Happy just-past holidays to you all, my few lovely readers!
Without exception everything worth doing in this excruciatingly long/short span of this breathing/heartbeating business we’re invested in is right on the border of whim and compulsion. Implausible that they can be neighbors, but there they are, peering over the fence at each other whenever anything matters, i.e. one’s challenges and pleasures (and is there much else to do with your time when the essentials of feeding and funding are done).
New year, holidays, horrible Xmas letters with horrible personal updates, arrogant resolutions… this is where this post is now veering. Whim is going to try to led a cup of sugar to compulsion in an effort to get me to post regularly. An effort of greater benefit to me than to those of you who continue to gamely check in now and again, but still. And now that I’ve reestablished one pointless goal, perhaps– and moving from blog to piano– I have a little room to let slack a little one line of somewhat aimlessly grim discipline). Here whim and compulsion stop bickering over whose property line that especially distracting shrubbery is on and can enjoy each other’s company for a while… Bartok sure came up with some admirably weird yet genuinely instructive pedagogical volumes, didn’t he? A composer that’s meant so much for me for decades, for reasons I don’t even understand fully (Where/why did I pick up the Bartok? Not sure, but at any rate, aged 12 spinning.. what would it have been…Flipper? don’t remember the particulars there, but I do remember also spinning string quartet #4 and not being able to shelve it for long despite pleas/advice to do so. ). At any rate, whether “for children” or whether the Mikrocosmos that I realize is going to turn brutally unmanageable soon, tears of uncomprehending shocked pleasure that with whatever degree of ghastly ineptitude I can start in a small way working at this stuff.