A Composer’s Journal August 23 - September 3, 2005

Journal entries by composer and pianist Laurie Conrad

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A Composer’s Journal August 23 - September 3, 2005

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A Composer’s Journal August 23 - September 3, 2005

Tuesday, August 23
10 p.m.
Windgarth House

In the high 60's, windy. Stopped at Happy Landing, the diner, on the way to Windgarth tonight. Was so chilly I went back to the car and threw my blue and white striped bathtowel over my shoulders to stand in line outside, for ice cream. The fields across open, like the sea, a small silo glinting silver in the distance. Woods directly across route 96, the sun coming through the tall, thin trees, casting long shadows. Finally we decided to go in for dinner. No swimming tonight, far too cold and blustery.

Seated at a small table near a window, the familiar Elvis pictures on the walls, framed; old records. Mostly elderly customers, some at the counter, a few at tables. Fairly empty tonight.

As we were eating a very skinny man entered; middle-aged, fairly short, an interesting nose; hunched over, like a bent reed. He more or less slunk in, as though somehow beaten by or resisting life itself; it looked like he was wearing some sort of uniform. He went over to the first table by the door, a small table for two, and sat down. Later, M. said: “He was wearing a baseball cap, a white shirt - & a grey jacket & pants. He looked like a clerk.” He did. One directly out of a Dickens’ novel. I imagined him stooped over his wooden desk, squinting over his work in the London gloom of a century past.

The owner of the diner, who is a very large lady, approached him - like a battleship hovering over a rowboat. She spoke more or less for him. Even when he spoke it more seemed as though he was not speaking; more like fragments of sound than sentences. “If you came every Tuesday, I’d have two fish dinners waiting for you. You missed last week.” The thought of the thread of a man before us eating two fish dinners was inconceivable. (Undoubtedly, he would eat the second fish dinner the following day, M. later pointed out.) A few utterances by the clerk. “Okay, but if you are not here by 7:30, I’ll sell them”. “Fridays two chicken dinners. What vegetable? Potato, beets or asparagus?” A clear “asparagus” was his answer, & then the fellow with the interesting nose put on earphones & waited for his dinner. While he waited, M. & I discussed Deb, & decided that we would hire Cindy’s daughter Rachel to clean Windgarth in the future. We’d worry about the gardens and the lawns next spring.

Saturday, August 27
2 p.m.

Almost out of Visions CDs, time to order more. Have not written any music in the last few days. Dave the physicist arrived Thursday & left again Friday morning, before dawn. The cyclotron at Cornell broke down while he was on the plane to Ithaca. Had dinner out together. He had a cold & went to bed early. In our short time together, he told us about i-Robot, a robotic vacuum cleaner.

Bought one today, for Windgarth. Short, round & red, it’s charging its batteries now.

This notebook has only a few empty pages left; M. bought me new ones today, for the future. Diana wrote: she might be coming to Ithaca for a few weeks in October. Perhaps we can finish up the new books then. M. is going to a conference next weekend. Perhaps I will go to Windgarth & work on my score.

Rain. Rain, for the first time in many weeks. Cool tonight, in the 60's.


Sunday, August 28
Windgarth House
2:45 p.m.

Unpacked the house, we have the downstairs until the 14th of September. Arranged flowers in the downstairs vases. Put a few things in the fridge. In the low 80's today, perfect for floating on the lake in an inner tube.

Took i-Robot, our new little friend, out of the box. After some thought, we named him Gulliver. Charged his batteries, pressed the ‘clean’ button & watched him go. The rug hasn’t looked that clean since we bought it. He goes under beds and chairs. His method is a bit like Deb mowing the lawns, but in time he does get to every inch. We watched him for about - minutes & then left him alone with his work.

When he is done downstairs, then upstairs he will go.

Gulliver makes a chugging sort of sound, like a small locomotive or toy train. Impressive. It seems as though he has delicate, thin blades or brushes of some sort that twirl; he’s like a small upside-down red helicopter. The instruction book says that he also does wood & linoleum floors, sweeps them clean. We have to clean his sensors every once in a while with Q-tips. He does a far better job than Deb ever did.

9 p.m.
My harpist Myra, and the writer Kate Millett arrived around 3:30. We showed them Gulliver & then went down to the shore. I turned to Kate & said: “Say something brilliant for my Composer’s Journal”. She smiled & said: “But I’ve already said it.” I thanked Kate for writing a review of my book a few years ago. Kate & I watched Myra and M. gather seaweed off the beach & put it in the gardens. The day was soft, hazy, overcast, & I told Kate that the lake was not at its best. That often the colours were deep & changing, shades of blues & greens and with white caps in the distance. She said “The lake does seem to lack a certain crispness”.

They stayed until dark, & we ended the day with a short & leisurely walk to the Point. Gulliver is recharging, & then he’ll finish the upstairs.

Kate’s review of my book, “The Spiritual Life of Animals and Plants”, which I have framed & propped up near the computer in town: “I think it was Nigel who persuaded me - really persuaded me - that birds sing deliberately and with great effort. That their attack upon the air is the work of a gifted musician in some cases or just the chatter of a sing along Charley in others. And for the latter this teacher “didn’t have the patience”. But for Nigel, for that talent, she did.

And since Nigel had a gifted teacher “I began to give him instruction inwardly. I had, after all, been a piano teacher for twenty years.” She takes over, and you see that sacred relationship. For a moment: teacher and pupil. You fancy you know it. You don’t. But you have glimpsed into something that happens in rare instances between two people. Woops - between a teacher and a bird. Both musicians.”

Monday, August 29

Windgarth. Alone today. Will try to get caught up on letters. Also brought the score to work on.

6:05
Rachel came by with the boys. Showed them Gulliver. Went down to the lake & they collected rocks for almost two hours. Taught the boys how to wrap rocks in newspaper, the proper way. Waving goodbye, I felt Cindy standing there with me.

Worked briefly on the score. Will begin copying it out tomorrow. It will be beautiful. E-mailed Bob Spear again, about the Albert Consort applying for a grant to commission me - no response as yet. I’ll check e-mail tonight, when I am back in Ithaca.

Wednesday, August 31

An e-mail from Myra, “We had a lovely day with you at the lake”. From Kate: “ Good luck with your new compositions. It was wonderful to be at the lake for a day - in your little paradise.”

Back in town: Someone on the corner, holding a camera, taking pictures of the gardens ...

Still heartbroken about the hurricane survivors down south. M. came home from work and said: “I smell a rat”. I had smelled that same rat. The affected areas are all poor, & mainly black. M’s secretary is in the Army reserves, & she is outraged as well. She said our government has the capacity to get those people out and give them all that they need within twenty four hours. Just shameful! We had weeks, years to prepare for this emergency.

Friday, September 2
Windgarth

Sarah & Chris came to Windgarth today, for the first time. Floated in the lake, in the sun. Arranged with Jim down the block to mow the lawns. Our new upstairs tenants capsized the canoe on their first voyage out, near the Point - had to be rescued. In our cove it was windy, a southern wind, but fairly calm. Showed them Gulliver. Walked to the Point after dinner, an orange/cream glow in the sky. The water indigo. Chris & Sarah walked further on, I returned to Windgarth & sat on the dock, still thinking about the sky. Later, stars. On the way back to Ithaca, I mentioned the fragrances in class, the incense and flower scents that had started again. Chris said that I had brought them with me to Windgarth House, that he had distinctly smelled frankincense twice, as he entered the downstairs. He said that he could not truly recognize the scent, yet it was as though he had always known it. The scents were on the edge of his perception, almost not there, but definitely there. I knew exactly what he meant. I agreed, but added that when Our Lady was present, the fragrance of roses was so strong that it was almost overpowering. Sarah said the same, beautiful Sarah the dancer ... In class last Wednesday, two new meditators had come to class, M. had invited them. After meditation, the fragrance of perfume was again so strong, I asked if anyone was wearing perfume. Of course, no one was ... Chris asked if others were aware of the fragrances, and I said “yes, almost everyone had experienced them”. He was surprised. I added that I was not allowed to clairvoyantly see the beings; but the fragrances were welcomed because everyone in class could experience them, clairvoyant or not. He smiled, and agreed that it was very fortunate for all. I mentioned St. Bonaventure’s writings and Chris said that the Hindus had a similar six-stage system for thought, the highest being Enlightenment. We discussed this for the remainder of the trip into Ithaca.

Millie’s friend Migdalia is in town, & since I taught her to meditate earlier in the summer her Light is so clear, her eyes bright ... An incredible change from the dim, murky light she used to carry with her. I have rarely seen such a fast & complete change. After her first meditation, she had cried beautiful, thankful tears of joy. Now I see why.

Still heartsick about the devastation in the south and the lack of response from out government. Our president has finally turned his attention there, his vacation over today. Many people have been without food & water this entire time. Untold numbers still trapped in houses & other buildings. And fires have begun. The lawlessness continues. On CNN two police officers cried. The national guard is nowhere to be seen in New Orleans, even these many days later.

Saturday, September 3
Windgarth House

St. Bonaventure’s book arrived today, nicely wrapped in brown paper. We will begin to study it this week in class. An e-mail from Bob Spear. He is still in the midst of organizing his string convention, which will be in November. He wrote: “The Arabs have a saying that I am only now coming to appreciate: “What will your rationality be worth when everyone around you has gone mad?” He has contacted the grant people, and will get back to me.

Coming back into town with JF & Lenny: dragons everywhere in the sky. I wasn’t looking for them - but there they were.

The terrible situation in the south is improving. Although a new storm is forming off Florida. I have begun copying out the Prayer to Our Lady for choir & Spear’s string octet, the Albert Consort (eventually for stringed orchestra).
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