January’s old stones are floating downstream, carried off by snow dreams.
Little motion in the cloister of office work: few walks, poems, pictures.
Learning Mozart’s* Requiem. When I leave, play “Lacrimosa” for me.
Yesterday was thunder, lightening and snow. Today is nothing like it.
17 Syllables. I won’t call them American Sentences.
/ / /
* Mozart, and others.
I’ll be in Arizona for a few days, starting tomorrow. Visiting with my folks. It’s a short enough trip to carry only a change of clothes and a few book, and my iPad. I won’t have internet access from their home, but I bought (downloaded) the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields’ Requiem so I can listen to it and read my music. (We’re doing the Schirmer edition, if you’re curious.) I’ve never sung the Requiem before, and we’re doing all 12 movements, three of which are solo quartets. I thought to apply for one of the smaller contralto solos, but can barely manage (which is hopeful — I haven’t learned them yet) the chorus parts, even though there is much repetition. Perhaps another time. This is the season to enjoy the chorus and try to nail the accidentals in those amazing runs. I need to get them (and other parts) in my head. I have always loved St Martin in the Fields, so it will be a pleasure to be able to listen at will.
Mom is doing okay. Meaning her slide is a slow pitch, low grade. No need yet for breaks or a safety pullout. I can’t see shape of the road ahead, only it’s warning signs.
My day job has been interesting for the last few months. My team has been designing an acute psych ward. We are trying to create a warm yet protective setting, which, as you can likely imagine, is a challenge. An interesting one. I’ve learned a new vocabulary that include words like anti-ligature, fall-protection and and pick-proof. Not all the language is hyphenated.
I have been reading poetry and hope to jot down notes very soon.