Woo hoo!
So there, smarty pants. So that next weekend Beff had to go to U Maine -- six hour
drive -- for Chair type stuff, and while that was happening I was going onto the next
thing -- which made me very glad to have installed the Finale 2011 update. On Jason
Fettig's nudging, I arranged all of Stolen Moments (string quartet, woodwind quintet,
piano) for chamber orchestra with a full string section and double winds. The new
features in Finale made it much less cumbersome to do the arrangement over the top
of the original scoring -- though there is so much music there -- 25 minutes and four
movements -- and so much that had to be reconstituted that the arrangement took
six full working days. But hey. I've got another orchestra piece without all the
chocolate mess! Woo hoo!
Meanwhile. Sunsets in Vermont. Awesome.
Our last full day in Vermont -- yesterday -- included our first actual bike ride, the
arrival of Beff's sister Ann (a co-owner of the place), packing up, and attending a
huge barbecue at one of the other places in the compound. For that we had to
provide a side dish, which was various dumplings and stuff from an outdoor vendor in
downtown Burlington. None of the others understood that as a side dish, so we pretty
much helped ourselves to all of them ....
And today was outta Burlington day (How could we be outta Burlington? Didn't we
just buy more?). We got up before the alarm, which was set to 5 -- since Beff had to
be at U Maine at around noon. We collected the cats and other various stuff, and I
drove back to Maynard -- arriving even before the post office was open, so I didn't

immediately get the held mail. Beff, meanwhile, was and is in Maine. Back here I
unpacked, transferred various files to my main working computer, mowed a buttload
of lawn in the humidity, turned on some air conditioning, took two brief
constitutionals on the hammock, and, well, here I am.
So, coming up is lunch with Hayes at MadCowell (typing error intentional), a visit to a
lawyer's office to get our wills and health care proxies, and a company coming to take
$350 of our soft-earned money in exchange for taking out the old oil tank and
bringing it with them. Then, next weekend, quick trip to L.A. and back for the Music
Teachers Association of California Bash, and then ... uh, back to Vermont. With yet
more pieces to write or find excuses not to write. Plus, entertain.
Today' pictures are all from Vermont. First, my working area in the downstairs; a view
towards New York state from the beach; Cammy in the window; the sketch for Etude
#100 in a very bad reduction; a breakfast I made; sour freezer pops; two views of the
amazing June 20 sunset; an earlier sunset closeup; and the cats being very curious
about the cat ring tones Ann played on her phone. Bye.

JULY 7 (il compleanno, l'anniversaire, geburtstag, of Amy Briggs) Breakfast was an

egg, bacon and cheese sandwich on a whole wheat bulkie, orange juice and coffee.
Lunch yesterday was absolutely nothing. Dinner was the salmon salad at the Blue
Coyote Grill in Maynard. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 50.7 and
99.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The piano break of Stolen
Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Parking at Logan Airport $72.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Airlines that charge
extra for luggage and onboard food -- which is all of them; and whoever designed
LAX Airport. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Whoever
employs the airline scanner people at LAX -- Zoom! And MTAC for the fun, fun
conference. PET PEEVE People who obsessively list their pet peeves. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, I was considered, for
whatever reason, to be a good enough trombonist to be inserted into the second
trombone section at the high school district music festival held at BFA. I'm not sure if
we still have any pictures from that event. Somehow, a reel-to-reel of the entire
concert was procured, and I absconded with all my second trombone parts. And
obsessively, I played the band portion of the tape and played along on the second
trombone part. My poor parents. (it was worse, of course, when I started writing
music, which I had to do in the living room, because that's where the piano was -and there was this one piece that had an ostinato in parallel fifths and octaves that
my mother absolutely hated ... MWA ha ha). NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST
WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The quality of their meows when it is this
hot. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S
MADE-UP WORD: spickle, a seldom-used plastery substance cured in vinegar and
brine. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO
WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can pronounce
msinairatnemhsilbatsesiditna. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Food stains on your shirt means you're really cool. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 14,867. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.66 in Maynard. THERE'S A
KIND OF HUSH sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I
forgot about, a head of steam.
It's another one of those I was there but now I am here weeks, and that doesn't bode
well for the future, unless it does. I could splain, and I probably will. But first let me
note that both air conditioners have been going full blast for some time now, and are
having a devil of a time keeping up. There. As advertised, I noted that both air

conditioners have been going full blast for some time now, and are having a devil of a
time keeping up. And the cold water pipes in the basement are sweating, which is
usually not their wont.
As to whassup. Lotsa stuff. The most time-consuming task, possibly, during this last
reporting period was being an external evaluator (or evaluatrix, as I like to call it) for
an academic promotion (who? I can't say. Literally). Otherwise, it's been lazy summer
days with sweat-machen chores, shopping, and a little bit of bouncing up and down
to do. The best things in life are free. Life is an anagram of file. And dagnabbit, it's
the time of year when plenty of requests come in for similar external evaluations.
Dear reader, I do not always say yes.
So soon after this last update, I produced a whole mess o' stuff to send to Peters,
including all of Book X, and some suggestions for some excerpted editions of them.
We'll see if out those pan. Also some other scores to print and send out, etc., ad
infinitum. At the post office they call me "David" because that is my name. Actually,
they don't call me anything. They don't know my name. I don't need to be where
everybody knows my name.
On the day we left Vermont, we had split screen existences, briefly. As Beff had to do
U Maine stuff and I hunkered down here in Maynard. There was plenty to accomplish
in the first several days back, and it began with a Monday at MacDowell -- uh, driving
to MacDowell, that is -- to have a nice lunch with Hayes, who is there, and of course
visiting the NH State Liquor Store for severely discounted wines and the Ocean State
Job Lots for severely discounted who the hell knows what they'll have TODAY? Well, at
Job Lots it was baked beans and Steaz iced tea ... and at the liquor store it was Ballet
of Angels wine, which Beff and I have had a lot (this batch, sampled later, pretty
much sucked as big as big ones get). And, incidentally, on the way, I stopped at the
health food store in Groton on the way up, and got TWO varieties of "Real Pickles",
which I always like, and which are really hard to find -- dills and garlic dills. They fit
the description of "just what Davy needs, when he needs it". As to Hayes, it was good
to see him and talk to him and hear the organ prelude he was about to finish. He is in
the Watson studio, where I was twice, and ... oh yeah, we ate at Noney's. My first
CHEEZBORGR PLATTER in many years. Uh, or probably at least since I had it in the
same place with Sarah Manguso in 2007. But am I dropping names? Yep.
That night, back got Beff, but more was to be accomplished. For you see, we finally
got our acts together, as aren't-you-old-yet people, to file our wills, health care
proxies, and other important legal documents. This included a drive to West Concord,
a commuter rail train, a subway, a bit of around-farting, a massive document-signing
session, a subway, an Asian fusion lunch in Porter Square, the purchase of two new
sound effects toys and a birdsong book, a commuter rail, and a drive back home. And
we made sure to include a few nonprofits in our wills as beneficiaries -- namely VCCA,
MacDowell, Yaddo, and BMOP. So there. That night we had the Ballet of Angels wine
with our swordfish dinner, and it ... well, it sucked. The swordfish, though, was good.
Ah, pesce spada. Five letters in each word.
And the day after that! Even more! For as new owners of a gas heat furnace, we were
required by law to get rid of the old oil storage tank within one year (otherwise it is
classified as "abandoned", or so we were told). Well, for just $350, Tanks-Away, or
something like that, came in, drained the tank (didn't let us have the $240 of old oil,
though), disinstalled it, and cemented the holes where the filler pipes had been, and
took everything away. All they left us was a hint of heating oil fumes, which
dissipated within a couple of days. Fascinating.

At the end of the week, we did dinner at the Cast Iron Kitchen for the first time in
several months, and the sound effect box certainly came in handy. I mean, who
wouldn't want to SEEM to press on a nipple and get ... applause ... audience
laughter ... rim shots ... cash register sounds ... For the record, I got the ziti, again,
and it was VASTLY improved over the last time I had had it. Mostly because I am a big
fan of garlic.
Meanwhile, embark I did on the next project, which is solo cello, for Rhonda Rider.
Non ti merdo when I tell you it has to do with a residency at the South Rim of the
Grand Canyon (I don't know if "south rim" gets the initial caps, but I decided to give it
the respect it is due, if any), and a bunch of composers are writing for her loosely
(very loosely) based on the Big Ideas of the Grand Canyon. Of those Big Ideas I chose
water (water is big, right?). And in several hot or not so hot morns and afternoons, I
have been writing that piece. Which is not, so far, finished. FWIW, in the course of
about 75 measures, I have slowly descended from the high register to the middle
register of the instrument. The C string is not yet in evidence. Dear reader, I'm sure
you have been clonked on the head with how the metaphor being belabored in this
piece. On to the next paragraph.
Incidentally, I grew up listening to the Grand Canyon Suite by Ferde Grofe (five letters
in each name, hmmm...). But what I really mean is I grew up being in the room when
my parents listened to the Grand Canyon Suite. I made a conscious decision not to
quote any of it in my piece. It's a hard decision to make unconsciously.
Being that we had been gone to Vermont for two weeks, there was plenty of mowing
-- all of it, in fact -- to be accomplished when we got back, and that is very tiring and
time consuming. I didn't mind, though. Since that mow, very little has grown back
because of the heat and humidity and the total lack of rain -- indeed, the Browning of
the Yards is in full swing. So in the course of my career I've progressed from
brownnoser to brownyarder. On top of the mowing, there has been much
consumption of freezer pops, normally sugar-free. For it is the hot part of the
summer.
Hottest, in fact, in the ten years we've been here (nine years eleven months, but who
is counting?), as you'll note by the temperature extremes. I was pleased, in fact, to
be absent for three of those stratospheric temp days, but I was beezy with my own
stuff, as will be learned shortly. Lawn mowing will happen in the darker portion of the
day, as long as it's not like yesterday, in which the temp was still 93 at sundown. It
should be no surprise to note that there are Heat Advisories up. And places as far
north as Winooski were 100 degrees yesterday.
And meantime, I've been to Los Angeles! I'm back! Yes, sunny California, except for ...
uh, when I was there. But backtracking a bit is to be done by me, and here, and now.
The Music Teachers Association of California commissioned me for intermediate level
pieces for four hands, which I fulfilled last July. Fulfilled, that is, by writing seven
miniatures for piano four hands, calling it "Etude-Fantasies", and then sitting back
waiting for the glory to wash over me. I worked with Cathy O'Connor, who has some
important role within the MTAC and its foundation. Peters made some lovely bound
scores and made them reasonably priced.
So over the Fourth of July weekend, the MTAC held their annual conference at the
Airport Marriott in Los Angeles -- which involved turning banquet rooms of various
sizes into concert venues, practice rooms, and a giant exhibitor room. It reminded me
of the Midwest Clinic from 2004, except maybe about a quarter of that size. My job:
blow into town, coach three duos who have learned the Etude-Fantasies (ranging in

age from 9 to 16), listen to a student composer concert and comment on the pieces
I've heard. So on Sunday flew I, directly, into LA, and there was Kate Vincent, a violist
whom I know from the Boston scene. I asked what brought her to LA, and she noted
that she now ... lives there. Even though apparently she's still a big-time Boston
gigger with BMOP, et al. Talk about a hell of a commute. And by the way, the scenery
in the last two hours of the flight was very nice, thank you very much. Clear as a bell,
not a cloud to be seen, north rim of the Grand Canyon, maybe .... until we got to LA,
where there was a low overcast, possibly fog, and it was cloudy-feeling. Until it
burned away and there was a hazy feeling.
Getting to the Marriott was no problem, and neither was eating at the sports bar (the
California avocado chicken sandwich) within the Marriott. After a nap, I found Cathy
O'Connor, and we did a little beer. She had been putting on concerts of all the 24
commissions prior to mine, and was ready to relax, natch. Others involved in the
process were nearby. Later, for dinner, I went back to the sports bar, had Buffalo
wings, and all was right with the world. The clouds had cleared and I could see
Downtown LA w-a-a-y in the distance from my hotel room on the 12th floor. I could
also see, on the left, planes landing and on the right, planes taxiing to take off. They
don't call it the Airport Marriott for nuthin'.
And then came the coaching with the three duos, who went in order of age (youngest
to oldest), and who gave little speeches before they played. Looking over my pieces, I
thought there was quite a bit that would seem difficult to young players, but I was
wrong. All six students nailed it in their own ways -- and played it differently from
each other, which I liked. And there was a bit AV setup -- two Jumbotronish monitors
surrounding the stage, and cameras set up to film the hands and the scores. It was
fun, and slightly surreal, hearing my pieces and having all the eye candy whenever I
wanted it. One of my miniatures, called Horizons, was in 7/8, and of course all the
players thought it was tricky, but did it sound hard? Nope, even sounded a little like
Summertime. And I had a microphone and did a bit of mugging for the cameras, and
tried to keep it lively. Afterwards, a small eternity was spent autographing scores.
Then Cathy and I had a beer.
After that was a concert of young composer prizewinners, ranging from film scores to
serious to be bop, and each one was quite sophisticated. My job was to lead
something like a masterclass with the composers afterwards, and I did the best I
could -- seeing as I was at a lectern and was amplified, and they weren't. Some of
these composers are, or will be, studying with people I actually know. So there.
Then Cathy and I had a beer.
And were joined by a bunch of people for dinner. At the sports bar, natch. And
carousing until we stopped. Then, bed, early trip to airport (LAX traffic is tremendous
at 6:15 am!) and ride back. I got in just in time for Boston rush hour, which was ...
unimpressive! The car thermometer said it was as hot as 102 in some of my drive,
and what it is, too. But it sure was hot, and even the air conditioned rooms were not
terribly air conditioned. So it was 6, and the idea was to go to an air conditioned
place for dinner that wasn't too fancy. Hence the Blue Coyote. And I got that salmon
salad thing and Beff got onion soup followed by a salad. And we saw, and tasted, that
it was good. Sleeping last night -- just fine.
I had, meanwhile, gotten an e-mail that the New England Philharmonic has
programmed my Marine Chamber Orchestra piece "Current Conditions" for its
February concert (I'll be in France) and how much would parts rental be. While I was

in my hotel room, I was looking at my list of publications on the back cover of the
Peters Edition of the Etude-Fantasies and ... oh, there's Current Conditions, Edition
Peters 68305! So it was an easy answer: "I dunno. Call Peters". Woo hoo, I say, and
sometimes say it backwards. Oh, ow oo is an anagram of woo hoo.
And now, mid-day here in swelterville, we are eating cold stuff, drinking cold stuff,
and mostly staying in the rooms with air conditioners. We did laundry in the morning,
and the dryer seemed not to be able to find any dry air with which to do its task. So
our, uh, do they call it "analog air dryer?" (drying rack, yes, I know) was put into
service for a little while. When Sunny went out, he put it into service, too. And now
we're just waiting for it to cool down (good luck on that) so we can muster enough
energy to complain about how little energy we have.
So, a little bit of lawnmowing to do before we return to Vermont at the end of the
week. There will be the dance of packing and trying to fool the cats into thinking
they're not going to be put into boxes (that part gets harder and harder), the driving,
and ... the land of no air conditioners. Lawdy. This also means the next update here is
some time in August. Deal with it. And during that time ... the trip to Utah! the trip
back from Utah! Not to mention the trip from Burlington to Boston to get the plane to
Utah! And the trip back to Vermont from Boston!
I haven't been taking pictures, so not much to look at this week. Admire two shots -from my cell phone -- looking in two different directions from my Marriott hotel room
-- and the display of etude-fantasies for sale at the convention. Followed by as much
outdoor cuteness we can muster in the current temperature -- Sunny and the drying
rack. Bye.

JULY 30 Breakfast was nothing. Lunch was the chicken Caesar wrap at the Halfway
Cafe. Dinner last night was slight Buffalo wings and a chicken pesto panini at The
Alchemist in Waterbury, Vermont. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE JULY 7 UPDATE
56.1 and 95.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First movement of
Stolen Moments,only because I was checking a link to it. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE
LAST UPDATE Lawyer stuff $1487. A year of car insurance $994. COMPANIES THAT
HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Duffy's Pickles of Waterbury, Vermont,
for not showing up to the Waterbury Farmer's Market. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Duffy's Pickles (which we bought from another
vendor) because they be so good; Buffalo Wild Wings for the free wings. PET PEEVE
Left-turning cars that leave no room for traffic to get by (again!) POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Two things I improved at when I was 7 or 8 were for mere
financial gain. My mother promised me 10 cents per typing lesson I would type up
from her college typing book; and 10 cents for each new piano piece learned from my
older siblings' method books. One day Mom owed me like $1.80 for piano pieces, so
she changed the reqirement to memorized pieces. I still made ou like a bandit.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy's
need for attention at all hours, yet his mysterious disappearance to we know not
where when we have company. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sonoli, a frozen bakery
confection that didn't catch on. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST THREE WEEKS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE I have a blog. Truth be told, that info is on Jim Primosch's blog. But nowhere
else. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Food stains on
your shirt means you're really cool. STUPIDEST RECENT THING DONE BY DAVY I put
my hand on the lawnmower's air filter when it was very hot. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 15,135. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.63 in Maynard, $2.67 in

Burlington, $2.81 in Waterbury. YOU CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE sticky gold stars,
the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Dear reader, I am back from Vermont while not actually being from Vermont. But first,
a nonsense sentence. Whinty prine farlet gimpse in das prinstipoozie buff. Now that
we know that what do we do?
But first. We went to Vermont! We've been there for three weeks! And we did things.
Things were done by us! Beth put the finishing touches on a piece for her trumpet
colleague Jack, for trumpet, cello and piano; and started a new ensemble piece. She
also drove TWICE to and from the U of Maine for things relating to her chairmanship
and to the summer music camp they hold there. Whoo doggie, pardners.
We got there while the Big Heat was still on, and sleeping was difficult even with two
fans blasting. But finally the heat broke. And things started feeling more normal. And
some nights, even, we used ... a ... blanket! The cats lik it when we sleep with a
blanket. When I say "the cats", I mean Sunny.
As for me, I wrote the rest of a solo cello piece for Rhonda Rider, capping out at about
six or seven minutes, on the theme of water, for her residency at the Grand Canyon.
At last check in this space, I hadn't used the C string yet, having started very high
(play with puns on THAT one, smarty pants!). Once I did get to the C string, I used it
just as much as I wanted to, and often in double stops. With the G string, of course,
silly. Double stops with the C and D or A strings require a four-dimensional bow. And
broad strokes, blahdy blahdy, and back to the higher register for an abbreviated
recaps. I do a lot of abbreviated recaps. Does that make me a ... soupir ... onedimensional formalist? In due time (before it was due, time), I sent it to her. As to the
title, Glitter and Glisten (you know, the sun on pools of water, etc.) were just silly and
kind of funny-tasting. So I looked them up in the online Italian dictionary. Settling on
"Luccicare". To glisten. Now I am closer than ever to that Italian translation of Winter
Wonderland! Snow is glistening? Neve luccica!
Now that didn't take that much time at all, did it?
It turns out now that when I am slow to rev up on a new piece, or stuck in one, I no
longer write piano etudes. Heck -- would you? This is because, and duh, the set of
etudes is finished. So proclaimed Davy, with his official proclaiming stick, also fond of
referring to itself in the third person. But will the proclaiming stick? Well, so far it has.
And so when Luccicare was finished, and Beff was gone for four days to Maine,
instead of getting right to the next piece (cello and 15 strings), which I wasn't ready
to start, I ... started a blog!
I started a blog!
Called zio davino, apparently, don't know. See the "Blog" links twice on this page.
There are currently ten entries, including one about dreaming music, one about how
many friggin letters we composers have to write for other composers, one about
writing simple music, one about music copying in the old days, three about Sound
Effects toys, etc., etc. The rate of new blog posts will slow considerably, and there is
already a blog entry apologizing for that, too. So. I figured out how to get YouTube
movies into the blog posts, including movies for only the blog -- turns out I can make
movies on my YouTube channel unlisted. How 'BOUT that? Though I can't attach
sound files, alas, to illustrate any of my points. I will soon figure out if I can sneak
some into YouTube movies or something.

Alas, Jim Primosch discovered my blog pretty quickly, and blogged that I was now
blogging. I mean, talk about circular referentiality. Which I do, a lot, Oscar, and you
will, too. I'm keeping the blog secret to only the low two figures who read this thing
here, and whoever finds it or is recommended it. Because, you see, and I say this not
at all in Italian, I am worth it. Mostly (except occasionally, like will happen soon) there
won't be much overlap between this page and the blog.
So in Vermont, work did get done, and I did eventually start that cello and string
orchestra piece -- I have about three and a half minutes that feels like it is still
introductory, which is tragic considering it is supposed to be ten minutes max. When
last I worked on the piece, I was working on building a big upbeat to the "meat" of
the piece. Which will be, wow, maybe four minutes in.
Meantime, there was also plenty of entertaining to do. On separate weekends, and
both while Beff was in Maine, we (I) were visited by Jared and Vivan, and later John
and MJ. That involved some trips into Burlington for eating and shopping, some
grilling at home, a drive down Route 100 for rusticness and the like, plenty of eating
at very good restaurants, and water sports. Which means I should bring up now ...
Kayaks. The place owns two of them, with cheap plastic paddles. I was initially
resistant to the idea of going out in the wavy lake with a watercraft with which I had
no experience, while hardly being able to grip the paddle because of the sunscreen -plus, Beff didn't tell me about the leg bracing thingies -- where you brace your legs
inside the kayak so that you are firmly attached thereto. Ah, once I found out about
THEM, there was stopping me! But not much of it. I went out a few times with Beff,
then once on my own, and again for a longer spell with Beff, and I now enjoy it. Witty
comment of this period was on Facebook, when I Status Updated "...kayaked for the
second time in his life". Augustus Arnone commented "98 more times to go." So John
and MJ kayayed several times while I went swimming several times. Jared swam, and
Vivian drew and/or slept.
A longer visit, and the last one of this summer, was Beff's colleagues Liz and Denny,
with whom we did NO water sports. But we did do the Farmhouse Tap and Grill with
them, which was spantaculicious. And once all the entertaining was accomplished, of
course we got back to work. But in my case, only for a couple of days because I am
back here in Maynard, for reasons soon to be discussed. Beff, meanwhile, will begin
the 2010 iteration of the Vermont Youth Orchestra Camp on Sunday. Then she will
continue. Then it will stop.
I go to Utah on Sunday. So I am in Maynard today, after being away from it three
weeks, to deal with bills, lawn mowing, and all that jazz. Then I get back Thursday,
return on Friday to Vermont, and come back to Maynard, again, on the following
Monday. Then, no traveling for a while.
On Monday of this week, I drove 290 miles, most of it on non-interstate roads in
Vermont, and it was for a good cause. Karl Larson, whom faithful readers may have
recognized as the page turner on the I-Chen Yeh YouTube tood videos, is a
performance fellow at the Bang on a Can Summer Institute at the Mass MOCA. He
and I-Chen are both DMA students in the contemporary performance program at
Bowling Green State in Ohio, and apparently it's a Heavy Davy department. As in,
everyone does toods. Plus, it's just FUN to say "Heavy Davy" over and over. I hadn't
heard him play -- I just saw him turn pages and point a microphone, so I was
delighted to drive to North Adams and hear how completely wonderfully he played
toods #84 and #85 -- both of them premieres. I even forgot about, almost, the
completely clueless long construction delay I had to endure on the way.

It was a quite informal setting within the galleries of the museum -- with a solo cello
piece and a solo glock piece goin' down in a big room, followed by my toods and a
John Zorn piece in another room. The two toods Karl chose were related, intentionally
-- both starting with repeated D's and ending with a C#-D-E sonority. The slower one
turns out to be harder, according to Karl. See red "Hairpinning" and "Diminishing"
links up to the left.
Last night we went to Waterbury for the Farmers Market. Rick Moody had found some
jalapeno dill pickles in Johnson when he was at the writer's conference there, and told
me they were called Duffy's and were made in Waterbury. Internet research showed
that Duffy's sold at said Farmers Market, so we went in and decided to do dinner
there, too, at a brew pub called the Alchemist. Duffy's, however, was a no-show.
Luckily, the woman selling lamb and chicken had Duffys for the sandwiches she
made, and she offered to sell me a jar. I bought it. As well as other things from other
vendors. And the Duffys -- I recommend them. I also got the jalapeno relish up the
road. For the future...
Meanwhile, a parent of the third duo who played the Etude-Fantasies in LA put a
video up on YouTube, so one can hear them -- red Etude-Fantasies link up there. If you
really look hard on UToob, you'll also find me coaching the same two -- I myself can't
watch it, 'cause, like, you know, it's me. Ewww.
So here I am after driving back this morning, Beff and I skyped the bill paying info, I
went into town, hammocked a bit, and mowed some lawn before the lawnmower
overheated. Stupid me put my hand on a very hot part to see if it was still hot, and
the answer was in the affirmative. This paragraph was typed with only my RIGHT
hand.
So here comes Utah, there goes Utah. August is serene, mostly, with dentist visit,
checkup, etc. but no traveling of which I am aware. More RELAX. And that makes
Davy not a dull boy.
This week's pictures were, unsurprisingly, taken in Vermont, and are what they
appear to be. The one in front of a house and tree -- that's the house in which I grew
up. My sister used to jump over that tree. Bye.

AUGUST 13 Breakfast was fake eggs, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was Cast Iron
Kitchen leftovers -- blackened swordfish and sticky rice, in my case. Dinner last night
was salad and Buffalo wings at the Halfway Cafe. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE
LAST UPDATE 54.3 and 93.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS
Double Fantasy -- just ripped it from a CD just arrived from Phoenix Concerts. LARGE
EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Not much beyond the usual expenses. COMPANIES
THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY US Airways, just 'cause. Because
like all other airlines except Southwest, bags and food are extra. COMPANIES THAT
HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY US Airways for punctuality, helpfulness, and
for my finally discovering that one could park rather close to the counter at Logan
Airport. PET PEEVE Lawnmowers that conk out three months after you buy them, and
the repair people who presume it's because you didn't baby yours enough.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Way back when -- I was probably 12? 13? -my father brought home a stray black and white tiger cat that had been found in the
paper mill where he worked. The cat was a little skittish, but when it was petted, it
purred loudly. So I suggested we name it Percy, after the purring. We did. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Random meowage.

UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
flageolimi, a ragged generic shape. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWOWEEKS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE bendy thumbs that are also perpetually crackable. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Trampolines for everybody. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 15,155. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.67 in Maynard, $2.75 in
Burlington, $2.66 in Maynard. THE LOGARITHMIC SCALE SKIPS OVER THESE sticky
gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of
steam.
When last this space was filled with new verbiage, the verbiage was new, though the
world was still very, very old. Much older than you. Much older than me. Much older
than you and me put together -- presuming that was even possible. And now these
words -- these very words you read right now. Are newer than the older words. And
the world is still very, very old.
Second verse, same as the first.
When last there was intrepidness in this space, I had burned my palm on the
lawnmower and I was soon to embark in a westerly direction, going two time zones
earlier. Because of the lawnmower stupidness -- I had no suitable vehicle for
transporting the existing (yellow) lawnmower for warranty service -- I up and got
another (black) one (they are so inexpensive nowadays!) at Aubuchon Hardware in
town, and they delivered it! For free! Just like they delivered the grill! For free! And
with much sweating aforethought, the rest of the lawn got mowed. And the big pile of
bills got paid, just like they are supposed to so that we can continue to cook, heat,
compute, make phone calls, and play with our dimples.
And then I made an early, early drive to Logan Airport to catch the 6:25 am for
Phoenix, with a plane change there for Salt Lake City. I hadn't noticed before that
there is a separate path to "Parking for B terminal", where US Airways resides, so I
took that and parked and got on the elevator. Lo and behold, when I exited the
elevator, the US Airways counter was about thirty feet away. Excellent, so my
nefarious plan is working. I did the stuff everyone else has to do to be certified
airworthy. On the way out to Utah, I sat next to small people, which meant I had
plenty of elbow room if I needed it.
And I was going to Utah for a four-day sentence, to do the beezness of the Barlow
Prize and Barlow commissions. The beezness end of what we did, and how we got
there is private. The composition of the advisory board is public, though, and there
were two new members this year: Todd Coleman and Stacy Garrop. I was to meet
Todd at the Canyonlands Transportation desk in the airport for our ride to the
Snowbird Ski Lodge, where all the beezness takes place, and that I did. Snowbird is a
sprawling complex of at least four large buildings, trams, sports, trails, etc., with a
ton of shops and restaurants. And our meals were covered, and very good. It was
easy to gain several pounds per day from the eating alone. I went from a full
breakfast (Monday) to none (Thursday), and had lots of good food. Plus, I got in one
long walk along one of the trails on site.
It was three days of hard work, a brief Thursday morning meeting, and off we went,
not to be seen in the same configuration again for another year. And we will, Oscar,
we will. During my time at Snowbird, not much else got done beside e-mail and
eating.
On the trip back, I sat exclusively next to very wide people. It was fun, and

sometimes scary, to view the manifestations of the monsoon effect in that part of the
country, which was manifesting itself earlier than is customary -- large, high, billowy
clouds in abundance -- and landing in Phoenix when it was overcast! The view for the
nighttime landing in Boston was nothing less than spectacular. What was LESS than
spectacular was paying $7 for a snack plate filled with $1.08 worth of cheese and
grapes. Oooh!
Upon my return, I drove home and arrived in my own house at 12:20 Friday morning,
slept until I stopped, and then drove back to Vermont. Since that's where Beff was
still working for VYO, and where the cats were, and all my stuff. That Friday night I
fended for myself for dinner, since Beff went out for dinner with the staff; on Saturday
we had a full meal, using up as much of the fridge food as possible, and on Sunday
morning we embarked Maynardwards again. And I had the cats. That ride was
uneventful, since I beat the vacation traffic by several hours, and reinstalling my
clothes, computer, food, etc., took as long as expected. And then we were resettled.
Beff, however, embarked on Monday for Maine, and I reinstated my regiment of bike
riding, discovering some places I hadn't seen yet, since bits of the Wildlife Preserve
are closed to the public for road construction. Poop. Which is dood spelled upside
down. It always has been. It always will.
So what have I been doing this week? Bike riding. Relaxing. A LOT. And entering the
cello and many strings piece into Finale. And writing an epic blog entry. Actual,
several blog entries, two of them arguably epic. Beff was back Wednesday, which was
our twenty-first wedding anniversary, and we celebrated with a walk to, and dinner
in, The Cast Iron Kitchen. It was lovely. Plus, the picture from our wedding that I
posted on my Facebook wall got like twenty comments.
Yesterday's adventure was to see, IN THE THEATER, Inception. A two-and-a-half hour
thriller about dreams and dreams within dreams that was very entertaining, very
expensive, very much bite-sized, and nearly without humor. Apparently the
entertainment rags are all abuzz with ideas about just what is reality and what is
dream in the movie, and caring about that is not done by me. So the movie was a 25minute drive away, at the Solomon Pond Mall (a very wise and wet place, apparently),
and we went without lunch in order to take in the 12:30 showing. Thus, upon our
return, we went to the Halfway Cafe for dinner, and I got my Buffalo wing fix. Beff got
one of the SEVEN FOR SEVEN meals (seven meals priced at seven bucks) -- swordfish
kebabs -- which was really quite good. And we walked home, until we stopped. After
dinner, I began an epic blog post that I finished at lunch time today, while Beff was
getting a filling done at the dentist. So we had leftovers from our anniversary dinner
for lunch, took a nice bike ride, and here I am. Doing ANOTHER blog post. But this
one is different. For this one has no reflection in a mirror.
Coming up -- eye doctor, checkup, teeth cleaning all lined up this month. But I am at
home, hardly at all mobile, until I go Yaddowards in October. And it's been seven
summers since I indulged myself with some extended relaxing time, and here it is.
Here I am. Relaxer, c'est moi. The only thing keeping me from relaxing on my own
hammock is -- posting this update. Dear reader, you are worth it.
This week's pictures include the pickle et al haul from Vermont, several Utah pictures,
the last sunset from our Vermont time, a lovely cruet I got at Bennington Potters in
Burlington (Jared got a similar one), and the nearby Ben Smith Dam showing
evidence of how dry this summer has been. Bye.

AUGUST 27 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Lean Cuisine
steamed chicken thingie and salad. Lunch was two Trader Joe's salmon burgers.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 50.9 and 90.3. MUSIC GOING
THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Starting Something, or something like that -- a
Motown tune that was playing in Whole Foods. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE
Every time I go to Whole Foods; a year's worth of contact lenses, $160. COMPANIES
THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Ace Hardware, holding on to
the broken lawnmower more than two weeks now, without a peep; and the
supermarkets (Whole Foods, Donelans) who aren't currently stocking anything but
generic large things of ice tea. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY Trader Joes, for all the instant breakfast stuff I could procure. PET PEEVE
Wacky summer New England weather. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In my
senior year of high school, David Smith used to drive us to the two nearby I-89 rest
areas to root through the trash for his beer can collection -- for a minor, he had quite
a sizable collection. Besides the usual Canadian beers (LaBatts, Molson, O'Keefe), we
occasionally scored truly unusual ones, such as Tooth's KB Lager, from Australia.
NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Both cats
napping on the double-wide cat scratchers. I suppose they like the texture. See
Cammypic below. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS
WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: trazzic, the state of being for a blade of grass no longer
using chlorophyll. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST TWOWEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE ear hair -where'd THAT come from? WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Everything except garlic tastes like garlic. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY:
15,232. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.66 in Maynard. WHEN YOU HEAR
"THUD", YOU DON'T THIS IS WHAT MADE IT sticky gold stars, the corner of the
bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Dear reader, the weather is very nice and very dry outside, and the vagaries of New
England weather have been creating all sorts of havoc -- not just the one kind that
you and I are used to. More on that as it becomes available. Wait -- it just did.
It has been a mostly dry (as in, nearly rain-free) summer, and that's meant a few
interesting things now being made manifest. The quince tree, normally producing
four or five fruits per year, is a-bursting with issue, and some of the leaves are
turning. That is, changing color, not changing direction. Plus, there are lots of brown
or bare spots on the lawns, and there hasn't been much need of mowage.
That changed with an old sock-er-oo from a summer Nor'easter (still don't know why
they take the "th" out of there, but you know). Them what make had first predicted a
day of light rain, and then when it was actually upon us, a second day of drizzle as
the storm moved slowly. The final edict was for it to linger three days and dump five
or six inches of rain -- half a summer's worth! -- including about three hours of a
steady downpour on its third day. On the fourth day, it rested. And on that fourth day,
it cleared up spectacularly -- indeed, in a mere three days a lot of us had forgotten
what it was like for it to be sunny (we are so spoiled). And as the air squeezed the
humidity out, two things that affected ME happened, and things that affect ME are all
I care about here.
Yesterday morning -- which was that fourth day -- as I was entering notes into Finale,
the smoke alarm by the front door went berserk. It kinda hurt my ears as I
unmounted it and took out the battery, thinking it might be a battery malfunction. I
put in a fresh one, and the alarm again went berserk. I trolled the house for sources
of smoke, finding none. So I brought the detector into the porch and put the battery
in -- berserk. I took it into the back yard -- berserk. I took it into the garage -- berserk.

So I just put it down. Yesterday evening, I put the battery back in, and it was back to
normal.
Meanwhile, I was unable to start the grill to cook my salmon burgers -- the spark
thing made the noise, but no fire. It smelled icky, so I figured there was gas. So I used
a fireplace fire starter to start the fire, and all was well. Later in the afternoon I tried
again, and it started up just fine. So by using logic, and boringness, I figured the
supreme wetness and the sudden dryness caused those wacky things to happen.
Beff and I took several bike rides in the GOOD weather, and none in the downpours.
Beff was going to and from Maine, anyway, for such lofty things as Chair Retreats and
Open Houses. For such a thing we went in to town on Saturday, I got stuff at the
Farmers Market, and Beff got an eye exam. Because of this Open House thing, slated
to last all day, I suggested Beff get a wide-brimmed hat to shield from the sun. I also
agreed to get a somewhat wide-brimmed hat for myself, for lounging in the back, so
we could be parallel. Beff got a nice sun hat that actually makes her look like she
went up by one or two pay grades. I got a hat that makes me look more like, say, a
fly fisherman, or Stanley and Livingston. But I am worth it. I only wear it inside and in
the back yard, though.
The hat purchase saga was followed by our only meal out in this reporting period:
Buffalo wings, quesadilla, swordfish skewers at the Halfway Cafe.
There were also two very productive creative bursts in this period, during one of
which I read a great deal of Rick Moody's new book The Four Fingers of Death. Great
read, very fast read, and it's a great book. Rick, by the way, had recommended I read
some Richard Brautigan, and I ordered some books from amazon. I have just started
reading some, and enjoy it, in a different way. Apparently my writing style in my blog
reminded Rick of Brautigan. Bring it on, I say. Then, I burp.
Meanwhile, the school year has started, and giving a flying fig about that is not being
done by me. Mindy Wagner, though, will be coming in and probably staying Sunday
nights for the school year, since she teaches at the 'Deis on Mondays. Therein will be
a new pattern. And there promises to be a fair share of giggles.
And I continue to write a hard piece for tanti archi. And taking bike rides.
On the middle of the three days of rain, Beff and I drove to Gloucester for lunch with
Rob Amory, and an almost completely new experience happened. Rob served Duck
Trap smoked trout. I hate trout. It's fishy, and I've never liked it. But I LIKED the Duck
Trap smoked trout, even having some seconds. Woo hoo! So after my cleaning at the
dentist this morning, I stopped at Whole Foods and got some. Plus, it being Whole
Foods, I didn't stop there -- mahi mahi burgers, lowfat chicken sausage, tuna burgers,
pitted olives with hot peppers ... if there's a way to get even one more item into the
freezer, I don't know it.
Coming up -- more of the same. I blog on occasion. I don't blog on occasion. I'm on a
15-bar-a-day regimen, which, given I'm writing fast music, isn't a whole lot in terms of
time. But, I tell you, and I tell you with all meritriciousness -- it's deep. And kind of
tall, too. With a few green flecks that glint in the light. What's up with that? Yearly
checkup on Tuesday. Our birthday dinner for Beff, on the 16th, will be at the Nashoba
Winery, dig that. Other than that, not much. Woo hoo!

This week's pictures: Cammy on the cat scratcher, a burnt out bulbup close, the Ben
Smith dam again with accumulated smelly green stuff, the quince tree, the early fall
colors, and an isolated turning leaf. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 10 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Lean Cuisine
turkey breast entree. Lunch was aTrader Joe's Margherita pizza. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 54.0 and 83.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS
I TYPE THIS Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It). LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE
Whole Foods, $93. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Acton Ace Hardware (again), holding on to the broken lawnmower more than four
weeks now, without a peep. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
The companies that Beff got us new t-shirts from. PET PEEVE Funny industrial smells
emanating from nearby businesses. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Margaret
made me a ruffled shirt and a cummerbund and a bow tie for her prom my senior
year.They were nice (pic below), though alas it meant plunking down plenty of the
parents' money to rent a tux to contextualize them. For my own prom, I wore a
leisure suit. I mean, didn't everybody? NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: When both of them stare outside from the narrow
window where Beff sits at breakfast. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page,
Compositions, Recordings, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: arosco, an
arid section of deep woods. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS
WRITTEN THIS LAST TWOWEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE
ELSE The only fingernails I don't bite are my index fingers. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Words with double e's now have triple e's.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,232. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.59
in Maynard with Shaws five-cent discount. AT THE BIG TOP, THEY NEVER GET
AROUND TO SAYING sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I
forgot about, a head of steam.
As the sabbatical continues on apace, I continue to say "on apace". I'm on apace to
write a whole bunch of music this year. MWA ha ha.
Call me Martler
Work on RIGHT WING ECHO CHAMBER or TALKING POINTS or whatever I'm going
tocall it has gone on, though it's been in a thick and chewy climax for a while now,
and writing it hurts my head, hands, back, mouse hand, body, and brain. So I took a
brief break from it and started kickin' it oldstyle.
Being that I've sworn off etudes, and nocturkas didn't seem all that refreshing a
genre, I migrated right over to a piano prelude, whose aspects governed my idea for
the aspects to be shared by future preludes. And by the way, one down, ninety-nine
to go. We'll see. There must be at least 25, of course, because it would be
appropriate to kick Chopin's butt TWICE in the same lifetime. Uh, because, and, you
see, Chopin wrote twenty-four preludes. Twenty-five preludes would be more. Chopin
also wrote twenty-seven etudes. One hundred would be more.
So the first prelude takes off on the "little" C minor prelude of Bach that I'm sure I
played parts of for all my piano-playing years. There isn't an intermediate-level
"Music of the Masters!" piano book that doesn't have that one in it, after all. The title
is a palindrome (Moody, My Doom), so all the titles of book one (they'll be in BOOKS?)
will also be palindromes. Hot diggity. There is also a palimpsest within that I'm not yet
ready to reveal. But I DO have an annotated PDF of it showing the palimpsest. Of all
the palimpses in the world, it's definitely the palimpsest!
The 'lude took six days, as did Etude #1. Spooooky. But six days is not a limit for

'ludes, and since I crossed out whole measures and revised while writing it, the nonrevision clause of etude-writing has been voided. Now you know.
As to the other big piece, I have been slogging away, and as I type this, Fred and his
cohort in the low string section are getting more and more lyrical, after a section of
outbursts that just get parroted by the other strings. Those other strings, meanwhile,
are in boxes -- as in, improvise rhythmically, col legno battuto, on these two or three
notes. With any luck, it'll sound like a bag of safety pins being emptied onto the floor.
A really big bag. Soon -- soon in the piece, but more like two or three compositional
days away -- there will be a big spacy chord accumulating. Because it's what I do.
Like in the finale of the piano concerto, except without chatter stones. It's a good
thing that eight violins and violas col legno battuto sounds a lot like eleven violins
and violas col legno battuto, since that allows me to build in page turns three players
at a time. Being practical is a heavy burden.
Meanwhile in the outdoors, there has been little need for lawnmowing, but there has
been some, anyway. The quince of unusual quantity are bending the limbs of the
quince bush, and yet another cavalcade of pine cones fell and necessitated twenty
minutes of raking. Bike rides have continued as they do, and we've done the nature
preserve several times, as well as West Acton and the nature viewing area (a
different ride).
I did my doctor's appointment, whose double bar is always the doctor's hand up my
butt (prostate exam, eww), and had an extra blood test. Yes, they took four vials
instead of three because my brother had an ankle operation followed by a blood clot
migrating to his lungs and a six-day stop in IC. What I never knew was that the Type 5
Lutein something or other is genetic on my maternal grandfather's side, and various
family members -- including my sister -- have regularly taken a blood thinning
prescription that also functions as rat poison. I had that test, and don't have the
gene. Meanwhile, as a way of taking up space, I report my other numbers:
Cholesterol 171, HDL 74, LDL 78, Triglycerides 97, Cholest ratio 2.31. All are good.
I meanwhile rescued some stuff from the attic when I wanted a particular old picture
for a blog entry. That included scanning some other old pictures, too, which I have
generously shared below. Hee hee hee.
And school started. Not for me, of course, because I have decided on the life of sloth
and unkemptitude, for now. But a new feature is that Mindy Wagner stays in the
guest room on Sunday nights and goes in early to teach at the 'Deis on Mondays. So
that first time happened, and she arrived while it was still light, we had fun, a bit of
Dubonnet (everything tastes better with Dubonnet on it), and on her first Monday
there was breakfast and getting her to Brandeis as the second vehicle in a 2-vehicle
convoy. I wanted to go in and get some files off my computer anyway, and when I got
there I found out there was a department barbecue later that day. Thus, I returned for
that. Meanwhile, I made some introductions and got out of the way. At the barbecue I
had only tomatoes, cucumbers and green peppers -- my cholesterol test was the next
morning, and look how swimmingly it turned out -- and got to meet some of the new
graduate composers. Who may have seen me for the only time of the whole
semester. Except they may see me Sunday at Jared's piano recital.
Meanwhile, news of various performances that I haven't gotten around to putting in.
And Amy's tango project CD -- recorded in June, 2005 -- finally gets released on
Ravello Records on October 26.
Coming up -- the completion of TALKING POINTS, me hopes. Beff's birthday and a

dinner before that at the Nashoba Winery. Bike rides. Sloth and unkemptitude.
This week's pictures are old. Bye.
SEPTEMBER 29 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Trader Joe's
microwave shephard's pie and a tomato from the farmer's market. Lunch was a pesto
chicken sandwich and fries at the Blue Coyote Grill. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE
LAST UPDATE 39.8 and 87.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Finale
of Stolen Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Toy instruments from
amazon.com, $67; Amtrak tickets $99; chimney cleaning $169; Ricks Picks $47; any
time I do Whole Foods. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Acton Ace Hardware (again again), holding on to the broken lawnmower more than
four weeks, charging 35 bucks for "debris removal" and then presenting it to me with
a layer of sawdust on it. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
amazon.com for the plethora of different stuff I got from them, one-stop. PET PEEVE
Another year of fecundity in the pine cone falling department. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: We got a new gym teacher when the new elementary school opened
up, and we called him Mr. P -- since Pequignot was apparently too hard to say. In my
eighth grade year he started a soccer team, for which I did not try out, but was
guilted into joining. I played left wing, which was a good predicter of my future. I
don't remember who our first game was against -- there were 10 in the season -- but
it was at the newly-defunct Barlow Street School. Our team got the ball to begin with,
the center passed it to someone else, who passed it to me, and as one of their guys
came barreling in at me, I kicked the ball wildly in the direction of the distant goal.
Then I was decked. I got up to see the ball sailing in the goal, over the hands of their
goalie. We won the game 1-0. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: Back to making the circuit of windows to look out. UPDATED ON
THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Performances, Piano Music (new
page). THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: gradintal, a mysterious substance that collects
on insects' legs when they crawl up trees. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL
LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWOWEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ
ANYWHERE ELSE I like spoonerisms and palindromes. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND
WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Everybody thinks "elbow" is a very funny word.
PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,248. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.58
in Maynard. GIFTS YOU DON'T GIVE THE GREAT PUMPKIN sticky gold stars, the corner
of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
I type to you, dear reader, on a warm and sticky summer's day. One that just happens
to lie in the end of September, and what's up with that? Drought-ending rain is on
and off, and it's become tropical here with oppressive dew points. Oppressive enough
that three of the smoke detectors have had the batteries removed because they are
going off. As you know, smoke detectors going off is pretty loud.
Also as I type this, Beff is on her way to Jackson Hole, Wyoming for some sort of
convocation of music administrators: Bangor to New York to Dallas to Jackson Hole. I
hate it when that happens. Because of my impending Yaddodom, the need for the
cats to get to Maine, and Beff's administrator retreat, I will be in charge of boxing
them up (they love that) and taking them to the house in Maine. Then, I must be back
in time for the Dinosaur Annex concert with pieces by Mindy and lots of other people
I know. And then, and then, packing and lawn things -- especially the storing of the
lawn and gazebo furniture, since who else is going to do it? Plus, since there's no
lawn mowing left to do for the season, there's the running of the lawnmowers
(plural!) so that they run out of gas and can be stored.
The last weekend that Beff was here was our annual hostafest -- hostas that frame

the front walk -- in which Beff stabs at them with a rake and I mow them. It's a ritual
not without its benefits, but which is of course hard on the lawnmower. The storing of
the Adirondack chairs and the cushions, etc. still has to take place. Because it is so
juicy this week, I have to wait for the weekend, when it finally dries out.
Much bicycle riding has been done, enough to once again break another rear inner
tube. Sigh, the ritual walking of the bicycle to the bike shop happened, the tires were
mondo-inflated, and the ride through the nature preserve thus got much harder. We
also rediscovered the nearby hiking trails on Summer Hill, and I've taken that
recreational/exercisical walk quite a few times now. We never run into anyone else
there, so it is quite serene. I'll be doing that walk later today, because worth it is what
I am, so there.
"Talking Points" was finally finished, and I spent a day and a half extracting and
producing the parts and mailing them off. Apparently it is unusual for anyone to finish
pieces on time for this group, so they were grateful. It's a hell of a hard piece, which I
would suppose wouldn't have a lot of prospects for a second performance. So this
one better be realllllly good. And I recaptured the ability to make 11x17 bound
scores, which is a pain.
Also, two more preludes were written, both with palindromic titles: Never Odd or
Even, and Too Hot to Hoot. I ordered several palindrome books from amazon, by the
way, and was quite impressed by how much time anyone would ever spend compiling
such very long collections of them. I will still need seven more palindromic titles
eventually, and I guess this is a good place to start.
Ah yes, there were two sojourns into my place of employment: one for a routine
meeting to do with a reappointment, and one to meet Steve Dewhurst and his son
David, who is college shopping, to give them a tour of the place. That part was fun,
and when we started trying to figure out schedules for the whole family to get
together with us for dinner, I realized the next possible time was the Saturday of
Thanksgiving weekend. Amaze. The last time I had seen Steve and his wife Sarah
(both five letters), was when Sarah was pregnant with David, the college-shopper. So
it's been a while. But it's definitely their turn to come and see us.
I also had to meet, for the first time in my life, with a yard care guy. Since we won't
be around to do the leaves this year, we are paying someone $550 to come twice and
suck up all the leaves, of which there are many -- last year, 104 barrels. Plus, it's a
second consecutive fecund year for acorns and pine cones to drop. What's up with
that? Oh yes, and the quince bush, barren last year, is very fecund this year. They are
now yellow and dropping. Nobody knows what to do with quicne except make jelly.
I have continued to write blog entries, which are soon to be few and far between. I
like it when that happens.
I also made an appointment to hear Tony de Mare play my Sondheim arrangement in
Manhattan next month -- I mostly agreed to do it because the view from the Amtrak
train Saratoga to New York is spandalicious. While in Manhattan, I'll make an
afternoon of it with Rick Moody and do an early dinner with Amy and Hazel (average
four letters).
Oh yes, and Beff will come to visit me at Yaddo during Columbus Day weekend -- my
first weekend there. That will mean she'll bring the cats back to Maynard, Mindy will
feed them,and then she'll take them right back to Bangor. Poor kitties.

And Geoffy is here this week for Musica Viva gyrations. It's always good to see Geoffy.
Coming up: stuff.
All of this week's pictures are of nature stuff. Mushrooms from the back yard plus a
day of driving rain makes for fungus plus mold and interesting and weird visuals.
Plus, there's a sneakerprint. Bye.
NOVEMBER 21 MISSING

DECEMBER 4 Breakfast was Trader Joes french toast, orange juice and coffee. Dinner
was teriyaki salmon from Whole Foods, potatoes, salad, and beer. Lunch was basil
tomato soup and a Buffalo chicken wrap at the River Rock restaurant. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.93 and 63.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD
AS I TYPE THIS MIDI of a sax quartet movement. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST
UPDATE Two Zoom H1s with accessory paks, $250. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY the local CVS for not having enough cashiers on
hand. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Museum of Fine Arts
for the stuff in the new wing; Bolton Farms store for having exotic potato chips. PET
PEEVE an unusual proliferation of drivers who tailgate. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC
REMINISCENCE: When the NEC Chorus did their summer 1978 tour of Israel, I was
with them (because, you see, I was in the chorus), and we performed about five
times, I think. We also got a few bus tours, including the Dead Sea and Jericho (where
I had a conversation with a goat), and the Rubin Academy. I didn't get to see the
Rubin Academy, though, because Cheryl Welsh, who had been sitting with me,
fainted, and the PEOPLE IN CHARGE had left the bus already; it didn't seem right to
leave her by herself, even though THE PEOPLE IN CHARGE seemed not to have any
problems with that. She woke up just about as the tour ended and everyone was
getting back on the bus. So I haven't see the Rubin Academy. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I
GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Both cats taking turns sleeping
near my head, between about 4:30 and 6. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This
page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: areelano, a hybrid lettuce of
which only one survived. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 17. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I
haven't worn new winter boots yet that I got last December -- what with the old ones
still hanging on. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: a
whole lot less use of the term "smart phones". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY:
15,457. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.87 in Maynard, twice, with Shaws
5-cent discount. THINGS THAT WOULD MAKE A BETTER CONGRESS THAN THE
CURRENT ONE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I
forgot about, a head of steam.
I am still not at Yaddo. But in a manner of speaking, and speaking timelyly, I am
*almost* at MacDowell. Put that in your pipe and lubricate it. Because, you know,
otherwise who will?
So, and, of, after all that that was accomplished at Yaddo, much less has been
accomplished at not-Yaddo. To be sure, I have begun a piece for instrument,
instrument, instrument, instrument, instrument, and instrument, and it bears a few
unusual things for me -- to wit, a substantial change of tempo, and molto revisions
(that's mixed languages there). Soon I'm going to have to start the Finale input just
so I can see just what it is I hath wrought. What a tangled web we weave when first
we practice to conceive.

Otherwise, stuff happens. Grocery shopping, calling the slate roof specialist about our
roof (a little bit of drippy-stains on the computer room ceiling), saying "tra la la"
hardly at all, more grocery shopping, and settling into the normal routine, if only for
two weeks. Most mundane task: ordering a new ATM card, as the old one was to
expire while I am in France. See? I told you it was mundane.
I did have a few even more mundane score/parts things to accomplish, and such
things always suck souls, and in this case it was mine. Then there was a bit of getting
ready for Thanksgiving, and then ... gasp ... actually doing Thanksgiving, which was
much fun, and moreso than usual.
For you see, Hayes and Susan came for the Thanksgiving thing, arriving in time for a
very informal dinner (jeans allowed) the night before Thanksgiving (and all through
the house). For that dinner, it was mahi mahi burgers, chicken burgers, and chicken
burgers (thin chicken, thick chicken, that is), plus a nearly endless supply of Malbec
(thank you Yaddo fellae). They turned out all to be tasty, and we pronounced it good.
We did not pronounce "it good", except during the Caveman sketch we didn't get
around to presenting.
Thanksgiving itself was as could be expected. I had gotten a fresh, not frozen, turkey,
so there was no defrosting to do, and I had done the Beff's sister Ann thing of having
too much food around. The four of us did a brief walk through the Acton Arboretum,
which is not very scenic when all the leaves are brown and the sky is gray (but they
were missing, and the sky was bright blue). Then we came back. Snacks of cheese
and crackers and celery and olives were prepared the lunch time, then there was the
cooking of the multiple nefarious ingredients -- turkey, stuffing (Beff did that),
squash, mashed potates, cranberry sauce (whole berry, in a can), gravy (Trader Joe's,
in paper soup boxes). And Susan brought an amazing chocolaty goodness pie with
Cool Whip and other nefarious stuff. There was a nearly endless supply of Malbec. We
set up in the dining room (duh) by adding a leaf to the table (not for modesty's sake,
like they did in the Victorian age, but you know), and ate. And drinked.
After the meal there was a Festa fest -- we watched both of the films that Paul Festa,
a multi-hyphenated artist, had given me on DVD: The Glitter Emergency and
Apparition of the Eternal Church. The latter films people listening to a Messiaen organ
piece and gets their reactions -- guess what the organ piece is called. Then there was
various other watching, and for one of the very few times each year, the dishwasher
was put to use. How 'BOUT that!
For the day after Thanksgiving, we set out to Boston and parked near NEC -- one of
the few places I know about in Boston for dependable parking, since it's where I
parked when I taught there -- and walked to the Museum of Fine Arts (four blocks, as
the crow barfs), where for $20 we got the run of the place. Along with thousands of
other people paying $20. The idea was to spend up to 3 hours looking at the new ART
OF THE AMERICAS wing that opened recently, which was on three levels and densely
packed (both with people and with art). An hour and a half was just about enough
time to get through it all and to make all of us seriously pooped. So we found a
barfing crow to get us back to the car, hung out a bit at home (after driving home),
and did dinner at the Cast Iron Kitchen. Where the food exuded its customary
fabulosity. We walked to and from the CIK because, you know.
Hayes and Susan left on Saturday morning, and Beff and I got down to brass tacks.
Then we discovered that we don't have any brass tacks, so we just got down. Some
of which was emanating from a rip in the down duvet we have on the bed. So I
adjusted the duvet so that the down wouldn't go up, and then started to wonder

about what the point of this paragraph is. Self-awareness, probably, or selfreferentiality.
Also during this period, I went into Brandeis no fewer than TWO times -- the Tuesday
before Thanksgiving and the Monday after it -- to sit in on PhD orals. Since
composition is shorthanded this year, both Yu-Hui and I -- on leave essentially without
pay -- are pitching in. At least I got to learn a new weird Schubert piece this time. And
for the first time in many weeks I got to see Mindy Wagner, who stays here on
Sunday nights after driving from New Jersey, in order to teach at Brandeis on
Mondays. As expected, we stayed up giggling until midnight. And went into Brandeis
at the same time.
Mundane things include the Tire Pressure light coming on on my car on the way into
Brandeis, prompting me to take the car to the dealer on Tuesday morning. They
couldn't find anything wrong, really, and there was no charge. Good thing: free
breakfast when you take you car in in the morning. So I kinda made out. Otherwise -just a cleaning appointment at the dentist on Thursday, and a bit of old, old filling
broken off that has to be fixed next month before I go Franceward. So ist die welt.
And there were two days of work on this instrument, instrument, instrument,
instrument, instrument and instrument piece, which with the original tempo came out
to 45 seconds of music, and 35 seconds with the revised tempo, though the
obsessive revisions brought it back up to 45 seconds -- I'm on a "make my music
breathe more" kick -- and I'll come back to it when I'm set up at MacDowell, with my
own fireplace and 31 new names to learn. Actually, they are old names, just new to
me.
Other than that. Beff is back for her customary weekend stay, and we take our walks.
We even capped yesterday's walk by treating ourselves to a lunch at the River Rock
Grill. The Rapscallion Honey beer I had was closer to Budweiser than I would have
liked. My wrap was big enough to wrap and have for lunch again today (Davy, that's
the least clear writing ever and I know you don't care). Shortly, after this report is
filed, Beff will update her own page, and we will do our customary Saturday walk
(because, hee hee, it's Saturday). This morning, after breakfast, by the way, we took
a scenic drive, thus explaining the scenic pictures below, and stopped at Bolton
Orchards for some macoun apples, bread for garlic bread for tonight's pasta, and
decidedly unexotic Christmas gifts.
So MacDowell here I come. I will immediately seek out the softest plaster in whatever
studio I have for head banging as I work on this silly instrument, instrument,
instrument, instrument, instrument and instrument piece. And take long walks in the
cold and snow, and learn 31 or more locally new names. And then, and then ... well,
Christmas is coming, and the caboose is getting fat. I just made that joke up. Please
pay me ten dollars or more.
Pictures include a lake view from Yaddo, our Thanksgiving setup, a great blue heron
encountered at the arboretum, our house photographed at night, and two views from
this morning's drive with me pointing to one of them. Bye.

2011
JANUARY 12 2011 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was Trader Joes
chicken patty sandwiches and salad. Lunch was a Trader Joes flatbread pizza.
TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 7.9 and 59.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH
MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS MIDI of a sax quartet movement. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE

LAST UPDATE Purchase of Euros, $687. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED
THEMSELVES IN GLORY none. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN
GLORY Acton Toyota for the quick service and free breakfast. PET PEEVE large
snowstorms. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Our eighth grade basketball
team's #1 nemesis was Milton, 'cause like they had a Tall Guy. I always had to guard
tall guy, and vice versa; it was the same tall guy I had to guard when we played them
in soccer, it turns out. In a Christmas tournament, I recall being behind Milton 20 to
18, and I had two free throws. The gym was stone silent as I made them both, and we
won the game eventually. It was probably the only time all year the cheerleaders
knew my name. Wait -- we had cheerleaders? NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST
WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now it's Sunny who sleeps by my elbow.
UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, List of Compositions.
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tulanosis, a rare condition suffered by left-handed
bass trombonists. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS
LAST SEVERAL WEEKS: 22. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I
routinely crack my fingers, big toes, and elbows. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD
BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: complete lollipop makeovers. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO
LIBRARY: 15,561. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.95 in Maynard, $3.04 in
Maynard, $3.05 in Maynard. THE LIST THAT NEVER CHANGES sticky gold stars, the
corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Dear reader, as I type this, the second snowstorm of unusual size of the season
occurs, and right outside my window! And the other windows, too! And earlier this
morning there was lightning and thunder to go along with it. Whoo doggies! Climate
change? Yes, climate change from your climate dollar! I don't know where to go with
this joke.
I have been to the MacDowell Colony and back. And there, and back. And there, and
back. And there, and back. Repeat to taste. For you see, my first two weeks there
coincided with Beff's end of classes and exams and all, and I had to come back just
'bout every second or third day to feed the cats. Luckily, weather cooperated, and it's
a short drive anyway. At around the three week mark, I did a three day vacanza in
casa (that's Italian) for Christmas, and of course there was plenty of beezy house
type work to get done, except when there wasn't. Then Beff came up for New Years
Day, which we spent near Merrimack, New Hampshire -- home of the Thousand Island
mayonnaisy dip for crackers, apparently. And we ate well. And finally, I had to take a
two-day leave from the colony so that Beff and I could tabulate all the receipts for
taxes. Is the extra two or three thousand bucks refund worth it? Yep.
The MacDowell part of the colony hop was more conventional than the Yaddo part -as I had gotten to Yaddo after it was closed down for the month of September, and it
had a smaller group, and it stayed constant for some time. At MacDowell, there were
almost twice as many residents, and constant comings and goings and overlaps. I did
finally get to know most of the names, and there was at least one composer I already
knew anyway --- Alvin Singleton, and it was great to overlap with him by a week.
There were also brief overlaps with younger composers, and a week overlap with
Rufus Reid, a very well known jazz bassist who was there to write for orchestra. And
Alexandra Grimal, a very accomplished jazz saxophonist was there when I arrived and
is still there. She did a couple of really fine solo improvisations. For about three
weeks, Alexandra and I were the only composers there -- and at a colony named after
a composer!
As is usual, there were plenty of presentations, and mercifully not overlong. And as is
customary, every one of them kicked major butt. I didn't want to give such a
presentation, but Marilee, an actress/theater/multimedia type from the Bay area,

talked me into doubling up with her one night. We got $114 worth of ingestments and
imbibements, and she fell ill. So it was just me. I killed.
I had the Monday Music studio, which is one I had the first time (I've also had
MacDowell, Watson, Kirby, New Jersey, and Omicron). It's a live-in studio of unusual
teeniness, but it was mine. I brought firelogs for my fireplace and only had two fires
the whole time -- I left the unused firelogs for my successor in that studio, whoever
that may be. Lunches were always more than I could eat, but were very tasty, and
dinners were customarily fine. One night the cook Scott roped me into doing pizza,
which I did with aplomb. And as to making portions for various people who eat vegan,
or are non-dairy, or have food allergies -- I insert the strange metaphor "piece of
cake". Before the big snows came, I took plenty of walks along the trails in the woods,
and that was about all the exercise that was available to me.
I was there to work on a piece for Cygnus, which I had been putting off for some time.
It was going to be a Yaddo project, and I'd watched my Flip movies of Bill Anderson
with his mandolin, guitar, banjo, and theorbo and listened to Harold's piece Brion and
other stuff Cygnus had recorded. And at Yaddo, I punted. I wrote a saxophone quartet
instead. Which, by the way, rocks. So finally at MacDowell, I could postpone no more,
and I just let the place's magic kick in. I started with some tongue rams on the flute,
and other goofy percussion sounds, and sooner than I could shake a stick, there was
some actual music in the piece.
And on the last day of 2010, I finished the piece. The closest pun on the name
"Cygnus" I could get for a title that hadn't already been taken was ZYG ZAG. So that
is the name of my piece. Buy a vowel! Yes, I had a guitar with me to try stuff out, and
I wrote down some licks and a chord progression for a projected duo with the
mandolin -- and when I got to that point in the piece I realized I didn't have anywhere
near enough musical materials. So I improvised. Meanwhile, I lent the guitar to
Alexandra for a while anyway, since she too was writing for guitar. Now it's back,
back, back! In Bangor! Because it's Beff's, and what use do I have for a guitar
anyway?
Christmas here included the testosterone crew of Beff's siblings -- no sister on
Christmas day, who had to run an event at her hotel in Albany. I had to make
something for a Christmas dinner, so Beff and I went to Whole Foods and gathered a
bunch of nice seasonal things to cook. Whole Foods did NOT have the steak tips I
planned on making, so I was strangely able to get them at Shaw's instead. So on the
day in question, arrived the siblage, presents were made and opened (I now have two
American Express gift cards to use in France -- I hope--), and Matt and Beff and I went
to the Wildlife Preserve to do a little walking around. The Visitors Center there is
apparently finally open, and it looks like they plan on extending the road all the way
to the street on the other side about two miles distant ... as if you cared, dear reader.
Beff and I had already exchanged gifts -- she got me red luggage and I got her a
Zoom H1 dontcha know -- and we did not get a full size tree this year. Instead, we got
a much smaller one for more money. Which, unlike the tree we usually get, can be
put into the car. With other things, too! The cute thing about that tree was getting an
atomizer at CVS to "water" it. Because, well, and you know.
And Beff's sister arrived the day after Christmas, with son, thus beating the Blizzard
of Oh Ten by just a little bit. Moi, I was already back at the Colony.
I have done scores and parts and have sent them out, and am now just counting up
the time until I go to France -- which is on MLK Day. Things to accomplish have also
included Toyota 20,000 mile service, the procurement of Euros, dentist and doctor's

appointments, and pleading for extra pills for my prescriptions. The dentist
appointment had been scheduled for today, but nobody -- nobody! -- is driving today.
So it was rescheduled for tomorrow. 1:40. Be there or be square.
And my project in France will be a piano concerto. I am just now bouncing those ideas
around. I return in mid-April, and then another piece, newly put onto the plate, will be
written, me hopes. Then I would really like to spend every waking moment ironically
on the hammock.
Since this is the oh so belated year end posting, here's the usual lists I put up, and of
course they are about ME.
TRIPS
February to Chicago. Hyperblue, Super Bowl at Gusty's. Colloquium at Nawwestern.
April to Salt Lake City. Maurice Abravenel Lecturer, lessons, talk, concert.
April to Rochester. Eastman, talk, dinner, licky-faced dog named Mocha.
May to DC. Marine Chamber Orchestra.
May to Hudson, New York with Beff. Hymn project.
June to Vermont.
July to Vermont.
August to Salt Lake City. Barlow Foundation meetings.
Oct-Nov to Saratoga Springs -- Yaddo.
(from Yaddo) Oct to New York City -- Tony de Mare.
(from Yaddo) Nov to east of Cleveland -- I-Chen and Davytudes.
Dec to Peterborough, New Hampshire (MacDowell Colony).
NEWLY COMPOSED
Last half of Current Conditions, orchestra. 2-1/2 min.
Etudes #94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100a, 100b, 100. 25 min.
Talking Points (Right Wing Echo Chamber) cello and 16 strings 12 min.
Preludes #1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. 32 min.
Compass, saxophone quartet. 19 min.
Zyg Zag, mixed sextet. 17 min.
Today's photos are the 2010 monthly summary! So, in month order, we have ... JAN
Sunny enjoying a gift box FEB me looking strangely red and Amy and Kate at Gusty's
house for the Super Bowl party MAR Cammy coming in for treats APR a Grand Slam
breakfast I cooked for Beff, and later, for me MAY cats protecting their territory in the
back yard JUN a bridge over the Hudson as viewed from Frederick Church's house JUL
one of many gorgeous Lake Champlain sunsets AUG a view towards the valley from
Snowbird Lodge in Utah SEP Cammy discovers the scratching post for naps OCT the
dining room at Yaddo NOV one of the ponds at Yaddo DEC Monday Music studio early
in the morning as it snows. Bye.

APRIL 17 Breakfast was raspberries, blackberries, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner
last night was Trader Joes dumplings. Lunch was a turkey burger, raw materials
procured at Whole Foods. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE -4.4 and
75.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "The Long and Winding
Road", uglyass Phil Spector version. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Limo to
Logan $120; taxi to Cassis $163; taxi to Cassis (Beff edition) $167; taxi to airport
$138; Best Western Marseille (Beff edition) $138; Best Western Marseille $158; limo
from Logan $120; gas $31; gas $31; gas $31; accountant $950. COMPANIES THAT
HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Orbitz -- hey, thanks for the five hour
layover in Frankfurt Airport, doodyheads; Lufthansa for not putting any monitors with

flight info in the Flights to America airport module; L.L Bean, who made the new
suitcase Beff got me for Christmas that is already falling apart. COMPANIES THAT
HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Lufthansa, trouble-free flying and nearlyedible plane food; Best Western Marseille for unusually good dinner. PET PEEVE
people who say, "Okay, here we go!" and then just stand there. POINTLESS
NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I was on the JV basketball team my sophomore year in
high school, which means we played a meaningless game just before the varsity
team played. Thus in the local papers, the last sentence of the sports report on the
game was "and in the JV game, Dave Rakowski led with 8 points." Assuming I had 8
points and everyone else had fewer. My last serious asthma thing happened during
January of that year, thus taking me out of school for two and a half weeks, and when
I got back I quit the team and started to pursue drama instead. My JV colleagues
were nice enough to steal my expensive specially purchased green basketball
sneakers in my absence. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT
THINGS TO REPORT: They are back in Maynard, and very needy. Especially at night,
as they try to box me in on the south side and then try to be cute by purring loudly.
NEW ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, List of Compositions,
Reviews 5. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: driantophobia, a fear of things that begin
with vowels. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST
THREE MONTHS: 14. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE When
residencies begin, I am not slow/It's hip hip hip and away I go. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: nobody knows the word "Velveeta". PHOTOS
IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,561 (Cassis photos not yet installed). WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.69 in Maynard, $3.79 in Bangor, $3.75 in Maynard. THERE'S
GOLD IN THESE HERE HILLS sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some
wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Hop stop.
The epic colony hop of '10-'11 is over, and I am back into my routine, in a manner of
speaking. In a speaking of manners. Well, there you go again. I was in the south of
France for an epically long time, and good thing I had an epic piece to write -- as it
took an epically long time to write, too. But lemme splain.
Somewhere between this winter's second Storm of the Century and its third Storm of
the Century (centuries just got a lot shorter, didn't they?) I managed my escape into
Le Pays de Bonne Fromage by using the usual modes of transportation. AAA Limo
took me to the airport for about three-fourths the cost of a taxi (so there,
smartypants), I waited around until I stopped, I took a plane to Frankfurt and then
another one to Marseille. Fair enough. And I apparently saw the Alps on the way, not
knowing that's what they were -- hey, snow-capped mountains in January aren't that
uncommon, right?
In the meantime, I had done various readthroughs of chapters in my French For
Travellers book, and while I didn't dwell on whether there should be a double "l" in
"travellers", it was mostly a melange of words that made it back into my brain and
seeped directly out my ears therein. Or thereout. I had been practicing, apparently
for days, what to say to the cab driver in Marseille who was going to get $163.20 of
my hard-won dollars (in their pitiful Euro manifestations) -- Je voudrais aller au Cassis,
le Fondation Camargo, pres de la mer. By the time I got my luggage (it was, and still
is, red), located the taxi stand, and remembered what country I was in, I punted. "Je
vais a Cassis". I had been told by people, some of them actually French, that the
terminal "s" in Cassis is pronounced, and yes, the cab driver spouted the word back
at me with the final "s" pronounced. He also spouted a bunch of other words that
were melange soup at the time. Funny how when cab drivers sense a really big fare

(Cassis is 50 km from the airport), their eyes literally light up with dollar signs. Here
in France, his eyes lit up with Euro signs, and they seemed to be in a variant of
Caslon. The image didn't linger long enough for me to inspect the serifs and
determine the actual font. Now I had seen the French for "address" given as "addres"
in one book, or so I thought, so I mispronounced it when I said "L'addres est avenue
jermini un". The Euros in the driver's eyes disappeared, and the eyes obtained a
glazed look. (the actual word is "addresse") He uttered, "Cassis. GPS." and off we
went.
35 minutes later, I was at the doorstep of the Camargo Foundation, having sat
through an utterly gorgeous view on my way in -- down, down, down, down and wow!
I said "tres jolie!", and the cab driver agreed. "Oui! Jolie!" And then finally, on being
let off, I uttered my first complete French sentence in France. "Pouvez-vous faire un
recette pour cent vingt Euro?" And the Euro signs appeared in his eyes again, this
time in a Bodoni-flavored font. "Recette" apparently means both receipt and recipe.
I'm sure that in context he knew I wasn't asking how to cook 120 Euros. I rang the
"office" bell, heard "Oui?", and uttered my second complete French sentence, putting
myself in third person: "David Rakowski est arrive" (sorry, don't know how to get the
accent aigu on this Windows computer) Soon, Christian, who works in the office, let
me in, and Connie Higginson, the Foundation's co-director with her husband Leon,
gave me the tour and the skinny. I was installed in a gorgeous little house with a
living room, kitchen, bedroom, and above all that, a very big studio with a piano and
a large computer monitor. I witnessed a pale imitation of the gorgeous Mediterranean
view and the town and the huge rock they call the Cape Canaille -- for it was a bit
foggy and cloudy -- and I talked a bit with Connie. Who pronounced "Cassis" with no
terminal "s". Then collapsed I in a stupor of jet lag.
That same night, though, Connie and Leon invited all the Fellows that had arrived
that day -- 11 of the cohort of 12 plus spice (plural of spouse) -- to their place (50 feet
from my studio) for a gathering and hand-delivered pizza. And plenty of boxed wine
(the boxed wine was to become a fixture, and there were always three of them,
representing, according to Leon, the French flag: red, white, and rose (row-zay).
Casssis, and Provence, is especially a Rose region). After we all briefly introduced
ourselves, described our projects, and milled about a bit, the pizza was served, little
French table were set out, and I sat with Connie and Michele. More on all them
Fellows later.
Or perhaps now. The mathematical formula for the cohort of 12 was 6 scholars (Doug
-- annotated translation of a 17thC French text; Sandra -- book about food; Michele -book about 18thC French travel writing; Min -- 19thC mapping and planning of Paris;
Jim -- masks in 19th and 20thC Paris; Wendy -- European road movies), 2 writers
(Natalie -- novel, Greek and France; Stephanie -- novel, New Orleans and environs), 2
visual artists (Barbara -- wall collages; Natalia -- video about the Three Maries), and 2
composers (Eric Moe and me). I had met Eric several times before Camargo, but
didn't know him well. Though I liked the music of his I heard. Now I REALLY like it, and
I got to know him pretty well. And Barbara of that list is his wife. The three of us did
several restaurant runs during our time, especially to what we called "Disco Pizza" -which had, for no apparent reason, a disco ball above the bar. And easily the best
restaurant food in Cassis that I had.
All the Fellows were required to give presentations on their proejcts, and I went first,
on Feb. 1, in my studio. Each presentation also included a reception that included
snacks and the three boxed wines, so we lingered quite a bit. My project was a 40minute piano concerto (my first concerto with a number! No. 2!) for Amy Briggs, and
by the time I presented, I had 3 minutes of it that came out pretty much like I

imagine gallstones being passed. After 3 days of work on it, I fired up Finale 2011,
spent half a day entering the notes, and then optimized systems to taste, and ... one
of the optimized systems had a stopped horn note on it, and the indication "Hn. 1" in
really, really, really big type. I e-mailed Finale about it, they had a really complicated
kludge for it, and I e-mailed them back: "That's your actual answer?" Thus did I take
out the Finale 2006 file of Piano Concerto (it doesn't have a number), which has the
same orchestra as No. 2 (it has a number), opened in in Finale 2010, deleted the
music, and started again. Grr, I would have thought, if I had thoughts in
onomatopoeia.
Rewinding a bit, I had had a long conversation with Amy (using the telephone) about
what kind of stuff she'd like to have in a concerto. We settled on using the texture of
Martler to start, in medias res, with references to that texture throughout the piece;
Bach-like textures, sometimes, like the Bach keyboard concertos; jazz of various
stripes; and orchestra sounds coming out of piano licks like in Points on a Curve to
Find. Also, alas, I had a dream the day before I left with highly chromatic Gurreliedertype harmony with orchestra and chorus, and particularly remember a slow
chromatic turn figure, harmonized with half-diminished sevenths and all, with the
chorus singing the words "The Postcards are traveling home". And I have a rule about
using dreamed music, and chromatic turns are thus all over the concerto. Given that,
I hit the ground running -- sometimes as if in quicksand -- in Cassis. The opening part
was so hard to write I thought I'd never get the whole piece done in three months,
and if I didn't have my 15 bar a day rule, I wouldn't have gotten through it. I would
have spent my time, instead, pounding my head against the very beautiful velvetcovered walls in my studio.
Incredibly enough, I finished the first movement in about a month, and got to know
the -- rather amazing -- work of the other Fellows, little by little, as we had two
presentations per week. This pleased me, since I get energy from learning of the
work of the others, and it greases my gears. That's a metaphor.
Being as Camargo gives you a kitchen and doesn't cook for you -- much -- there were
the mundanities of finding the best supermarket (Eric and Barbara already had done
that, and told me where to go -- Marche U, with an aigu on the e), doing the
Wednesday and Friday morning open air markets, where I bought courgettes and
fruits for my own nefarious purposes, and doing the actual cooking. Our living spaces
were cleaned every other week, during which time we had to scram, and once a
week Christiam drove us into Ciotat to Carrefour, a gigantic Wal-Mart type place
that's a department store and grocery rolled into one. On my first such trip, I also had
to get ink cartridges for Barbara, and luckily they had them, and she paid me for
them. I also discovered what I always miss most in Europe -- good dill pickles! Made
by a Polish company, and relabeled for the locals as cornichons au sel. So I was not at
want of pickles. Of course we had to bring our own shopping bags, and since the trip
was so infrequent, we shopped heavily. Luckily, my cleaning time coincided with the
shopping time, so that's how I could scram. So there.
A few weeks into the fellowship period, there was a group expedition to see cool stuff
in Marseille, and that's when I learned of the bus from Cassis to Marseille, and back,
several times a day. Wow! And we saw a Courbusier apartment house (known to the
locals as "the Courbusier"), had a nice meal near where the canals used to be, saw
ancient layers under the Abbaye St. Victor, and walked to an old beautiful structure
that fell into disrepair and was renovated. And saw, of all things, ancient Egyptian art
there. Who knew?
Meanwhile, Milton Babbitt died, I got very sad, I wrote a remembrance for New Music

Box, and retroactively made the piano concerto dedicated in his memory. The second
movement is an elegy that gets faster through successive metric modulations until it
gets to Amy's much-coveted fast Bach -- which, being a Davy piece, finishes by
making the bass into a wild-eyed boogie woogie. Followed by a slow fugue on that
chromatic turn, using some texture gimmicks stolen from Gusty Thomas's Jubilee.
I was halfway through the slow movement when Beff arrived. I used my new Cassis
bus-taking chops, acquired Marseille subway chops and navette-to-the-airport chops
to pick her up at the airport, and back to Cassis we went, by cab. This time I knew
how to describe where to go (suivre les indications pour les Calanques), and there we
were. While Beff was sleeping off the jet lag, I rambunctiously fell on my own stairs in
the studio, which limited my mobility for the next week. But that night we went with a
group to Disco Pizza, and it was good, brother.
Beff was there about 12 days, and we did work during the day, and, while I was
recovering, Beff took some walks to the Calanques (steep narrow rocky inlets nearby)
and did some food shopping. Both of us wrote not a small amount of music, and Beff
did so downstairs with a gorgeous view and the door open. Did I mention the
gorgeous weather? January to April was like spring turning into summer -- pretty
much Stanford weather -- and coming back to Maynard means I'm getting to witness
TWO springs this year. And what did I miss? The worst winter since 1996 -- which I
also missed because I was in Rome. MWA ha ha.
Beatrice from the office lent me some crutches so Beff and I could do a tourlet of
Marseille -- the word for crutches being bequilles, with an aigu accent on the first e.
Unrelatedly, the Italian word is grucce. After that day, I got better and better, and we
did some longer walks around Cassis, and a day trip to Aix -- the Monet town. There
we ate well, did a nice museum, and walked a whole lot (I seriously wanted to find a
pet store just to say "This is an Aix parrot!"). And then on Beff's exit day, I misread
the bus schedule, and we fell right into a 5-hour gap in the schedule. Thus did we
attack the Cassis cab stand, ask for a ride to the airport, which the drivers present
didn't do. They did, however, procure Bruno for us, who happily took us there and
spoke English to us. Guess what? Bruno thinks France is a little bit screwed up. We
did the Best Western, had a really great dinner there, and got Beff to her flight on
time. I navigated back, and worked very, very intensely for two days to finish my
second movement. Exhausted that night, I went to bed late only to be awakened by
my Camargo-owned cell phone. Beff, just returned to Maynard, asking to Skype. I
must have looked 80 years old on Skype that night.....
More revelry of all kinds happened -- pot lucks, impromptu gatherings. And I started
taking longer and longer hikes, eventually making it to the lip of the third Calanque
(of eight), and to the top of the Cape Canaille. There are no fences to keep you from
jumping off, or being blown off, the edge of the Cape Canaille, so it was a bit ...scary.
But way fun. Meanwhile, the third movement of my piece is the jazz movement, so to
speak, and with five very intense days of work (more than 15 bars a day), I finished
the concerto on my penultimate Sunday in France. Statistics -- it's 42 minutes, and
each movement, when finished, was the longest movement I'd ever written. Thus is I.
13 minutes, II. is 13-1/2 minutes, and III. is over 14 minutes. And there's a cadenza
with stride piano in it, briefly. For you see, it was written for Amy, the QUEEN of
stride. Or if she isn't she'll be so soon (I rigged the election). And with a week left, I
finally felt loose and accomplished enough to do more recreational walking. And, on
the recommendation of Eric and Barbara, I did the boat tour of the Calanques -- eight
of them, stunningly gorgeous, going north up the coast as far as Marseille. And, of
course, coming back.

On the LAST Sundy of our Cassis stay, the Fellows were responsible for a "cabaret"
for the benefit of local Cassideans, and we did not disappouint. The scholars gave
brief summations of their work, Natalia played bits of her film, Natalie read a bit of
her novel that takes place in Cassis, Eric Moe played 2 of my preludes and his own
piece "The Legend of the Sad Triad", and Barbara showed her wall collages in her
studio to anyone that wanted. And my function? I played cocktail piano as the guests
arrived, for 37 minutes. I know so few cocktail tunes that I also played Brahms, Ravel
and Mahler (!), and I even figured out the bridge to "Saving All My Love For You" to
have another available tune. The room got kinda loud as I played, so I had no fear of
hitting wrong notes. Surprisingly, my colleagues listened, though, and thanked me for
Girl from Ipanema and Whitney Houston. And after the cabaret, it was off to Fringale,
a pizza place run by a cool Tunisian guy. And we saw that it was good.
While I was in Cassis, Ash Wednesday occured. Thus did Lent begin, and I withdrew
from Facebook. As I always (well, twice now) do for Lent. Today, on the other hand is
Palm Sunday, which has a double meaning for basketball players.
On my last day, I brought my sheets and towels, etc. back to the source, cleaned,
packed, and got a ride to the Cassis train station, which I was seeing for the first time
-- it's 4 kilometers from Cassis! I got a ticket to Marseille for 5.40 Euro, made sure to
"composter" the ticket (validate it with a stamping machine), rode the train and no
seats were available, took the bus to the airport and the courtesy shuttle to Best
Western, and chilled. My flight was at 6:10 am (what idiot made these reservations?
Oh yes, moi) and the first courtesy shuttle was 5 am, which I thought may not be
early enough. Oh me of little faith: the shuttle got me (and two other Americans) to
the airport at exactly 5 am. I checked my suitcase, went through security, and was at
the gate at 5:09 am. The flight to Frankfurt had a pretty sunrise to see, and then
there were those Alps, and then there were the five hours in Frankfurt. At least,
amazingly, I did not have to go through security a second time. I went to duty free,
and it was all crap, so I purchased nothing. The flight to Boston was uneventful, save
one of the pieces of my suitcase that lets you stand it up sideways having broken off
(Lufthansa's fault? LL Bean's fault?) AAA Limo took me back, and I immediately -immediately! -- embarked for Halfway Cafe, and Buffalo wings for the first time in
three months. I was as sated as it gets. Then I got food staples at Shaws, unpacked,
and got ready to drive to Maine the next morning.
Which I did. Played with cats. Lunch with Beff at work. Nap. Played with cats. Dinner
with Beff and Sea Dog (teri tuna sandwich). Then breakfast next morning, and
bringing the cats back to Maynard, in boxes. Immediately they wanted out of doors
(first time in three months), and off I went to Whole Foods for food staples. Oh yes,
and to the post office to mail our tax voucher for the state of Maine, since we owed a
little bit, and it was tax day ... Yesterday was Trader Joes, Staples, Donelans for more
stuff, as well as yard work (pick up a huge limb that broke off a pine tree, for starters)
and bringing out the lawn and gazebo furniture. And since I still have that arise early
jet lag, I got up at 5 this morning (the cats had a lot to do with that), and here, dear
reader, is where I started to type. Boing!
Upcoming, dentist for teeth cleaning. They had told me that a toothpaste called
"Elgydium" was available in France, and it contains Chlorhexadine -- which is
available in the US only by prescription (I get it because I have to proxa-brush one of
the little caves in my teeth where a wisdom tooth was taken out). I didn't discover
that toothpaste anywhere until after I left Beff off at the airport. So I'm bringing some
as a gift to them. And then, and then ... well, try to start writing a quartet for clarinet
and piano trio, at the end of which it is hammock time until Brandeis upstarts again. I
am in DC from April 27 to May 2 for the Marine Chamber Orchestra's performance of

the chamber orchestra version of Stolen Moments. The nice part about this is, unlike
for the children's concert last year, the Marines are paying for gas, tolls, mileage,
hotel, and a per diem for meals. Woo hoo! I will drive there, and then, in a startling
reversal, will drive back after it happens. Beff, meanwhile, has a very complex
schedule. I think we spend a few hours together on Easter. Then, who knows?
And hey. I created a Twitter account.
Beff seems to think we have decided our days to be in Vermont this summer, but I
didn't get the memo. I thought we had an outline, not a plan. Soon, though, Beff will
read this and tell me specifically. And, New Music on the Point. And sax quartet in
New York and Philly. And, and, and ....
Pictures! The assembled gang (Fellows, staff, French consulate guy) dressed up for an
early meet-and-greet; my studio; Cape Canaille and lighthouse viewed from my
studio; Cassis at night; unenclosed trumpets in the organ at the Marseille Abbaye St.
Victor; Beff at work; town of Cassis and some kind of kid's parade; limestone bluffs on
the Calanques boat ride; Pizza Pengui on Valentine's Day at Disco Pizza; and the town
of Cassis in January. Bye.

MAY 6 Lunch was hot dogs and a plate of tomatoes with dressing. Breakfast was a
plum, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was blackened swordfish and half a
scallop cake. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.4 and 79.5. MUSIC
GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS first movement of "Stolen Moments".
LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Roof work $1190, new printer and briefcase
$154, iPad and iPhone with cases about $1100 collectively. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY CVS and Walgreens for having two of the three
possible Proxabrush sizes in stock, but not the size I needed. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Trader Joes, for the big and inexpensive thing of
blackberries and 29-cent limes, Apple Store in the Natick Collection for procuring me
an iPad from a secret location in back, Twelfth Century Slate Roofing for the quick
service. PET PEEVE big branches that fall off of trees into my yard and driveway.
POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was upgrowing, the family owned a
small portable reel-to-reel tape recorder, which Jim Hoy and I used to use to record
our jam sessions -- me on a toy guitar strumming one chord, and Jim on a toy drum
kit. Jim did all the singing, except we had one standard in which I would occasionally
intone, backup, "End of the world, end of the world, end of the world, ..." My sister
probably has all those tapes in a box somewhere, which someone one day could be
used for serious blackmail purposes. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1.
CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Loud purring, taking turns right under my armpit at
night. NEW ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Lexicon. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP
WORD: boriofa, a rare truffle found only where the sun don't shine.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have no tattoos. WHAT THE
NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Zero-one-five means "pretty
chord" to composers. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 16,741. WHAT I PAID FOR
GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.72 in Maynard, $3.79 on the NJ Turnpike, $3.79 on the NJ
Turnpike, $3.95 in Maynard. IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO'S GROWN UP RIGHT sticky gold
stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Dear reader, so little and so much has happened that I'm going to have to step on
the brake and floor it a lot in this update. It's okay, you can get used to it. I think.
First, there was the summerification of the back yard. That involved bringing the

Adirondack chairs out of the shed into the yard, bringing the gazebo furniture from
the porch to the gazebo, bringing the picnic table stuff from the basement to the
yard,and of course, reassembling the hammock. And using it. For I am Hammock Guy.
Hear me snore.
My easing back into the American-life-that-is-not-the-south-of-France was assisted by
some pretty serious Apple technology. I am and have been immersing myself in the
oh so coolness that is the iPad 2 and iPhone. I had chosen a day to drive to the Natick
Collection (formerly the Natick Mall) to procure said Apple products, and online it was
reported that the Apple Store there opened at 10, but at 9 to sell iPads only. Hmm,
iPads are popular. They get their own opening time. So the Collection is no longer
exactly the same as the mall, and I took a turn too soon and got completely lost -this during the Boston Marathon, and one route had been closed off to me because of
it -- but eventually I made it to familiar territory, parked, entered through JC Penney,
and followed the mall map to the Apple Store. Nothing in the mall, or Collection,
seemed familiar. And I made it to the entry of the Apple Store at 10:01, with the buzzbuzz-buzz of people with pursuits at least as nerdly as mine already evident. I
approached the back of the store just as the sales associates seemed to emerge from
their meeting, and I buttonholed one. "I'm here for a 32gig iPhone, Verizon, and 32gig
wifi black iPad 2." I did not have to translate it into French, but I could have. I would
have said largely all the same stuff, with an accent, and then, as if I were in France,
sneering.
Sales associate guy was great. He said iPads were so popular that nobody ever got
one after 10 am and they were out of them, and some might be delivered around
noon, but ... he saw a suspicious box in the back that may actually have iPads in it.
Back in he went, and emerged and said "even the manager doesn't know about it,
but it's iPads, all right. Let's deal with the iPhone, and then I'll snag an iPad for you."
It played out as advertised, and at the end of the transactions, I was informed that I
was the first customer since March 11 to get to the store after it opened and emerge
with an iPad. Now there's a distinction not destined for my resume. Or is it? I had
entered the store with my VG Smartphone, which seemed so pathetic and creaky at
this point, but it was put into service: to transfer my Verizon wireless account to an
iPhone, I had to call Verizon and set up a different rate plan. So I did, from inside the
store. And then everything else went swimmingly. 'ceptin' I think I made a bad choice
for an iPhone case. I intend to buy a different one shortly.
And then I was all giddy, and stuff, for a while while playing with the iPhone and the
iPad and downloading free and cheap applications, and playing with them, and,
and, .... and then there was a dissertation defense to attend -- Jeremy Spindler's. The
external reader was Martin Bresnick -- because the paper topic was Ligeti -- and a
great time was had by all. There was Thai lunch, and I was Marty's ride to the Route
128 train station. During that ride I got to tell him his sax quartet was terrific.
Because, you see, it is.
Meanwhile, there were some stabs at starting a quartet for Quartet For The End Of
Time ensemble. So far, a few notions and some unstemmed notes on a page. Net
note count today: zero. Did I mention that this one actually pays?
Okay. So. Beff downloaded Face Time for her computer, and we've been doing the
Skype-like thing with it, 'cept better. And the cool(er) thing is that I can dial her from
the iPad, and if her computer is on it will ring -- accordingly, if she calls me, the iPad
produces a ring tone. And speaking of ring tones -- I remember when iTunes gave you
the option of turning any of your sounds into a ringtone. That was, seemingly, before
their business model inserted "sell ringtones" as a major source of income. Thus, I

downloaded a simple ringtone maker from Ambrosia Software, which works precisely
as advertised. And so when Beff calls my cell, her ringtone plays -- her saying "Flibber
Flabber Flubber Boo-Boo." It must be experienced to be experienced (it's the reflexive
property).
And then Geoffy and Mindy started coming by for their own nefarious purposes.
Geoffy for a nearly 12-day span, with interruptions, for two Brandeis gigs and a
Musica Viva gig -- and Mindy for the usual reasons. It came to a head one night when
they were both in search of accommodations, which was fine, because it meant I got
to sleep on the side porch -- and I did!
And why was I keen on sleeping on the side porch? I'm glad I asked me that. I had a
5-day trip to Washington on tap, with me driving both ways. Yes, about eight hours
each way, though it was nine hours down (traffic) and seven and a half hours back
(no traffic). Marine Chamber Orchestra conducted by Jason Fettig was doing the new
chamber orchestra arrangement of Stolen Moments, and I was invited for several
rehearsals and the gig itself. Woo hoo, said I, thought I, and did I. I stayed about four
or five blocks from the Marine Barracks, where they had the rehearsals, and the same
distance from a new up-and-coming yuppie dining neighborhood called Barracks Row.
Where I ate several times, with several people -- one dinner with Carolyn "Ka-Ching"
Davies and a brunch with David Smooke and Emily Koh -- Emily being a doctoral
student who will enter Brandeis in the fall. All was fine, good, good, fine, fine, fine,
good, fine, and good, and then some. On Barracks Row, you do not get Buffalo wings.
You get Chesapeake Wings with Buffalo sauce. There was no functional difference.
While I was gone, the two-year oddysey of fixing and replacing (slate) tiles on the
roof ended. The roof got fixed. And all I had to do was call.
So I went to those several rehearsals, and of course my music is hard enough for ten
people, and when almost thirty have to do the same stuff, including a full string
section -- whoo doggies, that's a lot of counting. It sounded pretty great, though, and
of course the wind playing was a fuori di questo mondo. Jason and La Famiglia
Colburn did Famous Dave's Barbecue one of those nights, and I saw that it was good.
The gig itself was great, and my piece went quite well. And I heard a Ginastera piece I
hadn't heard before -- wherein the only way to begin a section was imitative
entrances. Kind of an interesting conceit.
And then there was the drive back, beginning at 5 Monday morning, an undergrad
composers concert to go to at Brandeis, and ... goodness, the lawn seemed kind of
barren and sad when I left for DC, and it ... needed mowing! ... when I got back. So
out came the lawnmower, and in the gorgeous Monday weather, there I was, mowing
the lawn as if it were summer. And it wasn't! And still isn't!
And I played with my iPhone and iPad some more. I even noticed various mentions of
"Air Print" available from iPads and iPhones and certain HP printers. I looked up just
which HP printers supported Air Print, and mused that we could use a wireless printer
for the place in Vermont -- thus did I go to Staples in search of such a printer that also
supported Air Print, and voila! One such printer was on special, 35 percent off. So I
got one, and also a sort of padded binder to use as a case for the iPad, and brought
them home. Installing the printer was complex but fairly painless, and the way to get
Air Print going is to give the printer an e-mail address on an HP webpage, for which
you register for free. I got it to work with both devices, and so did Geoffy, with his
iPhone! Success. Consummate nerdliness.
Tuesday was predicted to be dank and gloomy, but was sunny and hazy-clear. I spent

most of the day hammocking and Adirondack chairing (not in the adminstrative
sense), and ended up with the first sunburn of the season. And last night, Geoffy and
I did the Cast Iron Kitchen. And we saw (and tasted) that it was good.
So now here we are at the present, the sun has just re-entered after a brief shower, I
took the big exercise walk over and around Summer Hill, and while I was gone, the
masonry guys fixed the grout that has broken and dissolved since their repair of the
front steps from 2008 .... And it's kind of cold.
Coming up -- dentist to fix a broken filling, Beff's school year ends and we go to get
HER an iPhone, must to write quartet music, and so on. Not much else in May, but
there's June a-splode, details to follow. Oh, and Beff goes to Mexico to perform, and
it'll be cool skyping or Face Timing with her, assuming she gets wi-fi wherever she is
staying.
The first two pictures are my yearly ritualistic shots of First Beer on the Hammock
and First Beer (same one, actually) in the gazebo. Then it's the Capitol Building from
the neighborhood where my DC hotel was, Sunny coming back in after rooting around
in dirty places, Beff's appearance as "January" on her department's calendar, a really
big typo at Shaw's, and two shots of the Marine Chamber Orchestra in rehearsal. Bye.
MAY 22 Breakfast was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was hot
dogs. Dinner was Trader Joe's mahi mahi burgers and salad. TEMPERATURE
EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 48.2 and 77.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS
I TYPE THIS "Easy Come, Easy Go." I'm not sure who the artist was for that. (Google
identifies George Strait as the artist, 1970) LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE No
large expenses! COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY
Whoever manufactures the Sound Machines, for shipping a defective one. To me.
COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Amazon, for having an easy
returns policy now, CVS for having lots of stuff. PET PEEVE spring bush trimming,
dandelions gone to seed everywhere. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Once in
a while when I was in high school, my sister would curl my hair -- the old fashioned
way, in curlers and under a hose hair dryer. I once had the curled hair for costume
day my junior year, and in American history class, the wizened old teacher ignored all
of our costumes. Except maybe halfway through the lecture at a natural break, he
turned to me and queried, "Rakowski, what happened to your hair?" Of course, that's
not something I would, or could, do now. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0.
CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: they're really into the catnip,which has grown huge,
and they continue to flank me at night. NEW ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page.
THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: fliorifia, the imaginary puff of smoke when your head
imaginarily explodes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN
THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I seem
to be immune to poison ivy. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN
CHARGE: Every verb ends with an e-aigu. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 16,984.
WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.95 in Maynard. THINGS THAT EASE THE
TRANSITION TO OLD AGE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some
wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
And so it goes. It goes so, and. So, and it goes? It goes so (and). A pitifully small
amount of actual work done in this reporting period, but that's okay. I was due,
having written two hours and five minutes of music since the last class I taught. As I
type this, that number is two hours and six minutes. But oh, lemme splain.
The reader may recall from the last update that my decompression from not being in
France was to immerse myself in technology. Specifically, I went all out (all out went I,

I out all went, went out I all, all I out went) and got an iPad and an iPhone. There has
been much playing with them and the exotic applications. For a while, I got into the
free autotune apps, into which I would sing glissandos and then go goo goo and gaga
over the playback, wherein my voice was turned into melisma abuse. Then there was
the Hipstamatic camera and its accessory paks -- various combos of lenses, flashes
and films for retro style and very stylish picture-taking. Now there's HDR photo stuff,
photo editing stuff, stuff to take pictures or movies in various pencil sketches or
cartoon styles, Bloom, sketching stuff, and especially lately 3-D photo taking stuff.
The 3-D stuff lets you take those stereoscopic side by side pictures like the Magic Eye
stuff that was popular in the early 90s, if I recall right -- it also does the green and
white pictures called Anaglyphs. I never Anaglyph I didn't like. And so there's been
time trolling the App Store for apps. As well as recreation, the usual long walks,
playing with the cats and all.
I had two doctorial things in this reporting period -- a routine visit to my GP doc for a
blood pressure check, which was fine, and I had also lost 10 pounds since leaving for
France. Putting me at one pound below my grad student weight. I don't know what
that actually means, but it also puts me 27 pounds under what I weighed the first
time I saw this particular GP in 2000. Woo hoo! As to the dentist, it was a routine
replacement of an old, old filling that had cracked. In and out in 30 minutes.
The most strenuous career- or work-related thing was the production of 9 scores and
36 parts destined for the saxophone quartet consortium that commissioned
"Compass". For those who haven't figured it out by context, Compass is my
saxophone quartet. The commission is for a 10-minute piece, and I wrote 19. And the
printing and binding of all that stuff took a full day. Actually extracting and
transposing the parts -- as I had worked from a C score -- was three days, but that all
happened before I went to France. Addressing 9 mailing bags and producing cover
letters -- about an hour, I guess.
I made two trips into Brandeis in the reporting period -- the first was for a grad
student composers concert, which was, as usual, wonderfully played, quite varied
stylistically, and -- not usually -- not overlong. Mindy was here for that, so she did her
teaching the next day -- which was a Sunday, and then had a party here, at the
Maynard homestead, for her students. That was a good party, with nice pizza from
the local pizzeria, and there I discovered what one student had brought and left
behind: unsweetened cranberry juice. Who knew? I love it! I finished it. I got more.
MWA ha ha. Beff was here for the party, too, and the highlight seemed to be looking
at my France pictures on the iPad. Despite that, it was a nice party. The second trip
was for a reception honoring Brandeis teachers -- I had been to that same reception
two years ago when I got my 30 percent of a teaching award, and a student who took
my theory 1 class invited me. So I went.
The outdoorization of the outdoors was completed, as one of the lawnmowers was
brought to the shed, started, and utilized, and both bicycles were oiled and the tires
inflated. The 2-year-old $12 pump seemed to be worthless (as in, the tire was flatter
after I pumped than when I started), so I walked to the bike shop next to Maynard
Door and Window and asked for their BEST PUMP. They gave it to me! Actually,they
sold it to me, for $43. And boy, was it easy to use! I'll never not use it again.
Meanwhile, Beff has been a drivin' fool. To Maine, home, to New York, home, to Maine.
And currently she is in Mexico, having gone with two of her colleagues, where they
will perform and teach for a bit more than a week. She started posting pics on
Facebook today, and we had a conversation this afternoon over Face Time on her
computer and my iPad.

Beff, too, got an iPhone, and she got into the Hipstamatic and something called
Camera Bag, an app that applies various retro styles to existing photos. Also that app
for doing cartoon or line drawing pictures or movies. We both have added various
silly ring tones -- it's the sound of a frame drum as her generic ring tone, and the
sound of me doing tongue clicks, in many layers, for my generic ring tone. If Judy
Bettina calls me, it'll be her voice singing "Why aren't you here? I await your arrival."
Fascinating.
We are replacing the bathroom upstairs -- total gutting, with new fixtures (the current
bathtub is cracked, for instance) and layout, and that may happen as soon as the
middle of July. Hmm, that's a bit of an expense... Steve from MDAW came by to scope
the place out, and he's workin' on it, workin' on it.
This week has been pure puke, weatherwise (today on NECN weather, the announcer
remarked that this is the second cloudiest month of May since 1888, and I believe
him), with temps 20 degrees below normal, and spritzy rain on and off. With a
downpour every once in a while. Yesterday had been predicted to be more of the
same, but instead it was 77 and sunny all day. I celebrated with a long walk AND a
bike ride AND lawnmowing AND writing 15 bars of music. Woo hoo! Yes, the time is
such that I have finally gotten back on the treadmill and am enforcing my 15-bar-aday regimen. As I have a quartet to write, and then a small quartet, but for a different
quartet. Currently the M.M. is 136-144, so 15 bars a day isn't a lot of music -- but it's
fast! And sort of a variation on the beginning of my Cygnus piece, except tipped sort
of on its side. So there.
And this morning I did my first new blog entry since February, this one about how to
notate swing eighths. Fascinating, I hear you not say. Woo hoo, I hear me say. And
then I contemplate the predicate nominative yet again.
So almost exactly two weeks from now I start at New Music On the Point. Two weeks
from THEN, I stop. In less than two weeks I'll be in New York for Prism Quartet's
premiere of Compass, followed by the same show in Philly the next night. Then it's
straight to NMOP, baby. And before that, I guess it's time for the inspection of my car,
which is June every year. So there. Immediately thereafter, Beff and I go to Vermont
for a coupla weeks, then we come back, and then we go back again, and, and ... oh,
it's just so...so....
The first two of this week's pics are Hipstamatics -- the Ben Smith Dam, and Cammy
sitting in Beff's place at the dining room table. Then we have a Maynard street scene
with some of the color removed (iPhone app), Cammy asleep on the scratching pad,
Sunny and Cammy in comics mode (iPhone app), me in pencil sketch mode (iPhone
app), and three of my Camargo pics given various artistic slants (iPad app). Bye.
JUNE 2 Breakfast was nothing yet, but there will be cofee and rice link sausages.
Dinner was hot dogs and salad (using up the buns). Lunch was lentil and ham soup
and a chicken sandwich at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES
SINCE LAST 56.7 and 90.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Let's
Groove Tonight, Earth Wind and Fire. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Airplane
tickets for Utah, $738; camera and accessories $148. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Best Buy for the large gap between expected
delivery while ordering and actual delivery after ordering. Staples, for a price match
guarantee that excludes other companies' websites. COMPANIES THAT HAVE
COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Best Buy, for beating everyone's price on the
camera I wanted by 35 percent. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: It was hard

to top playing a solo that was really a duo in front of the elementary school band
when I was in fifth grade, but I guess we did when I was in eighth. There was a new
building and a new music teacher, and at the final concert, Jim Hoy played drums and
I played trombone solo with Mr. (Harold) Bernstein, who played piano. The rep: Colour
My World and 25 or 6 to 4. Dad's friend Carl Eller, the saxophonist who always gave
me rides to the Enosburg Band concerts, said it was very good. NUMBER OF
HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They go nuts playing
around 3 am, I drift asleep, and shortly they are zonked, on either side of me. NEW
ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Piano music. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD:
stassle, unknown origin, seems to mean the tips of the legs of a centipede.
RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS:
2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I don't have perfect pitch, but I
seem to be excellent at identifying a metronome marking. WHAT THE NEXT BIG
TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Three-syllable words are now one-syllable
words. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 17,131. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE
RECENTLY $3.83 in Maynard. THE POPE CAN'T BE BOTHERED WITH THESE sticky gold
stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.
Dear reader, this is planned to be a short update, and the only one for the month of
June. All that has happened continues to happen, except a little later, and every time
that happens, I'm older, too.
Beff was in Mexico for ten or eleven days, and that means she wasn't here. MWA ha
ha, the place is lapsing, purposefully, into bachelor pad mode. Except I've been fairly
good at picking up shedded cat fur and sweeping the bathroom floor. Not to mention,
I even changed the cat water and the cat litter. All else, though, is getting the
bachelor guy treatment. I expect that in a few days the place will be livable again.
So in Mexico Beff taught, performed, toured, and uploaded pictures to Facebook. I
gave her -- as in, gave her -- the small Nikon camera I'd bought to take to France, and
then I yearned to have it some more. Thus, I bought one online from Best Buy, whose
$119 price beat Staples's $179 by a little bit. It has not yet arrived. I could have gone
to Staples to buy it for the higher price, and it's not in stock there. Thus, they would
take me to a kiosk and order it from the Staples web page. They would not, however,
match the Best Buy price because that's on a web page. Hence, they won't match the
price of a camera ordered from a web page to one that can be ordered with a web
page.
There. Just wanted to say that. Thank you for listening.
The weather got suddenly warm and humid, and the air conditioners went in, and
have been in fairly constant use. Until today. I have taken regular bike rides, and
when not, I have done the steep walk over and around Summer Hill -- for that I now
have to bring a headnet, since the mosquitoes (zanzare in Italian) are dense. Even
along the Assabet trail they are dense ... and the public building in the Wildlife
Preserve is now finally opened. The trails in there are, meanwhile, as they always
were, except later, and older.
Not much in the way of funness has been occupying me. Work on quartet proceeds,
and I get all the good ideas while on walks or bike rides, and this movement is harder
to write than it should be -- mostly because, perhaps, I'm a bit spent from all the
music I've written already this year. So my nefarious plan isn't working. I'll have to
rub it all over my body. But -- there are ideas. But soon the piece shall be set aside
for ...

Schedule A-Splode. Tomorrow I drive to New York for the premiere of "Compass" with
the Prism Saxophone Quartet. Then to Philly the next day for the second
performance. Then, drive back here, see Beff for the first time in a while, pack, drive
to Leicester, Vermont, for two weeks at New Music on the Point -- one day of which
will be spent driving to New York for the performance of Talking Points, and driving
back. Whoo! Then, after all of that, drive home, mow the lawns, etc., and then go to
Vermont for a couple of weeks. I am looking forward to that part -- though the lake is
very high this year and I expect not much of a beach.
Since Beff was out, most meals have been mahi mahi burgers made on the grill
(yummy, actually). And almost the only fun was tapas with Lee and Kate on Newbury
Street in Boston. I like dining with them because they are fun, and there isn't any
shop talk. And meanwhile, yesterday I did lunch in Hudson with Big Mike of the KaChing Twins. He had the tuna sandwich.
Many tornadoes here last night, thankfully very distant from here. Early in the
morning, it was steamy and muggy but clear, and I drove to Acton Toyota for my
2011 inspection sticker. And got the free breakfast. On the way back, I got some
staples at Donelans, some paper at Staples, and some more staples at Trader Joe's.
Now at 8:10 or so, I heard distant thunder and saw a big black cloud, a bit north of
where I was going to be driving (home, silly). So on my drive home I encountered
TWO hail storms -- one with fairly big hailstones (nickel size, they said on the news),a
clearning of sorts, and then in downtown Maynard, pea-sized hail. I was trying to rush
back to close the windows in the house, of course, but it turns out to have hardly
rained at all at my house. Well.
That's my weather story, and to it will sticking have been done by me.
Next update: July. MWA ha ha.
This weeks pictures: five fun things done on the iPhone and iPad. The pink clouds
were over Summer Hill (north of here) at 8:30 last night. Then there's the cats being
confused by a turtle crossing the yard, and puddles on my Assabet walk this morning.
Bye.