sondheim at panix.com
Mon Jun 29 15:09:54 CEST 2020
I call this steam because I had that seizure yesterday in the
heat. Which started me thinking about a call to God from the
heat. When I play shakuhachi it's my breath, no one can take that
away from me. No one wants, no one gets, my breath. It's mine.
The mask makes sure of that. But my breath loves shakuhachi,
takes pleasure in the sound of bamboo, an old shakuhachi, much
older bamboo. And reverse reverberation seems to reverse time in
a way God approves. God approves of me. You most likely do not.
But in God I find a way forward. In my music which is ours alone.
No one else wants this music. No one else buys it. No one else
cares. I care and the music cares. The shakuhachi cares. And that
reverse reverberation, well there is community, always
accompanying me, I grant it space, the sound expands, as if it
lives forever. I know if it wasn't for Azure, I might not be
here. Later, she'll have all this to deal with. I would have
hoped for a better life for her, a more stable one for me. I
endure, my equipment ages, things stop working, I fear police and
crowds. My breath is my own. It's harmless. The music is a trace.
My breath is Azure's.
We saw killdeer on the walk yesterday, only the second time one's
been downtown. It took our breath away. Later, something took my
breath away but it came back.
Rain today, thunder later, again.
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