Hello! A Correction. Goodnight!

First, sorry for the lack of posts. I know that my silence has been killing you. How can you do anything without my commentary on California Abstract Expressionism? But I knew you could manage. Otherwise I wouldn't have left you in the dark.

Anyway, busy weekend. Lots of cooking and driving and seeing the Violent Femmes at the Black and White Ball and trying desperately to leave before the Village People came on (as we were walking to BART we could hear "YMCA", and it sounded just as bad as it does on record), two masses, confession, some more cooking, running into a friend at the pizza parlor.... it goes on and on and on.

I should really be in bed right now, but you know how it is. After a busy weekend, there is something absolutely glorious about the silence and solitude of being the only one awake in the house. No talking. No demanding another glass of water. Just the hum of the icebox, the clicking of the keyboard, and the nagging realization that I will be awake in six hours with a lot of stuff to do.

Fantastic. Sure, I could get to sleep, but the weather is perfect, and the house is mine. Once in a while I hear a slight stirring from one of the bedrooms, but otherwise it is just me and the sounds of mechanical things. My own Private Antheil.

I like the sounds of night, whether in the country or the city. They are mostly the sounds of the day, barring nocturnal insects, but they are stripped of many of the other sounds of the day, so you really get to hear them (that is, after you ears stop ringing from the Violent Femmes show), without distraction.

The icebox just stopped. Now I realize that a clock is ticking in the other room. The wonderful thing about silence is how elusive it is. When one sound stops you hear another sound that you realize was going on all along.

Anyway, enough of this stuff, because it gets me to thinking about John Cage, and then I might have to pull out Fontana Mix and Melanie would wake up and ask, "what is that noise you are listening to?" Then I give a long-winded and wild-eyed explanation, and she thinks I have finally lost IT, whatever IT is, and whether or not I had actually had IT to begin with.

Let me Crazy!

An idea I had while walking through Chinatown: what if I were to speak only in Janglish, the strangely nonsensical English phrases that pop up on Asian consumer goods to give the user a certain image of Anglophonism? Maybe I could rename the blog with one of those great Chinese-sounding brand names: Happy Longevity and Prosperity!

But it won't happen. I am far too western.

Erik's House of Teutonic Pondering. Ah, much better.

Alright, the correction. I was reading the post on coffee beans and realized that something looked amiss. The coffee beans are arabica, of course. I have no idea where aribica came from. Perhaps I will have to ask the Sheik of Aribee.

Sorry. You might want to reread that with the correct spelling in mind. Or not. It is your life, spend it wisely.

I kwow not what course others may take, but as for me: give me bed. Good night.

Posted by erik at June 13, 2005 12:39 AM | TrackBack