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Category: reading table

Thursday, December 4th

sounds of New York (day three)

If this life of ours isn’t easy, why should our music be?

Alex Mincek (1975-), String Quartet No. 3; Mivos Quartet, live, New York, 2013


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lagniappe

reading table

By Emily Dickinson (1830-1886; Franklin 384)

It dont sound so terrible—quite—as it did—
I run it over—”Dead”, Brain—”Dead”.
Put it in Latin—left of my school—
Seems it don’t shriek so—under rule.

Turn it, a little—full in the face
A Trouble looks bitterest—
Shift it—just—
Say “When Tomorrow comes this way—
I shall have waded down one Day”

.

I suppose it will interrupt me some
Till I get accustomed—but then the Tomb
Like other new Things—shows largest—then—
And smaller, by Habit—

It’s shrewder then
Put the Thought in advance—a Year—
How like “a fit”—then—
Murder—wear!

Monday, December 1st

If I wanted to listen in on a conversation in a language I already know, I could go to Starbucks.

Christian Wolff (1934-), Pulse (1998); Jens Bracher (trumpet) & Julian Belli (percussion), live, Germany (Mannheim), 2011

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lagniappe

reading table

The Idea
by Mark Strand (April 11, 1934-November 29, 2014)

For us, too, there was a wish to possess
Something beyond the world we knew, beyond ourselves,
Beyond our power to imagine, something nevertheless
In which we might see ourselves; and this desire
Came always in passing, in waning light, and in such cold
That ice on the valley’s lakes cracked and rolled,
And blowing snow covered what earth we saw,
And scenes from the past, when they surfaced again,
Looked not as they had, but ghostly and white
Among false curves and hidden erasures;
And never once did we feel we were close
Until the night wind said, “Why do this,
Especially now? Go back to the place you belong;”
And there appeared , with its windows glowing, small,
In the distance, in the frozen reaches, a cabin;
And we stood before it, amazed at its being there,
And would have gone forward and opened the door,
And stepped into the glow and warmed ourselves there,
But that it was ours by not being ours,
And should remain empty. That was the idea.

Saturday, November 29th

alone

Tashi Dorji, live (WFMU performance space), Jersey City, N.J., 9/7/14

 

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lagniappe

reading table

‘Like manufacturers’ instructions. In case of failure, try words.’

—Penelope Fitzgerald, Offshore

Friday, November 28th

only rock ‘n’ roll

Couldn’t make it to Paris? (Me neither.)

St. Vincent, live, Paris, 10/31/14


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lagniappe

reading table

Most of the time I think of the self as a snare, and I don’t like being trapped in it. I try to reach out beyond my pittance of experience and connect to the world, but it turns out one way to do that is to be honest and accurate about my own life. I’m not convinced the personal is all that unique, anyway. It sometimes seems immoderate to claim really exceptional personal experiences, even though some of those experiences, particularly the painful ones, leave you with the worst feelings of isolation, feelings that have all the character of an absolutely individual, completely unprecedented experience—but you always find out that you aren’t alone. There are others, lots of others.

—Charles D’Ambrosio, email interviewNew Yorker blog, 11/26/14

Monday, November 24th

Why not begin the week with something beautiful?

John Cage (1912-1992), In a Landscape (1948); Shira Legmann (piano), live, Boston

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lagniappe

reading table

Winter garden,
the moon thinned to a thread,
insects singing.

—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694; translated from Japanese by Robert Hass)

Saturday, November 22nd

never enough

Sometimes, it seems, nothing is more precious than clarity.

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Partita No. 2 in C minor
Tatiana Nikolayeva (1924-1993), piano

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lagniappe

reading table

The hill I see
Every day
Is holy

—Samuel Menashe (1925-2011)

Thursday, November 20th

alone

Masayoshi Fujita, “Snow Storm,” 2012

 

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lagniappe

reading table

early winter seclusion—
whose thin smoke
over there?

—Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827; translated from Japanese by David G. Lanoue)

Sunday, November 2nd

back to church

“I Don’t Mind,” live, St. Luke Baptist Church, Sharon, South Carolina, 2003


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lagniappe

reading table

harvest moon—
I tell you it’s cold
on Shinano Mountain!

—Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827; translated from Japanese by David G. Lanoue)

Sunday, October 26th

basement jukebox

The Capitalaires, “Holy Ghost” (c. 1964)

 

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lagniappe

reading table

This road—
no one goes down it,
autumn evening.

—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694; translated from Japanese by Robert Hass)

 

Sunday, October 19th

sounds of Mississippi

Pastor Evelyn Hubbard (Commerce Boulevard Christian Church, Robinsonville, Miss.), “Take My Hand, Precious Lord” (T. Dorsey), live (TV show)

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lagniappe

reading table

A stray cockroach ran around on the desk in a panic near Nevyrazimov’s writing hand.

—Anton Chekhov (1860-1904), “Small Fry” (translated from Russian by Cathy Popkin)