April 26, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 26, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

Naturally, I reflect regularly, and now in Lockdown mode, I resonate with great intensity.   I do have a regular schedule at home.  I wake up around 6:30 in the morning, when the dawn is breaking. I have become sensitive to the natural sunrise and sundown, which seems to be changing much faster lately.  When I read my calendar for something that was last week, it seems a lifetime away, yet in the present, the day goes quickly.

I'm fortunate to have a job.  I may be one of the few individuals on this planet that got a job during the Trump Virus lockdown.  I'm co-writing a film script for a French producer/art dealer, and the work keeps me occupied and not always think about the dangerous situation that we are all in at the moment.  When I do focus on the outside world (meaning outside my home), I shutter.  Still, getting food through Instacart, although expensive, is pretty consistent now, compared to a few weeks ago, where one wasn't sure if they can get food delivered to one's home.  My wife and I pretty much stay indoors, except recently I do go in the backyard and sit in the shade to read.  It's hard to believe that a week ago, it was chilly, but now it is in the 90s, and one wonders how is that even possible?

President Virus puts me in a rage, and I hate the fact that I hate him so much.  I don't have a gun, and the reason why I don't have a weapon is that if I see him walking down the street, I will shoot him.  That is not a good position in life.  Nor healthy.  So, I focus on my work.   I do keep myself informed on what's happening politically, as well as any current information regarding the Trump Virus.

Being in a lockup for me is not that difficult.  I do miss the social interactions of seeing people, even the occasional chit-chat with a Lyft driver, but what I miss the most are libraries, books, and record stores.  I tend to go to shops not only to purchase a book or music but also to unload my mind for an hour or so, by just looking at a bookshelf or record store racks.  Time-to-time I like making the noise at 8 pm, but after two or more weeks of that, it is becoming a chore.  Still, this is nothing compared to the people who are working now in saving lives, serving food either in stores or restaurants, and drivers who are still maintaining bus schedules and Lyft drivers.  I'm not here to complain but to enjoy life.  - Tosh Berman

The Sunday Series: Sunday April 26, 2015

Sunday April 26, 2015

"Reed Steams" by Terry Riley

I just wanted to travel as far as I can, but without luggage or even a toothbrush.  It is one of the key reasons why I love music so much, because it takes me far, yet, I can travel lightly.   I woke up in the afternoon hearing a female voice saying "wake-up Tosh."  She said it only once, and it was a voice that I wasn't familiar with.  I tried to imagine the voice of the body, and my educated guess (because I have been around the block, if you get my drift) is that she is a beauty.  Alas, she did not exist and perhaps she never did.  Yet, I did what the voice said, and I was lifted from the living room couch to wander the inner world of yours truly. 

Today being Sunday, I downloaded an album by Terry Riley called "Reed Steams."  It's early work and recordings by the so-called minimalist, which personally I find that term very short-sighted.   Riley to me strikes me as a maximalist.  I hear everything in the world within the grooves of his music.  There is a piece here called "In C (Mantra) that reminds me very much of the Rolling Stones "Sing This All Together."   Only in parts, and I actually think the Stones came first - but this is not a rip-off, but merely a reflection of one's other work.   Compared to other Riley works, this is very much a 'rock' piece.  It builds and builds, and I suspect that the method is by Riley, using tape machines, looping instruments as they play.  So in that sense, he's Eno before Eno was doing this type of work.  On one level it sounds like a jam, but the fact is there is something compositional about the work.  I think the more you listen to this piece, the more melodies one gets.  Textured like a multi-layered cake, each taste brings a new sensation or flavor.  It's a wonderful way to wake-up in the late afternoon -surely the woman who awakened me was thinking of this specific recording. 

The only frustration I have with this album is that I downloaded it from I-Tunes.  What I miss is the liner notes, the packaging from Tom Recchion, and as an object to hold.  I do not think that this music was ever released on vinyl, only CD. Nevertheless I can play it anytime I want to - but I believe that it is the property of Apple computer and their side-business, I-Tunes.  There are so many ways to listen to music these days, but the best is when it is on vinyl, and you have to force yourself to get up and turn the record over.  That is a part of the process of listening to music.  I-tunes, streaming - that is art without any effort - and it seems that our culture is very much doing serious stuff without effort.

  Drone bombings are a perfect example of doing war, but not being involved.  The Vietnam war and before, one had to take part in the battle or war.  You couldn't really ignore it, due to the issue of getting drafted.  Now that the draft is gone, the army is basically either poor people, or those who are waiting to obtain a green card.  Then the government hires thugs to handle security for the troops and so forth.  At the moment, we have been in a state of war since 9/11, and yet, as citizens we really don't have to worry about being in battle.  We are authorized to fear the threat of being attacked, but in most cases, it is what it is - fear. 

So I approached the music of Terry Riley with a certain amount of fear - perhaps being bored, or wasting my precious time.   Once you get past that fear of not understanding or boredom, your brain really opens up to something new and wonderful.  Terry Riley is such a force, where I now feel kind of bad that I haven't paid serious attention to his work.  I know some of his later recordings - "In C" and so forth, but totally missed out on his early works

"Untitled Organ" has no beginning, no middle and no end.  The recording of this piece is about 20 minutes.  On the other hand, there are shifts, which remind me of two people having a long conversation, where the other is listening to the other participant.  The tempo accelerates, as if one is getting emotional. Then a second voice kicks in, as the other sort of drifts off in an echo.  At times, I forget that this is an organ.  It also sounds like a saxophone.  The sensitivity of the different pitches brings out a unique sound.  The intensity of this piece never wavers. 

"Reed Streams" is an organ and saxophone.   Or is it just saxophone?   The beauty of all three piece on this album is where one sense of reality disappears into something quite different.   For 15 minutes, "Reed Streams" throws me into a timeless state of mind, and I can almost imagine the "girl" coming back to me.  Alas, it was only a dream, but I dream with a certain amount of passion and hopefully, with skill as well. 

April 26, 2014

April 26, 2014

I woke up this morning with a thought “don’t think but look!”  It startled me at first, but as I slowly gained conscious  by focusing my gaze towards the bedroom window, which at times, and really depends on the time of the day, and if there is sunshine, looks like the painting by Eugène Delacroix, specifically his “Basket of Flowers.” I drained every thought from my head and just focused on the flowers that are on the window sill.  Even if I have an appointment in the morning, I always take my time in stepping out of bed.  I don’t even stretch, or make a noise, but just noticing the flowers and how that petals react to the breeze or wind outside.  Also I have a large tree outside the window, which also causes a distinctive degree of lighting that makes shadows against the ceiling, as I lay on my back.  It is just my version of going to the cinema, but without the narration nonsense.

By my bedside I have a 1950s era Califone 42V, Promenade II direct drive portable turntable and I only play one album on this, and that is a recording by Ma Rainy, the mother of the blues.  In the 20s, she made over 100 recordings, which for me, define that era.  Some feel the blues or jazz is only good for evening life, but I totally disagree with that theory.   The ability to kick life at its shin, is a good way to begin the day.  I prepare breakfast, and rarely do I change the food or procedure.  I only like to eat English muffins with peanut butter from Whole Foods Markert and sugarless jam of assorted flavors.  I tend to have at the very least, ten different jars of jam in my 1950 Frigidaire refrigerator.   I like to sit in the kitchen on a stool by a portable card table, facing the window above the sink.  Due to the building across the way, I don’t get direct sunlight in the kitchen, but that’s perfectly OK with me.  I only like the sunlight in my bedroom.

I only take baths, and never a shower.  What I like to do is sponged my body before I enter the bathtub.  The water has to be the correct temperature of 101 F or 38 C, considering that the average body temp of a man is 98.6 F. Once I put in a few drops of avocado oil in the water, I step in.  This is where I either do my meditation, besides my mental bedroom window procedure, or read a book.  What I strongly recommend is “Culture and Value” by Ludwig Wittgenstein (translated by Peter Winch).  It’s a fantastic collection of remarks that are beautifully written.   One quote that comes to mind is “I never more than half succeed in expressing what I want to express.  Actually not as much as that, but by no more than a tenth.  That is still worth something.  Often my writing is nothing but ‘stuttering.’ “ I often reflect on what he is saying here. Well, only in the bathtub. Nevertheless I often feel that my thoughts are not possible to express verbally, and often I find this frustrating.  I spent a great deal of time in front of a blank notebook, just trying to fill the blank pages with thoughts that can’t be expressed on a page.

I don’t read French and I have never read A. E. van Vogt, but I do have a copy of his novel “Le Monde des Å” (The World of Null-A) in French, which is translated by Boris Vian.   Me, being such a hardcore Vian fan, I needed to not only own the book, but I often try to read it, even though I can’t even pronounce French words.  But I like the thought of reading this book in French.   I have heard that the French sub-culture youth group Zazous, used to carry English language books to look more cosmopolitan, and that is something that I totally concur with.  Not only that, but I feel text can be not only read, but also felt in an emotional sense or even on another dimension.   When you get down to it, I only want to face the world in my ability to see what I want to look at, but also, and if possible, through vocabulary.