Cool Reading

The museum is closed Monday, but D picked me up at the bottom of the hill and drove me in this morning; we dropped the truck off at the garage, had a smoke, and he headed home. A quiet day reading in air-conditioned splendor. And such reading! Dear friend and close reader for decades (as I am for him) Neil, had sent me a book and it was in the mailbox this morning. "The Cello Suites" by Eric Siblin. You know I love The Suites and this author is as addicted as I am. Wonderful read, a sketched biography of Bach and The Suites, and the history of Pablo Casals rediscovery of, and his subsequent first recording of all six of them. Well-researched, well-written. I was in a kind of rapture all day, reading in the coolth. Just the water pump on the truck, and it was done by the end of the day. Anthony was teaching last class of the summer quarter at the college, drove me down to get it, then we had a couple of beers at the pub. We amused the help with our mindful patter. Anthony can be quite funny and I have my moments. We did 30 minutes on aesthetics that was pretty good. Picked up some cold cuts and decent cheese at the market, I need to eat more, and I lose interest in cooking when it's this hot. Some excellent tomatoes. Summer fare. Roll-ups with a dipping sauce, a sliced tomato with salt and pepper, some saltines, some pickled jalapeno slices. I listen to a couple of The Suites, Rostropovich, and they break my heart; no music has ever spoken to me so clearly, though I'd be hard-pressed to say what was being said. Music is like smell, it makes you remember, and mixes things together. And the cello vibrates your organs, shakes your skeletal structure, the way the notes are sustained. And I always think about Change-Ringing, when I listen to Bach, the mathematical precision. New Age scientist, he had his finger on the pulse. Just like, if I could make a leap here, Thoreau, had a similar finger on a similar pulse. Just saying you should probably look to different mediums, a velvet cushion, maybe something with feathers, a pineapple perched precariously on top, I have to go; I can't believe you let me get away with such bullshit.