Ah, Yes—Knew I Was Forgetting Something

 He speaks his mind. It’s just not much of a mind.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I’m the son of a sea cook!

And I’m not a cab driver: I’m a coffee pot!

— The closing lines of Arsenic and Old Lace

My post yesterday ran to sufficient length that I do not greatly bemoan having left some business yet unfinished. I noted that the next thing is to rehearse and present two concerts here in Woburn by our fresh new sextet. But then what, eh? When I am ready for more creative work, there is the third Opus 178 flute duet, Janky Juke Joint, on which I have made a highly satisfactory albeit brief start. The Opus 200 band piece which I have begun scheming. Why, there is even the habitually neglected O singer bashful and tender, I hear your notes, on which, if as yet I still feel no burning motivation to resume work, I feel an easeful confidence that when I do at last turn attention back upon it, the work will move quickly. For me a more nearly urgent item of unfinished business (although this waiteth entirely upon the grace of others) is the limbo into which the two new pieces for Ensemble Aubade (Swiss Skis and Bicycling Into the Sun) have somehow fallen. I am seriously entertaining the idea of creating an organ solo version of the former for Robt Jan August. Lastly, I should report that I have sent ther recording of the Viola Sonata to, yes, a violist who is a recent acquaintance, and I have sent A Dance Floor for the Introverted to my friend Orlando Cela.