July 4, 2020

Josquin in evening light.

Independence day–except for rolling thunder–of unusual quiet. I was weeding when something stirred against my hand. It was a fledgling flicker. I backed away so it wouldn’t be frightened and could go on with what it was doing. Sat downstairs typing when I heard a thump against the wall. The flicker had come up onto the front porch. I went out and looked into his proud, defiant eyes. I set a bowl of water out for him, and when I went out again he was gone. Rabbits in the backyard now, nibbling at the clover.

Streamed Hamilton after purchasing Disney +. I’ll say what everybody says– that I was surprised that it was as good as everybody said. The first five minutes made me impatient, until I got used to the presentation. It was moving, well-made, inspiring. Oddly, Miranda himself was the weakest performer, without the radiance of many of the others. I wonder if anyone dared to notice that? Maybe he should been satisfied with the laurel of the creator.

May have started a political blog. Will check in the morning of I want to go through with it.

Remembering the first time I heard Jannequin.

Remembering Toni and me auditioning for Pro Musica in New York. I made it and she did not. She sat me down at the table and said, “I’m only going to say this once. I’m a better singer than you. You just made it because they needed men. That’s all that needs to be said about that.” I realized how far apart we had grown, and had no idea how to close the gap.

Remembering the Allegri, and Penny pinching out those high notes in the darkened Saviour.

Remembering the first time singing Machaut, like entering a new world, a vocal version of Conan Doyle’s Lost World