Archive for January, 2007
Some otherworldly music for these otherworldy creations.
Three offerings to the sea gods, found within yards of each other on my walk. Each, unique. Last year I met one such worshipper; but how many are there out there?
And I do mean, out there.
Do visitors from another orb descend quietly during the night and leave proof of their interest? Are these their version of a handshake, or a tip o’ th’ hat?
And just how would such gentle aliens be welcomed, by a species whose leaders are intent on destruction?movie escape from hellmovies anal extremefamily incest moviesmovies family sexmovies felching3d free movies sexanal free sex moviecumshot movie galleries bestiality freeporn movies tit free bigmovie busty samples free
Some weather music.
This afternoon in the hills that hover above Malibu, enough snow fell to warrant the closure of a main canyon road between our hamlet and the rest of civilization, also known to some as the Ventura Freeway. But instead of spending the day making snowmen, my violinist pal Robin and I had an entire, glorious coastline to ourselves as we frolicked with the creatures of low tide. It wasn’t especially cold at the water, but the sky around us told the meteorological story for the rest of Los Angeles.
As we walked back to the Beach Cafe for a late lunch, we looked up and were delighted to see that Tutankhamen and Cheops had finally teamed up and hired a design committee for the California sky. Nice work!
More wind tonight. It began moments ago, swaying the palm trees that are already shivering above my roof. I know it sounds perverse, but I really love this weather. I’m ready for the northwest. But will there be pyramids in the clouds there?
A clip of a piece that’s fun for any bari sax to blow: “Of Wind and Touch.”
I think we’ve had more wind this season than in any other December and January I can recall. It seems as though each week brings another “wind event,” as the meteorologists are fond of calling these dry hurricanes. Birds and debris are launched in erratic circles, and my front yard is a repository for countless tossed palm fronds and mailbox flyers. Indeed, I now realize why they’re called flyers.
Tasks as simple as going outside to put the recycling in the bin become exercises in duck-and-cover techniques with every 50 MPH gust. Planters half my weight lie as fallen soldiers to nature’s invisible cannonballs. I’ve given up trying to keep anything upright.
Of course, being a composer and not a photographer means that you can grasp little or none of this drama via the photo above, snapped in between gusts a few minutes ago from my deck. But really: there are beautiful whitecaps out on the sea today, and the ocean churns and sparkles under a clear, constantly moving sky.
The composer’s later piano music.
Well, cancelled escrows and imposing infernos not withstanding, I’m in a very celebratory mood on this birthday. Yet another completed rotation around the sun, and still minimal signs of wear and tear on the vehicle. Hip, hip, hooray is always better than hip, hip… replacement!
The photo above, from a slightly earlier birthday, shows me hard at work on one of my earlier compositions. You can see it there, strewn recklessly on the floor in a mad fit of “these enharmonics are wrong and the tempo should be faster!”.
I suppose I’ve always been obsessed.
I love this image because it’s so…. me. When I glance at it I’m reminded of what my passion is, and who I am at my core. No, not a great pianist. But….
Music to keep you on edge, too.
Because celebrities are known to live here, it seems that every time a waft of smoke appears over Malibu it makes national news. Well, far beyond waft-ness, for those of us just up the coastline from last night’s sudden inferno, this was indeed a real threat.
My friend and neighbor, the immensely talented writer Veronique de Turenne who can accomplish more with seven words than I can with seventy [and three editors], shot the photo above from our bluff. Click on her link for two reasons: to read about the fire, and to enjoy the many wonderful postings on her aptly named blog, Here in Malibu.
Hearing too many sets of sirens racing down Pacific Coast Highway, I stepped outside and saw smoke billowing ominously over the water. Charles and I stayed put at home, glued to the TV coverage. Post modernism at its weirdest: why watch the event through your own eyes, when you can watch it even more compellingly through a TV screen? Hoping the wild winds we’ve had for days wouldn’t shift north, we agreed that we’d begin packing up the cats and the cars if the fire reached Corral Canyon. I’ve been through this too many times. Embers defy gravity and can fly a mile or more on any rogue gust.
The firefighters did an amazing job creating perimeters to contain the scope of the blaze, and were able to get it under control within three hours. It’s a miracle that the wind didn’t move laterally and cause a catastrophe. Once things calmed down, we had our dinner barefoot outside in this bizarrely hot weather, with an unsettling glow in the sky beyond our toes.
The thing that… uh, fries me (oooh, bad pun), is that given the roadside flash point, the fire could possibly have started by someone flicking a lit cigarette butt out the passenger window as they were heading south on PCH. This is a huge issue for me. One day last year I positively terrified some unsuspecting tourist driver who casually threw a flaming-ember butt out the car window as he headed down the little speed bump-infested road that leads into Paradise Cove. Little did he know what kind of insane maniac was behind him. When he got to the main gate to be buzzed in and rolled down his window, I leapt out of my car and immediately got in his face, shrieking at him about what a thoughtless, dangerous, stupid thing he just did and telling him about the Cove having burned down in the past (ok, well, just the area where my home now stands, but who needs details at a time like this?). His girlfriend in the seat next to him was clearly stunned, and he was polite enough to stutter out an apology. Like the task-mistress I truly am, I sternly thanked him and admonished him to never, ever do that again, anywhere.
Either he’ll remember that moment for all time and be a changed and better citizen, or every time he drives he’ll think of my angry face six inches from his and get lunatic pleasure in lighting up pack after pack only to toss the butts out the window at high speed. Crap shoot, huh?
Exhale, now. We dodged a flaming bullet once again.
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Music that rolls, I think.
Life throws curves and the best we can do is roll along, merrily, if possible. Like these incoming winter tides, I’m rolling with the wave of that which is current, and not giving too much attention to that which is not. As Ram Dass suggested, “Be here now.”
And I am!
…info about the music
This space reserved for YOUR music.
Ok, one more. If I weren’t so busy writing another piece, I’d take the chords below and the scale above and come up with something interesting. But if any of my composerly-inclined readers would like to take a shot at a brief offering that, in their mind at least, reflects these photos, send me an MP3 and I’ll post it!
Kelp as a community-building tool. Gotta love it.