Kim Kashkashian (viola), “In memoriam Blum Tamás” by György Kurtág (from Signs, Games, and Messages for solo viola [1998-2005]), live, Germany (Hamburg), 2020
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lagniappe
random sights
other day, Chicago (Columbus Park)
*****
reading table
The world? Moonlit
drops shaken
from the crane’s bill.
—Dogen (1200-1253), translated from Japanese by Lucien Stryk with the assistance of Noboru Fujiwara
Rev. Al Green, “The Lord Will Make a Way” (T. A. Dorsey), live, Memphis (Full Gospel Tabernacle Church), 1983
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lagniappe
random sights
other day, Oak Park, Ill.
*****
reading table
Commonplace miracle:
that so many commonplace miracles happen.
An ordinary miracle:
in the dead of night
the barking of invisible dogs.
One miracle out of many:
a small, airy cloud
yet it can block a large and heavy moon.
Several miracles in one:
an alder tree reflected in the water,
and that it’s backwards left to right
and that it grows there, crown down
and never reaches the bottom,
even though the water is shallow.
An everyday miracle:
winds weak to moderate
turning gusty in storms.
First among equal miracles:
cows are cows.
Second to none:
just this orchard
from just that seed.
A miracle without a cape and top hat:
scattering white doves.
A miracle, for what else could you call it:
today the sun rose at three-fourteen
and will set at eight-o-one.
A miracle, less surprising than it should be:
even though the hand has fewer than six fingers,
it still has more than four.
A miracle, just take a look around:
the world is everywhere.
An additional miracle, as everything is additional:
the unthinkable
is thinkable.
—Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012; MCOTD Hall of Fame), “Miracle Fair,” translated from Polish by Joanna Trzeciak
Mitsuko Uchida (piano), live, London, 12/16/20: Franz Schubert (1797-1828), Piano Sonatas in C major (“Reliquie,” 3:40-) and G major (“Fantasy,” 42:00-)
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lagniappe
random sights
yesterday, Chicago (Columbus Park)
*****
reading table
Listening deeply,
sometimes—in another—you can hear
the sound of a hermit, sighing
as he climbs a mountain trail to reach
a waterfall
or a Buddhist nun reciting prayers
while moonlight falls through the window
onto an old clay floor,
and once in a while, a child
rolling a hoop through the alleyways of Tokyo,
laughing,
or a farmer pausing in a rice field to watch
geese fly,
the thoughts on his lips he doesn’t think to say.
Saturday I posted the first of these two (wonderful) performances; here’s the second.
Mars Williams presents: An Ayler Xmas Vol. 4 (Night 2) (Mars Williams, tenor saxophone, toy instruments; Josh Berman, cornet; Jim Baker, piano, viola, ARP synthesizer; Krzysztof Pabian, bass; Brian Sandstrom, bass, guitar, trumpet; Steve Hunt, drums; Peter Maunu, violin), live (performance begins at 5:15), Chicago (Constellation), 12/19/20
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lagniappe
random sights
other day, Oak Park, Ill.
*****
reading table
An empty day without events.
And that is why
it grew immense
as space. And suddenly
happiness of being
entered me.
I heard
in my heartbeat
the birth of time
and each instant of life
one after the other
came rushing in
like priceless gifts.
—Anna Swir (1909-1984), “Priceless Gifts” (translated from Polish by Czesław Miłosz and Leonard Nathan)
Hamid Drake (drums, percussion; MCOTD Hall of Fame), Michael Zerang (drums, percussion), Joshua Abrams (bass, gumbri), Ayako Kato (movement), live, Chicago (Constellation), last night
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lagniappe
random sights
yesterday, Chicago
*****
reading table
Don’t say my hut has nothing to offer:
come and I will share with you
the cool breeze that fills my window.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), translated from Japanese by John Stevens
United House of Prayer Shout Bands, live, published 2011
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lagniappe
random sights
a while ago, Ireland (Dingle Peninsula)
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reading table
Do you sometimes imagine that you’re getting used to the emergency? I think I can guarantee that you’re not, burdened by states of mind that will be comprehensible only retrospectively, when they no longer pertain. The world going on nonetheless, as the world will, feels bizarrely conditional, subject in thought and action to a blanketing subjunctive mood: things as we wish they were. We are waiting this out with nostalgia for lost freedoms, fear and empathy in the present, and, perhaps, vague anticipation of eventual survivor’s guilt. Never has social privilege seemed more unfair while being clung to so tenaciously. Some of us—artists—are undergoing the siege in ways that can alert us to the subjective dimensions of an objective calamity. We should want those people to keep it up as best they can.
—Peter Schjeldahl, “The Art World: The Melancholy Gestalt of Isolation” (reviewing 100 Drawings from Now, Drawing Center, New York), New Yorker, website (12/14/20), 12/21/20 issue (“The Fix We’re In”)
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streaming
Tomorrow, 6:30 a.m. (CST): the 30th annual winter solstice concert by Chicago-based percussionists Michael Zerang and Hamid Drake (MCOTD Hall of Fame).
Mars Williams presents: An Ayler Xmas Vol. 4 (Night 1) (Mars Williams, tenor saxophone, toy instruments; Josh Berman, cornet; Jim Baker, piano, viola, ARP synthesizer; Krzysztof Pabian, bass; Brian Sandstrom, bass, guitar, trumpet; Steve Hunt, drums; Peter Maunu, violin), live (performance begins at 3:45), Chicago (Constellation), last night
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lagniappe
random sights
other day, Chicago
*****
reading table
Such a moon—
the thief
pauses to sing.
—Yosa Buson (1716-1784), translated from Japanese by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto