havana, cuba

the nickname of my room, which feels, on a good night, like the tropics - at least 10º warmer than the rest of my apartment, due mainly to the fact that i keep my door shut at all times for fear of clay, our black cat, or rather for fear of his hair all over my things.

new york is so cold my face hurts. the wind is raw, uncompromising: winter is here to stay, friends. snuggle up and hold tight.

i have fought (mostly on the phone) the last few days as a patient advocate for myself. pharmacies can be frighteningly against the welfare of their patients. my conclusion: duane reade is the devil. meditate on this next time you swing by to nab a new prescription...

2010 is fast approaching; what will be in store? on my docket are a solid translation of goethe's faust and jonathan harvey's nataraja (for flute doubling piccolo and piano) whilst training to tutor for 826nyc, dave eggers' outfit in the back vault of the brooklyn superhero supply.

and so it goes, it goes.

fresh

i've met the merry band of musicking kids with the newly minted juilliard historical performance program, and i must say i'm impressed. they played a concert at paul hall last week to a nearly full house...i am in love, so much love, with telemann's paris flute quartet. adriane post (fiddle) and andrew arceci (gamba) were formidable. i look forward to increasingly daring programming and devilish music that tragically isn't heard enough in new york city.

saturday saw me between libraries (NYPL and BK central branch) dropping off scores and picking up an armful of fiction in the dying afternoon light of grand army plaza.

sunday i shopped, oh did i shop, for a few christmas presents down in the 'hood of dave eggers' adorable brooklyn superhero supply company. a can of intelligence for the office party, a copy of eggers' wild things book for lukas, a long brown corduroy jacket that fits me like a glove. it rained and rained and rained...

...and after produce at russman's i booked it to (le) poisson rouge for a hilarious show by the ensemble acjw, ever full of surprises. the nightclub setting ultimately worked in their favor - stockhausen's tierkreis swung and jostled everyone's waltzing heartstrings; luciano berio's oboe sequenza and it's ever-present b natural was evocatively spun by heartthrob and rock star james austin smith; jon deak's b.b. wolf, rendered expertly by memory by bassist evan premo in a wolf hat and tail, bemoaned the discriminatory literary tropes of the lupin creature (tango and blues, amigos...with howling); biber's sonata representativa - owen dalby, violin, with supporting cast - evoked all kinds of animals while adhering fast to the conventions of 16th century counterpoint; davidovsky's synchronisms no. 9 for solo violin - yonah zur - weaved and spun itself around the electronic sounds, which to me evoked a wind, rather than a stringed, instrument; finally, daníel bjarnason's bow to string, originally for solo cello plus a lot of prerecorded cellos and arranged especially for the ensemble for the evening's performance, proved haunting and delectable. i'd like to hear more from this guy.

and so, it seems, i am taken by this ensemble. at least in concept. with that, i leave you, fair readers (however few), to cook.