Tuesday, February 09, 2010


Composing is a very lonely job. You don't talk to anyone for fear the wispy sounds you have in your head get blown away. 

It is kind of like the story of Pygmalion. You have a block of marble, it is smooth and promising, and you know the girl of your dreams might be inside. You chisel away gently, but don't know if you are smoothing her thighs or putting a metal point through her heart.

You check your tools and maybe buy a new set. Are the old ones too rough? Maybe rough tools are better for her. 

You have revealed her outlines and know there are some very pretty parts of her, but will she come to life or lie there cold and inert when it comes time to push her out of the studio into the warm sun?

I am ready to push her out very soon, whether she is ready or not. I know she is not perfect, but I am not sure I will make her more beautiful by fussing with her accessories.

I hope the people I have not spoken to for weeks now will remember who I am, that they will forgive my silence.

And that they and the performers and the audience will be gentle with her. March 21.

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