Spent all day reading essays on the various Heroic Legends along with condensed plot lines. B came by in the morning and I was still awake writing. He just dropped off a couple of books and left, as I was clearly in a state, did mention that Ronnie would be at his place tonight, practicing music. I went down and listened for a couple of hours. Nice, for the rehearsal banter and the playing, after a day spent buried in books. Ronnie's arms were a mess, as he had spent the day picking blackberries. He picked four gallons and will be making jam all day tomorrow to sell at the farmer's market. His shirt was ripped to shreds and bloody, and there were dozens of new scabs on his forearms. He and B get going on local history and it's a treat. The drive home, the mile around and then up the driveway, was a light-show of fireflies. TR has to write a firefly piece and get it out of his system. Maybe we can use it in the opera, if it might prove useful, but he has to write a piece. I'm more flexible, I don't have to do any thing other than be myself. The Kalevala, is a complete construct, from 1835 to 1849 Lonnrot spliced together an epic, adding a few transitional pieces. The archive is astounding, 1.2 million lines. Lonnrot was thorough and a meticulous keeper of records. I admire that, I have to say. I only have one photograph of a house I built, and that's an accident, there was a marriage there, years, and several owners later.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
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