tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30943251383316003122024-02-22T11:35:58.452-08:00Through Dooms of LoveThe Poet boards the rocket ship called LOVE. The Navigator's name is FREEDOM. The Destination is ETERNITY.Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.comBlogger278125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-39333616874512434092017-12-31T19:16:00.000-08:002017-12-31T19:16:39.781-08:00Visible and Invisible<span style="font-size: large;">After celebrating Latin mass tonight (Saturday), I found myself at a
retirement party at Max's Opera Cafe. While the combo (piano, vocals,
clarinet, flute, double bass, sax) covered tunes from the American
songbook, a plaque was presented, wine was poured, edibles were offered,
conviviality flowed. Someone asked a priest, who is also a
mathematician, what the two vocations have in common. "Both" he replied,
"make the invisible visible." (27.V.17)</span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-35000488686070900412017-12-31T19:13:00.000-08:002017-12-31T19:13:24.444-08:00Agave Baroque<span style="font-size: large;">After high mass this morning, and a visit to the Asian Arts Museum this
afternoon to look at the Tomb Treasures exhibition, I returned to church
for a performance by Agave Baroque, to hear music of Heinrich Biber and
others. Biber (said the program) "invented numerous new tunings for his
violin, to achieve extended techniques, special tone colors, and
'artificial harmonies.'" The stunning virtuosity and chatty
introductions of the lead violinist, Aaron Westman, brought Biber's
technique to life --- "baroque heavy metal!" said Aaron, twice. The
continuo players (box organ, theorbo, baroque guitar, viola da gamba)
were no shrinking violets either. During one tuneup, a car alarm
sounded, giving the organist and viol player a chance to riff off the
chord. The organ, by the way, has a name: "Mister Toots!" (21.V.17)</span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-15336742487323352602017-12-31T19:04:00.003-08:002017-12-31T19:04:55.762-08:00Dr Pangloss<span style="font-size: large;">I was charmed to hear this afternoon that I express a certain
"Panglossian naivete." No one has applied the adjective "Panglossian" to
me before. (14.V.17)</span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-14545910527613653652017-12-31T19:02:00.000-08:002017-12-31T19:02:28.321-08:00Soapbox Racer<span style="font-size: large;">The neighborhood motorcycle shop has closed. It opened a few years ago
in a space formerly occupied by a typewriter repair shop. At the time,
prominently displayed in the front window was a soapbox racer, which
remained visible for a few months, then vanished into the recesses of
the shop, to be followed by a succession of motorcycles, including an
electric. In the past few weeks, the motorcycles went away one by one,
and the racer reappeared, alone in an otherwise empty shop. Now it has
gone too. So long and Godspeed. I like to think that there's a kid
somewhere who will ride it to a victory or two, or more. (10.V.17)</span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-24849977209278588492017-12-31T18:58:00.002-08:002017-12-31T18:58:47.375-08:00Stravinsky and Purcell<span style="font-size: large;">Friday evening past, and Sunday afternoon, I took myself to the
Conservatory for their final opera performances of the season,
Stravinsky's 'Mavra', and Purcell's 'Dido and Aeneas'. I had not known
about 'Mavra', a charming, short (25 minutes) comedy, complete with a
hulking soldier character, Vasilli, whose quick change into drag as
Mavra, as demure and 'feminine' a housemaid as one could imagine, he
accomplished with skill, aplomb, and panache. He carried the piece. The
unu<span class="text_exposed_show">sual arrangement, for double bass, piano, French horn, clarinet, and bassoon, supported the comic mood.</span></span><br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-size: large;">
But unalloyed joy cannot last. On to 'Dido and Aeneas', which began in
love and ended in suicide. (Why are operatic characters thwarted in
love, women usually, expected to die tragically?). An impressive
production, with a simple set and modern dress; the chorus went from
business suits to jacketless casual to sailor shirts and back to jackets
with great efficiency, when they weren't singing or rearranging the
furniture. The singers were splendid of course, and the baroque
orchestra equally so. Dido sang her Lament with great feeling. A good
time was had by all. (2.V.17)</span></div>
Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-57595128496260696022017-12-31T18:52:00.003-08:002017-12-31T18:52:56.005-08:00Dispatched<span style="font-size: large;">I'm amused to hear, tonight, that a character named "Alex Martin" has
been, um, dispatched, as it were, in a Doctor Blake mystery. (24.IV.17)</span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-11289198162531003282017-12-31T18:49:00.002-08:002017-12-31T18:49:59.022-08:00Suor Angelica<span style="font-size: large;">Tuesday past, a friend and I were in Cafe Creme at the Conservatory,
when a nun made her way to the counter. After consideration of the
likelihood that a nun would be in the Conservatory at all, never mind
the Cafe, it dawned on us that the "nun" was a singer in a dress
rehearsal of Puccini's 'Suor Angelica'. Also on the bill was Massenet's
'Le Portrait de Manon.' At the performances tonight, the singing and
playing were splendid.The cultural assumptions underlying these pi</span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-size: large;">eces
are outmoded, of course, but did not detract from the performances.
Love across a class barrier is somewhat easier than it was, perhaps, and
nowadays no one would expect a nun to commit suicide because she had
had a child years before. The most important thing about the Puccini is
that all the characters are women; one would like the attitude toward
feminine emotional life to be more positive. (7.IV.17)</span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-10190318240977935202017-12-31T18:46:00.002-08:002017-12-31T18:46:22.162-08:00Bad Advice<span style="font-size: large;">A beggar on Upper Market this afternoon offered "Bad Advice --- Only $3" (2.IV.17)</span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-75648957727940275462017-07-03T18:21:00.003-07:002017-07-03T18:21:52.090-07:00Rainbow<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> While I waited for a bus at Stonestown late
this afternoon in a light rain, a rainbow appeared against the clouds in
the eastern sky. A rainbow is a rare sight in The City, a joy really,
and many people remarked on it. I thought of the opening to Owen
Barfield's book 'Saving the Appearances': </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Look at a rainbow.
While it lasts, it is, or appears to be, a great arc of many colours
occupying a position out there in space. It touches the horizon between
that chimney and that tr<span class="text_exposed_show">ee; a line drawn
from the sun behind you and passing through your head would pierce the
centre of the circle of which it is part. And now, before it fades,
recollect all you have ever been told about the rainbow and its causes,
and ask yourself the question: Is it really there?" </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-size: large;">
The full quote is too long to include here. It begins a discussion of
reality and representation and much more. Yesterday I asked a friend (a
Platonist and mathematician) why the world is thought to be an imperfect
copy of a Platonic Idea. How can a rainbow be imperfect? (26.III.17)</span></div>
Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-74812881202343361022017-07-03T18:18:00.000-07:002017-07-03T18:18:40.871-07:00Play today<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>This evening (Monday), by chance or by
Providence, half a block from the Conservatory, I encountered JR on his way to hear a guitar department recital. I had some dull
plan for the evening which included grocery shopping. J said, "Why
play tomorrow when we can play today?" I adapted to the new situation,
and went to hear the music. A few composers were new to me, some music
(by Charlie Chaplin and Britney Spears) was unexpected, and the final
ensemble (of all ten players) was an impressive surprise. A good time
was had by all. (6.III.17)</span></span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-35874730859633228802017-07-03T18:14:00.002-07:002017-07-03T18:35:42.508-07:00Kiss of Peace<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This afternoon at the supermarket, I encountered
the young cashier whom I spoke to three months ago (see November 13, 2016). He had electric blue hair then; today he sported green hair. We gave each other an
urban arm wrestler handshake and a brief hug --- a secular Kiss of
Peace. (19.II.17)</span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-62496836715230390022017-07-03T18:12:00.000-07:002017-07-03T18:12:08.717-07:00Haida Gwaii<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I learned a few hours ago (from television) that
the Queen Charlotte Islands, off the north coast of British Columbia,
are now called Haida Gwaii, 'Islands of the People'. In 1974, my
father's ashes were scattered at sea off the islands. He had been a
sailor on Canadian Pacific ships when he was young, and had said that
the currents would carry his ashes around the Pacific and beyond. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"><span><span>When
I was a teenager, I went with my father to the Maritime Museum in
Vancouver, to look at a large model of the ship he had sailed on, either
the Empress of India or the Empress of China --- I don't remember
which. He showed me the porthole on a (ver</span></span><span><span><span>y)
lower deck, where his berth was. He always regretted that the Great
Depression permanently interrupted his training to be an officer in the
Merchant Marine. But I have often thought that had he become an officer,
he would have been sailing on troop ships and the like during the World
War, and might have gone down on one of the many ships that were sunk. (2.II.17)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-55124809979734041812017-07-03T18:04:00.000-07:002017-07-03T18:04:08.569-07:00The Entertainer<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>At my usual cafe this afternoon, someone ventured
to play the baby grand. She began with a chunk of the Moonlight Sonata,
continued with other fragments of the Classical Hit Parade, and wrapped
up with Scott Joplin's 'The Entertainer.'. A good time was had by all. (12.I.17)</span></span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-34033812424232390492017-07-03T18:00:00.003-07:002017-07-03T18:00:54.671-07:00Turn of the Screw<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>This afternoon I took myself to the
Conservatory, for a performance of Benjamin Britten's opera 'The Turn of
the Screw.' I had not seen or heard this work before. The house was
full; there were few desertions at the interval. The singers and players
carried it off splendidly. I was very interested to hear the 12-tone
"screw" motive twist through the piece. All in all, an engaging and
challenging work. (11.XII.16)</span></span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-86023285265026924742017-07-03T17:49:00.000-07:002017-07-03T17:49:01.149-07:00Piano pieces<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Tonight, I took myself to the
Conservatory to hear Sarah Cahill (well-known local musician and radio
presenter) and others perform works by Ruth Crawford, Henry Cowell, Lou
Harrison, Frederic Rzewski (new to me) George Lewis (also new to me) and
Terry Riley. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The least interesting piece was Cowell's,
pleasant, conventional, forgettable. The Crawford Preludes were short
and bracing. Lou Harrison's piece ('Varied Trio') was very Lou Harrison:
interesting, engaging; ins<span class="text_exposed_show">truments included tuned rice bowls, baking pans, and a gong!</span></span></span><br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
The three remaining works were for piano solo, demanding but not
overbearing, involving, tuneful even. The Riley rag 'Be Kind to One
Another' was delightful, and, according to Sarah, is a favorite of
Riley's grandchildren! And the exhortation is pertinent, at this bizarre
moment in American political life. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Sarah played an encore, a minimalist piece by the Canadian Ann Southam. It surprised me that Southam would be known here. (15.XI.16)</span></span></div>
Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-1791453820684898802017-07-03T17:43:00.000-07:002017-07-03T17:43:45.930-07:00Blue Hair<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>The young cashier at the supermarket this
afternoon was adorned with very electric blue hair. "Love your hair,
man!" I said; "beautiful!" He looked pleased and self-conscious at the
same time. "You have anything exciting planned this afternoon?" he
asked. "Shopping, work," I said; "I'm rather dull!" "C'mon," he replied;
"you look like a fun guy!" Indeed. (13.XI.16)</span></span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-69013819055245276122017-07-03T17:40:00.002-07:002017-07-03T17:40:41.183-07:0070<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Today, I'm 70, the Biblical age, as the Psalmist
says, "The days of our years are three-score and ten..." I recall Miss
Marple's remark in 'A Murder Is Announced': "We are allocated
three-score years and ten, and I shall soon be overdrawn!" (7.XI.16)</span></span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-1444997071169992052017-07-03T17:39:00.000-07:002017-07-03T17:39:26.097-07:00Pumpkins<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>This afternoon at The Cove on Castro, I watched a
slide show, on one of the screens, of carved pumpkins, sophisticated
creations far beyond the simple versions common in my boyhood. And the
costumes on display, inside the restaurant and out, added to the effect.
Years ago, someone asked me to describe San Francisco in one word.
"Hallowe'en!" I replied.(30.X.16)</span></span></span><br />
<br />
Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-31222775423142910122017-07-03T17:36:00.000-07:002017-07-03T17:36:03.875-07:00Pre-Hallowe'en<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>This evening in The Castro I observed a young
man, apparently anticipating Hallowe'en, dressed as a pope, complete in a
white cassock and white cope, carrying a thurible and wearing a triple
tiara. He liberally blessed and censed everyone who crossed his path. (22.X.16)</span></span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-48306247829356907062016-10-21T21:06:00.000-07:002016-10-21T21:24:05.220-07:00Joy <span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Recently, </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I took myself to the Legion of Honor, to look at an exhibition of paintings by the Brothers Le Nain. At the round pool, near the entrance, a dozen or so birds, which I took to be grackles or starlings, were skimming the water, glancing the surface for a second or two, stirring up the water with their wings and tail feathers, creating bursts of spray. The birds, which are non-aquatic as far as I know, made many such passes over the water. Whether these flights were play or hygiene, I could not tell, but they made a joy-filled beginning to my visit. (20.x.16).</span></span>Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-88601536813323186732016-09-04T00:53:00.000-07:002016-09-04T00:53:04.522-07:00Apple Pie<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Outside a local bakery/café (appropriately named 'Butter Love Bakeshop'), a sign quotes Jane Austen: “Good apple pies are a considerable part of our domestic happiness.” (1.IX.16)</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-44903953302406752662016-09-04T00:51:00.001-07:002016-09-04T00:51:33.569-07:00Addiction<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">A young beggar near Castro Station carried a sign which read, "Addicted to food. Experiencing withdrawal." (28.VIII.16)</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-55631574357705472832016-09-04T00:49:00.000-07:002016-09-04T00:49:12.574-07:00Muffin<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">A notice outside a bakery reads, "You are what you eat --- might as well be a muffin!" (4.VIII.16)</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-80529478016627867502016-09-04T00:47:00.001-07:002016-09-04T00:47:12.768-07:00Jargon<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Just heard a new word on the radio: dejargonize! (19.VII.16)</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094325138331600312.post-20202442718853610212016-09-04T00:44:00.001-07:002016-09-04T00:44:42.589-07:00Salvador Dali<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Channel surfing tonight (7.VII.16), I came upon Dick Cavett's 1970 interview with Salvador Dali. SD spoke, not quite coherently, in a mix of English ("with a Catalan accent" he said), French, Catalan, and Spanish. He was dressed to match. SD pronounced himself to be a passionate royalist, looking forward to Prince Juan Carlos's ascent to the Spanish throne (which came to pass in 1975). He consistently referred to himself ("Dali") in the third person. SD presented, and talked about, half-a-dozen pieces, including one which he made on the spot, a broadsheet-size charcoal drawing for Dick Cavett, who had asked for an autograph.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Alexander Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13625936737628794291noreply@blogger.com0