A Composer's Journal Entries: November 6-10, 2005 by classical composer Laurie Conrad.
A Composer’s Journal Entries November 6-10, 2005
Sunday, November 6 Windgarth 3:30 p.m.
In the 70's. My mother & Ed are here for a few days. The colours of the lake changing from blues to greens to grey. Some whitecaps further out. Scattered winds & distant thunder as the day wears on. Planted hundreds of tulips and other bulbs; some red Emperors near Cindy’s heart, a few Dutch iris in a small clump. Larry came over & we stood on the beach & cried together. The first anniversary of Cindy’s car accident is next week. Ester came over carrying a big, empty ceramic bowl, she was returning it to a neighbor; I gave her some tulip bulbs for her garden. She might join us after dinner. JF called, she will try to stop by.
9 p.m.
JF arrived before dinner & brought a violent storm with her. The world suddenly dark & menacing; lightning, close to 60 mph winds. The eerie sound of hail hitting the roof & windows; worried about the trees. Leaves traveling from lawn to lawn, not knowing where to go or why; the sky & lake & hills indistinguishable. Lightning finding the lake in thin, crooked strands, the locust trees briefly silhouetted against the sudden glare. JF eating crumb cake, talking with mother & Ed as the lights flickered and went out in the gale. Brought candles from the basement. Afterwards two sets of double rainbows, across the lake, entering the hills. M. & I walked down to the dock; I held the umbrella as she took some photographs, before the rainbows dissolved back into the sky.
Monday, November 7 Windgarth
Went out to Larry’s dock; sunny, in the high 60's. A small sun at my feet, in the water below. Calm, beautiful. I thought of Tamsyn & Stephanie; fed the gulls some stale bread & watched them soar & glide in the wind, circling. When the bread was gone, they sat on the lake looking at me & I inwardly spoke to them of God. Then I meditated in the sun and light breeze & was filled with an unusual peace; a peace difficult to express, as though I had disappeared into a calm nothingness, emptiness. Or into the wind or very calm water. The gulls were still watching me when the meditation ended. Larry wants to go into town at noon, so I still must pack up our things & close up the house.
This week, if I am feeling better, I will send the Elegie score & other chamber works to Tabula Rasa. Begin to copy out Movement II of the choir and string orchestra piece and when that is done, revise the Piano Quintet. If I am feeling better. If I am not better I will wait; otherwise I am afraid the scores will reflect my physical state & inability to think clearly. I have no timelines to meet, so I can wait. Once I begin working on Movement II, I would prefer not stopping ... Final decisions need to be made, & if there is a gap in the process the parts might not all fit together properly, the overall energy & ideas might be fragmented, diluted - lost. Even though it is essentially fully sketched out, written - I do not want to take the chance ...
Talked with Chris & Carolyn on Saturday. They plan to move to Ithaca.
Thursday, November 10 5:10 p.m.
A message from one of the harp magazines - they received the CD of Visions, have not yet listened. Another magazine: what CD? I wrote, they wrote: send them another CD with a bio and a short article. They will also list the sheet music of Visions and where to buy it. And perhaps review the CD. Diana wants to know if I am feeling better, if I’ve continued working on the new books. Wrote back that I still had a fever. My book publisher wrote: they want me to pay for being listed on Amazon and Barnes and Nobles from now on. Our contract ran out. A fellow from a radio station somewhere out West wrote: he wants to interview me on The Spiritual Life of Animals andPlants on December 4, at 11 p.m.. I’m his last guest so we can talk for hours if we wish; it’s also a call-in show. Said I would. He sounded very enthusiastic, I already like him: Nevyn. Now to remember not to tie up the phone that night. Spoke with Carolyn on the phone; Ian still thinks he’s a pirate. Rainy, colder. Met the mailman in the carport; more letters. I need to meditate.
I was drawn here to read you. At first, I didn't know why, but now I understand.
I enjoyed your imagery and the peace I felt as I read. I also connected when you expressed concern about writing/composing when not feeling well. More than once, I have been painfully aware of the difference.
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