music, books, memory

Yesterday, in the morning, after I had my coffee and read the NYTIMES online and checked the blogs of my "regulars" I worked on FIELD MUSIC: ASHES, which is a piece that I had hoped to finish by the fall. I have written about three minutes of music and am now trying to come up with a solution to the question: how is this piece going to go on? Frustration. I give up, and, with my head pounding, decide to sleep. I sleep for an hour and half, with my cat Tuna pressed against my side. His gentle purring lulls me to sleep. When I wake up my head still hurts. I take care of some things around the apartment and then go out to meet B. for dinner. I stop at Saint Marks Books to buy him THE BOOK OF SALT. I also bought Sontag's ILLNESS AS METAPHOR and AIDS AND ITS METAPHORS which I started to read in a cafe while I waited for B. When we sat down at the restaurant I gave him the book, but he already had bought it; I am glad he has it, because it is such a beautiful book. Thanks for dinner, B. I had a good time and the ice cream was awesome. On the subway going home I listened to "A Dream Goes On Forever," an old song by Todd Rundgren. It made me cry some, and as I was walking up Pierrepont Street in a slow rain, I sang along out loud while slow tears dripped from my eyes. Now, this morning, the sun is shining, which makes me happy.

Here is a picture of my mother. I have posted it before, a while back, but it is my favorite picture of her and it brings me happy memories; it was from my early childhood, before things turned.