12.10.17

Up at 6. Watched a few SNL sketches, went to Starbucks at 7:30, worked on “form” for 3 hrs. (because I knew the rest of the day would be occupied). 625 words. Came back, cleaned up, took train/PATH/cab to Jersey City w/ Bree; read a chunk of Percival Everett, I Am Not Sidney Poitier on the way. Found our way to a small upstairs theater to see a very traditional, non-edgy/arty/updated puppet show based on The Magic Flute with about 9 kids. (I won’t go into how Bree found out about/got interested in the puppeteer’s company; he also has a theater in Brooklyn, which she’ll see something else at w/o me next week.) Met Robin Edgerton, who lives nearby at a French place around the corner, had lunch and talked ‘til 4 or so. Walked back to PATH station, saw the sights of Newark Avenue and made a quick scan of a holiday pop-up market. More Everett on train back. Back to JH around 6, Bree went home while I stopped in E77 for a while. Had a coffee, read first ¼ of Michael Robins (not Robbins – must be annoying), Ladies & Gentleman, which I’d picked up in NC. (The Everett too, come to think of it.) Couplets, soft surrealism. Wrote ahead in daybook (current notebook will be full Dec. 26).

Back home, started writing a letter related to Bree’s insurance, but needed more info; will call tomorrow. Talked about a few things, then I tried to play my Sidney Poitier reads Plato LP – unfortunately, it’s a little warped and the first couple tracks on each side jump. But what I could hear, between the oratorical style and Fred Katz’s music is…way-out man. Played some Jean Carroll for Bree, and then organized some LPs to side one of a Barry Harris reissue. That takes us to 10 pm; not much after that. Lights out 12:15.

Should record that my father called just before we met Robin to tell me that my great-aunt Rosina Cordasco, who had a fall and a stroke a few days ago, died today. I think she was 90 or 91. Being at her house for Christmas Day and the 4th of July were constants of my life for decades. This venue isn’t suited for saying more.

12.9.17

Up 8-ish, went out by 11, stopped for coffee at a Japanese snack place on 80th I hadn’t been in, fine but not suitable for working. Went to Lucid in Woodside. Worked on “formalism” section of intro from 11-3, but really felt like I was spinning my wheels and didn’t add much. Read Evie Nagy’s 33 1/3 on Freedom of Choice (which I’d started on the train in); well-reported. Daybook. Got back around 5, rested, finished Nagy and read all but the last 2 long poems in Lauterbach.

But if the love of data refutes mystery
must the philosopher walk away?
The poet is a procrastinator
and a revisionist. She observes
the river is for the birds. She recalls
the sacred Nantucket coast.
Her vision is empirical
even as a love of mystery refutes data. (118)

This is a nicer expression of argument between philosophy and poetry than most, but I object to the word “refutes.” Stayed around the house in the evening, mostly doing email – sent rough mixes of horn songs to Cheryl and Steve (the Scene Is Now), just as a first step. And that was one of the bigger accomplishments. Read last 2 Lauterbach poems (“Elements of the Poem,” a little clearer the most of the book, and “Song of the O,” an Emerson erasure. Lights out shortly thereafter, about 11:45.

12.8.17

Up 9. Moved some plants for Bree. At E77 around 11:30, read James bio and wrote a long message to a listerv (about sexual impropriety in the UCLA phil. dept.). Maybe not the greatest use of my time. Came home, napped and finished the James book – which is not quite the “appreciation” the jacket copy suggests. Dhondy, who knew James well in the 1970s, presents him as complex but rather self-serving, and neither as simple nor consistent in his views (on revolution and Black Power, among other things) as is presented by those who drop his name. I should read the work itself, at least some essays, but when? Moved more plants, went back out about 7:30, first at E77 and then (after the blues trio started) to Starbucks, to write Black Box Recorder piece I’d promised for HiLobrow. Not deep, but pretty smooth sailing – wrote 600 words, cut it to 500. Done by 11, didn’t stay up long after I came back.

12.7.17

Up in the middle of the night for a while, to no effect – though I did write to Dan Clucas about the possibility of a show in Pasadena in January. Up for good around 9, got out before 11 – realized I’d forgot the C.L.R. James book, but it didn’t matter b/c I ran into Ken L. and we chatted on the train. Which wasn’t running local, so it took a while to get to LIC. Spent 1:30-6 at Communitea. Watched a 10 min. intro video on Scrivener (which I’m using, but in an ad hoc way), and imported the first 3 sections of the intro therein, polishing a bit. They’re pretty good, but need more fns. Started to get back into the next section, in a limited way – feeling resistance. Read a bit of Ann Lauterbach (no relation to Ken, I’ve asked) somewhere in here. Called my dad when I left. Took train to Chelsea for Peter Kotik’s S.E.M Ensemble concert at Paula Cooper Gallery. Good program note here. The Cage was an hour of overlapping solos, w/ performers scattered through, moving around, and sometimes leaving the gallery space – as I told Bree later, if you didn’t know it was an avant-garde performance, you’d think you were in the dayroom in Marat/Sade. Kotik’s own piece was a somewhat monotonous setting from the early ‘70s of Stein’s “Composition as Explanation” (the same essay David Greenspan did as a memorized monologue a couple years ago) – a bit like plainsong, with a fairly attractive, even consonant flute and/or trombone obbligato. Julius Eastman’s Macle involved Kotik and three other singers vocalizing (screaming, mumbling, with some passages of discernible text) in rough unison, with a big finish of the three younger members rushing around the gallery yelling “Take heart, take heart…” while Kotik, in his sixties, collapsing on a yoga mat and quietly reciting some final text. I should study up on Eastman. Saw Steve Silverstein; he pointed out Phil Niblock. Home; cold. Listened to an episode of a reasonably well-regarded “intellectual” podcast, which I won’t name – was genuinely surprised by how shallow and smug it was, on both sides of the conversation. Already past midnight when I got back, didn’t have the fortitude to read. Bree still up, related her travails at the annual building meeting (she lost a vote about our door numbers). Lights out 12:30.

[Colin Newman, “Alone on Piano” to Ray Stevens, “Along Came Jones”]

12.6.17

Woke up at 7:30. Paid a parking ticket from Peekskill. Realized that I’d blown off calling into jury duty Friday. (It’s too late. Not sure what consequence to expect.) Went to E77 around 9. Finished the Hiss book – interesting thoughts on urbanism and landscape planning, but the rah-rah Ted-talk quality of the exposition got to me. Daybook – had a couple of actual ideas for short poems, so worked ahead. Read 2nd section of Lauterbach, a long lyric essay called “Task: To Open.” Roughly equal doses of: reflections on her alienation from some recent poetic trends, not to mention social media; glosses on Emerson; some fairly de rigeur suspicion about reason/rationality – and a couple of stunning passages of vivid imagery/distributed attention, esp. p. 71, that justify the enterprise. Came home, started reading Farrukh Dhondy, C.L.R. James. (I fell so far behind on my self-imposed quotas of reading prose and poetry last month that I feel like getting at least up to, if not over, my usual pace and the time devoted to my “reading life,” which feels in some way at least as important as doing the same with writing.) Anyway – I know so little about James, really, that it seems like getting the shape of the life will help me decide what to read; this author seems very invested in James’ non-rejection of, broadly, the West (more narrowly, English lit + public school/cricketer values) despite his Marxism and advocacy of colonial self-determination. W/o knowing other secondary literature, I’m suspecting that this is only one way of viewing his work.