Gravity Is In

 Ernest Borgnine playing a Russian (in Ice Station Zebra.) Now I have lived!
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

A dull, argumentative bigmouth who sets back the art of conversation a thousand years...
— Rod Serling (1963)

With the completion of One for Ahmad, Op. 208 for the 1 December troika, and apparently semi-subconsciously reflecting that there is probably room/need for another piece, yesterday I wrapped up the Opus 210. Semi-subconsciously, because a night or two before I dreamt of composing a piece. In my dream the initial conceit of the piece came to me clearly: an ostinato with the two flutes which takes its time, thereby setting up the drama of the bass clarinet entrance. In my dream the piece bore the title The Measure of a Life, which is one of those things which seemed better in the dreamworld than upon waking. But what I felt was the title which suited the piece as it took shape in my waking labors was Gravity Is What Keeps Me Abed at Night.

Photo by Maria Bablyak.

Re-Thinking December

 While it is by no means the chiefest of my quarrels with Peter Jackson’s Tolkien adaptation, the accent in Sméagol is so glaringly obvious, I fail to see any rationale whatsoever for rhyming it with “beagle.”
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Gene Wilder: Do you call this tea?
Marty Feldman: No, I call it hot water. I was rinsing out the cup when you grabbed it.
— The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes’ Smarter Brother

First thoughts for our December date at King’s Chapel appeared here. However, we shall again be a trio, though a different trio. As a result, I have designated a new scoring and discovered new musical material for One for Ahmad, Op. 208. Dennis Báthory-Kitsz, Frank Warren  & Chris Forbes have graciously and gamely consented to compose into the change, as well. And another new piece is sneaking up on me: Gravity Is What Keeps Me Abed at Night.

And we have July rehearsals in the book for the Sextet.