Meanwhile, on the battlefield

We have been at war1 for a few years now, but this latest battle over the local food supply2 has me a bit vexed.  Concern for the civilian population3 has taken chemical warfare4 off the table. I am left attempting to block5 points of entry6, but the insurgents7 are more adept at finding breeches in the perimeter than I am.  Once I block one fracture, they find another before long.

Their numbers are subsiding, finally8; I hope the end is in sight.

Continue reading

Surrogate Hat

I miss Hat.

Hat is a black fuzzy newsboy-style cap that was hand-made, which I purchased at a music festival several years ago. I wore it more often than not.  I am so fond of it that it has earned proper noun status.

When I moved from Sacramento to Oakland, Hat accidentally got packed.  See, I was sick, and the movers had been hired to do the packing as well as the moving, and I forgot to take it away from the things they were packing so that I could wear it.

Once I was moved, I did some unpacking.  I unpacked all of the wardrobe boxes that had been brought to the house. Hat was not in them. I did a cursory glance at the contents of the other boxes that had been brought to the house that I didn’t need to unpack right away. Hat was not in them. I gradually worked my way through all of the wardrobe boxes that had been taken to storage. Hat was not in them.

There are still boxes in storage I can check, but at his point I have no idea at all which one might contain Hat and the other things that had been hanging from my bedroom door.

I have other hats, of course, but while they do look good on my head, I’ve never felt like they suited me quite the same way. Also, most of them are wherever Hat is. I can currently only locate two fedoras, the warm hats that were purchased after I moved, and two of my Burning Man hats.*

Finally, after much searching (of the sort where I would pass by a hat display on my way to buying something else and would stop and look through the offerings), I located a hat a few weeks ago that will serve as an acceptable surrogate until I can once again be reunited with Hat.

Surrogate Hat

* I may own a lot of hats.

Midnight Eyes

It’s 2am.

You’re asleep, having one of those dreams where everything is real except for the fact that none of it exists in the waking world.

A sudden weight on your chest wakes you up.

Groggily confused, you open your eyes.

Good luck getting back to sleep.

Not Art: News Update

Yes, the blog has been quiet.

I started work in a new position within my company recently and have had to move to a different city to do it.  I am still in the process of getting my stuff moved over (I have moved in with friends, so have been “roughing it” with little more than my clothes, and only two hats), and haven’t really had any time to think about this blog or much else other than working and moving.

Never fear, the blog will return once I have everything settled in, hopefully with at least as much regularity as I’d had before.

Ivan is very busy

When I was a youngling, I took piano lessons, like many young middle-class children do.  For the most part I kludged through the assigned material, learning it as well as I could to make it through the song mostly without error.  We had a few other books of piano music outside of the assigned material, which I would occasionally stumble through and mostly not bother with.

There was one piece I was once assigned, however, by a composer I’d not heard of otherwise, that made me take notice.  That song was called “Ivan Sings,” composed by Aram Khachaturian.  It was part of a collection of eight compositions for students called Adventures of Ivan.  I found a copy at our local music store* one day, and insisted my mother buy it for me.**  I actually managed to learn all but the last of the compositions with some amount of proficiency.

Things happened. I moved away from home and mostly played bass instead of piano, and largely forgot about Ivan and his Adventures.

This past November, we assembled at my mother’s residence for a holiday celebration, and my sister brought with her a bundle of our old piano books.  In it was Adventures of Ivan.  As I have recently taken an interest in practicing keyboards again, I insisted that I take it home with me, given that it was mine, after all. I promised my sister I would replace her copy (which I did, by the way).***

I can still play most of the way through it relatively well, though I’m a bit rusty.  All but the last song, anyway.

* Not to be confused with “record store”
** To be fair, a $5 book of sheet music is a much easier sell than some random toy or something.
*** By the way, Vriana, was it “A Tale of Strange Lands” that was missing from your copy? I only just now remembered I still haven’t got you a copy of the missing song, while I was writing all this down.