I’m taking off for Minneapolis, a show, a trip to Colorado for a real vacation, then back to Minneapolis for a wedding. I may or may not post thoughts in the meantime. Eleven days.
May the Road Rise Up
I cornered myself into writing a piece for the choir to sing at graduation. I was searching for a certain version of this traditional Irish blessing “May the Road Rise Up to Meet You,” but I couldn’t find one. I then told the choir and the office that we were performing an original version of said blessing. Oops. Now my hands are tied and I have to pull through. No worries, though, I’m used to this kind of situation. When it comes to music, I always say yes. And when it comes to writing, I always say, “Why not? I can do it!”
I spent most of today’s after school time in the choir room going over option after option. My Italian staff book, the one I wrote E’s wedding processional in, is now filled with new ideas that only spur on more new ideas. Clusters and rhythms–that is my theme.
Now, if I can just dream up (literally while I sleep) a fantastic chordal movement for “May God hold you in the palm of his hand,” I’ll be set. Here’s to going to bed energized!
I am singing these words for you.
Come Out
Come out, oh words
buried and struggling for
surface
space
air.
Come out. Stop writhing
upsetting my stomach
heart
mind
peace.
Come out and be spoken.
Come live outside of me.
Come show me what you’re made of.
What you’ve got.
Purposeful?
Powerful?
Emotional?
Harvesting a crop of movement?
Come out, oh words, come out.
I am sick when you rumble within me.
Send me your words
Send me your words
your poor and poorly thought
words
your richly and seasoned
ideas
Send me the morning regret
the afternoon hope
the evening peace
the middle of the night fear
Send me your graphic descriptions
and your tired avoidance
Send me your nonchalance or over-thought,
under-intended, trying-too-hard, not hard enough
letters next to thoughts that make
words.
Send me your half-thoughts and over-grown ones, too.
I’ll put the fragments, the wholes, the colorful, the drab
the old, the new, the over and under-used
back together, rearranged, sensible to me
and send them back to you.
Then, please
send me your words.
April Fool’s Wine
April Fool’s!! I have no post for today except to say that I have not as much Tommolo Montepulciano d’Abruzzo as I did earlier on March 31, 2011. And I feel like I might throw up.
In related news, I might have a post for April 2, 2011 based on the amount of Tommolo Montepulciano d’Abruzzo I drank March 31, 2011 and the fact that I found a beautiful piece of music called The Wolves and The Ravens by Rogue Valley.
At the end of the four album saga of the seasons, this Minneapolis band (Chris Koza) writes, “In the morning by the sea/as the fog clears from the sand/I have no money in my hand/I have no home, I have no land//But it doesn’t trouble me/as I lay beside the fire/I am easy to inspire/there is little I require//I wasn’t yours and you weren’t mine/Though I’ve wished from time to time/we had found a common ground/Your voice was such a welcome sound/How the emptiness would fill/with the waves and with your song/People find where they belong/or keep on//Through the never ending maze/where the way is seldom clear/there is no map or compass near/I drive a ship I cannot steer/through the bleak and early morn/where a stronger will is sworn/where the moments move so slow/and seem to never let you go//When my hands are old and ache/and my memory flickers dim/and my bones don’t hold my skin/there’s no place I haven’t been/I recall the days were few/that is all that I can do/I feel the carvings in the tree/that gives shade for you and me.“
Office Makes A Difference
I finally set up a naphtalia.wordpress office: perfect for late-night posting.
In other news: I have been under the weather since Friday and have had a questionable singing voice. This has resulted in a photo post instead of a song post today. Perhaps I’ll simply finish the year with two songs in a row. That would be like me, wouldn’t it?
Naphtalia 