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13.04.15
woofti aka groovy gravy Started conversation Apr 13, 2015
"My heart longs to give you pleasure"
How lovely is that hey. That's very nice.
Well, I've got a poem on the go, two Studies for solo cello (beginner level) to write, and the three- or four-movement Sonatina for Solo Flute to compose.
Then, a suite of folksongs, possibly Irish, probably Jewish, to write for flute and piano.
Then to think of something bigger. A concertante work for 2 pianos then we think about orchestrating the 2nd piano part, in other words, write the orchestral part in short score, like Prokoviev. Or, do we compose for orchestra, like Shostakovich did? I have attempted orchestral writing before but had to write for the orchestra as the timbres and densities arose in my inner ear.
Truly, I have to auralise the densities.
13.04.15
woofti aka groovy gravy Posted Apr 13, 2015
Tundra is steppe
Step is ladder
ladder
North by Northwest on now.
13.04.15
woofti aka groovy gravy Posted Apr 13, 2015
Glorious things of thee
they said with a hollow
laughter that rattled with
dead men's bones, a tin of
whitewash and a voucher
for a half pound of luncheon meat
and some tinned potatoes
13.04.15
woofti aka groovy gravy Posted Apr 14, 2015
Pourquoi est-ce qu'il pleut dans les terres et dans les oceans qui couvrent les terres du monde cree?
Il pleut parce qu'il est triste dans le coeur du monde et du pere du monde.
Les anges terrestriels essayent a me tenter a croire qu'ils memes sont representants du seul sage Dieu, qui habite l'eternite et qu'il observe les faits varies des hommes avec une ame qui crie, Ne compte point les peches des hommes contre eux, parce qu'ils n'ont connaisse pas le Fils du Pere, ni son Esprit.
Les pauvres d'esprit regardent dans les cieux et croient, et sont satisfaits; les arrogants de la terre regardent, et mangent, et ils ont bu la tasse en son entierete.
Les anges rient. Les nuees pleurent. On dit, C'est la meme chose, tous les jours, dans les places, dans les gares du citadel des hommes.
13.04.15
woofti aka groovy gravy Posted Apr 14, 2015
They drive and goad a man to evoke the wickedness that's in him, then they pounce on that wickedness, that evokes more wickedness, and then they say, You'll wish you hadn't said that, and it spirals out of control until everything falls apart and breaks down, because the centre cannot hold.
Then they expect silence until they are satisfied there will be no more trouble tonight, and they retire - slowly - just to make sure there isn't any more trouble tonight.
And then the rest of the night passes slowly, and then it's time for the sun to rise, and the sky to turn from blue to blue, and the stars go to their beds; and the cars start driving up the Main Road towards Simon's Town, and the sea pounds against the breakwater, and the cemeteries rest a deep rest with flowers, and a boy, crying for his mother.
And it is another day in Cape Town, and we arise to our work with singing, and we travel down roads and the highway, and roads, to our destinations.
13.04.15
woofti aka groovy gravy Posted Apr 14, 2015
This discipline is held in place by the dangling of the honeybadger in front of my eyes to give me a hope, then things go horribly pear shaped, and then of course she is withheld again, and I go on, ploughing the furrow I never wanted to plough, and then, and then, and then.
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13.04.15
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