Over the years, I have not discerned any positive sign indicating that my rest after one large composition is done, and my mind is ready to apply itself to the next. It is a condition which I seem not to recognize, until I open the notebook and begin notating again.
Every day, I carry my notebook with me. When I am in the process of writing a piece, the reason is obvious: I make active use of the notebook. But there are many days when I carry the notebook, and it is apparently ‘dead weight’ as I make no actual use of it.
But, if I did not faithfully tote that notebook with me, day in, day out, I should have missed that inscrutable neural tickle this morning, when I composed a fresh three measures of Après-mystère.
I had gotten a start on this piece a little more than a week ago, a good start, but then there was a feeling of losing my way, for want of the fuel to travel on. And now, we are back on track.
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