September 11, 2013

Inarticulate with rage after hearing the same lecture-verbatim-- the eight or ninth year in a row. The lecture is idiosyncratic, in addition, and class discussion must fill in its holes and lacunae like a slowly rising tide. Literally inarticulate– sounded like an ass in the faculty meeting afterward.

Downtown last night for a meeting at Apothecary. Crossing Pack Plaza I saw a hummingbird moth– the second in a month, doubling my lifetime sightings of that lovely creature. Crossing Pack Plaza under the quarter moon, also encountered Colin on his bike. He looked almost literally like an angel, except for the cast on his foot. He returns here with his pockets full from marijuana farming in California. It was a joy to see him. He says the marijuana farmers voted against legalization because an illegal product fetches a higher price than a legal one. “That’s what happens to old hippies,” he said, “they go corporate.”

The Apothecary boys and I still look for a new site. One is open on Lexington. My heart sank when I heard the details, though I can’t say exactly why. My colleagues in this enterprise–whom I love–differ from me in ways I can’t always articulate. Part of it is the idea-- widespread though not universal among them– that there are no standards but preference. They also do not think of art as a made thing, but rather as a sort of loose plan for doing something artistic. Pertinent to performance space, they take very little account of the audience, and a great measure of account of the performers. Each meeting I feel like I have to push back some idea for furniture or structures that would be “cool” but further restrict the audience’s size and comfort. One observed last night that the new space would be more cramped and aggressively in-your-face, and how wonderful that was going to be. In most things, though, they are far more attentive and dutiful than I. They are all fiercely knowledgeable about acoustics, and rattle off the euphonious names of bands I never have heard of, and likely never will again. It is an unexpected pleasure to be around them.

Hired a student to waterseal DJ’s deck.

Had an excellent early morning at the studio, which I hope will set the tone for the remainder of the day.

Sat at Starbucks before the sun was up and wrote a poem.

Of course I remember where I was and what I was doing twelve years ago today.