too much

Not that there is too much happening;
it's just that there is too much to write.

And, what is too personal?
But, in years to come, any information will be of interest (at least to me,) and will carry messages that are more valuable than I can know from this vantage point.

..like the old lyric says:

"And I see
that I can't see
rooted where I stand.

Reaching out my hand
'cross the sea,
reaching out my hand 'cross the sea."

When I wrote that, in 1972, I was referring to the Atlantic ocean, separating me (in England) from my family and friends back in the USA. But, in the current case, it is the sea of time, and I am reaching out into the future.

My cell phone was taken from my desk yesterday.

Therapy yesterday, too - a very good session:
intimacy/commitment issues and entanglements.

This month, I've been having the students listen to Shed A Little Light, by James Taylor, in honor of MLK. They now ask for it - an amazing work, it is!
I've also been having the younger students learn Hey, Dr. Martin Luther King by Brad (Stoller.) It, too, is a great song.

Three private piano students at GNAC this afternoon;
two young children and an adult. I bought an age appropriate beginner's book for the adult.
I hope she likes it.

Recording tonight:
I have a piano part for Open Your Eyes.
I think it will work.
Also, we need to remix, or re-record, Brad's gorgeous acoustic guitar part.
...maybe some organ.
Geoff and Annie will come by to offer some feedback.
I want to play all the stuff for Geoff. And, Annie has heard it all.
Maybe afterwards we'll get a bite.

no time

There is so much to do, all the time.
I seem to have a life.
But, why do I say seem?

Because, when I examine my lfe or myself, the self-reflection process requires a subject and an object, and the perceived self becomes object.

And, then, as I observe myself, the inevitable epistemological divide infiltrates the scene. .

How beautiful it is, that divide - that gaping self-reflection synapse, across which all perception must leap, which renders impossible any absolute knowledge, and gives birth to sentience, to meaning, to play.

When I express thoughts such as these, one might wonder, "Does that guy have a life?"

But, I do.
At least I seem to.
busy, busy, busy.

kumquats, polyseme, and Happy Birthday Sam

I took a drive to the upper west side last night and had some Indian dinner with Ira, Dorel, and Michael Vivian. Afterwards we went back to Dorel's and had licorice tea with her home made kumquat walnut bread. Ira sang old TV jingles impeccably, and we discussed polyseme. Then I drove back to Great Neck in a gentle rain to pick up Evy at Frankie's. We watched some old SNL sketches on TV, then went to sleep.

Today is Sam's birthday.
But, it was also the day of Ben's first birthday party.

And so after a sweet party at Danny and Wendy's - with Sue, Dahlia and Jonathan, Jamie and Rachel and Sasha, Meredith and Stu and Ryan, Evy and Frankie, Myla, Sam and me - I went to out to Wild Ginger for a Birthday dinner for Sam with Myla and Evy and, of course, Sam. He warned us that if anyone sang Happy Birthday, or if a special cake was brought to the table, he would immediately get up and leave. He wasn't kidding, and it was very tempting.

Then, back at Myla's, we played a game of Scrabble, which Sam won (beating Evelyn 221 to 220) after which Sam improvised a deeply passionate and completely nonsensical Cantorial Hymn.

Happy Birthday to my Grandson

Little Ben became One-Year-Old today.
The family met at The House for dinner,
and for a Placenta ceremony which did not occur.

Danny and I planned to bury Ben/Wendy/Danny's Placenta in the front yard. We were unable to do so because the ground was frozen. (The Placenta also was frozen, as it has been in Danny and Wendy's freezer for a year, to where it will now return.)

Around thirty years ago, Myla and I buried our baby Danny's Placenta in the field behind the converted yellow barns owned by George Mullenhower, where we lived in New Paltz, NY. We had it (the Placenta,) in a tupperware container, in the unheated dance-studio area in our spacious loft.

Then, a few nights after the home-birth, we were wakened by the sound of something bumping and banging in there. I, with some trepidation, went in, took the container outside, and buried the holy shedded Placenta.

The ground was not as frozen those days.

Danny and Iwill try again with Ben's Placenta in a few days, when the temperature rises.

Ben is a happy and beautiful baby boy.
How lucky we are.
Happy Birthday little boy.

Sam is home

he was jumping for joy in the street with a pizza.

organizing

despite the seeming triviality of it, I am practically in awe of the power of organization. Is it an expression of the masculine energy in me resonating with masculine factors of the cosmos?

all nature organizes
energy is maximized
and eloquence is born

the breakdown of natural organization
is disease

natural order is organic
these are the same words

and so today, I organized my papers and messes of lessons at work.
I organized my payments, and debts, and documents at home.

I am ready for the New Year.
Bring it on.

A new day.

I have decided - dare I say it? - to blog everyday.

A really great Christmas break this year...
I am a fortunate man with good friends, beautiful family, and many satifying involvments.
Thank you, thank, you, thank you...
But, who, exactly, am I thanking?

This year, the daily blog will be part art, part diary, part therapy,
and, hopefully, very funny - a story a day.
After all, what good is a day, if there is no story in it?

Last night, on New Years Eve, after a very nice Birthday celebration for my sister Ilene out on the Island, an Officer of the Law interrupted my making an illegal U-Turn under the LIE/ Community Drive Underpass (the nerve of him!)

It was 1:46 AM. I was driving Evelyn, and her friends, Ariel, and Jenna, back to their respective homes. Annie was squeezed in the back seat with them, and Brad was in the front passenger's seat - I was driving him home to Manhattan afterwards.

The cop shone his light into my eyes right in the middle of my elegant navigations, and with a comical gesture, including an extended arm and hand flourish, he eloquently, but silently, expressed the sentiment, "What the f--k are you doing?" I answered comprehensively, and earnestly:

" Hello Sir. I wanted to turn onto Lakeville Road, but accidently turned onto Community Drive - and I'm trying to get these girls home. And so, I thought I'd just pull a little 'louie.' Is that okay?"

He quicky responded, "It makes no sense!"

He was wrong on that point.
While my U-Turn was indeed completely illegal, it also made perfect sense -as a harmless solution to my initial wrong turn. While I was carefully pondering whether or not to enter into that sort of discussion with the young guy, he asked:

"Have you been drinking?"

Through the course of the party (@3 1/2 hours) I had had one Vodka with Tonic, and one straight Vodka on the rocks, but felt quite sober - and was confident of my state. I told the Officer, "I'm fine!" He immediate replied/threatened:

"Do you want me to test you?"

I immediately replied/took the challenge:

"Sure, you can test me!"

Following a poignent pause, he says, with an authoritative lilt:
"Never do that again!" And he closed his window, and drove away.

And, I won't.
We drove off, laughing in relief and triumph.

After driving the girls home, but before dropping Brad off, Annie, Brad, and I made a brief stop at the Midnight Express Diner on Second Ave for the Best New Years Eve Egg Creams ever drunk (two Chocolate, and one Vanilla.)