Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1203032351240.22139@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: eighteen and fourteen
Date: Sat, 3 Mar 2012 23:53:27 -0500 (EST)
eighteen and fourteen http://espdisk.com/alansondheim/eighteen.mp3 http://espdisk.com/alansondheim/fourteen.mp3 or (for Chrome users): http://lounge.espdisk.com/archives/789 this beginning with an 18' solo on the Shehata oud, more complex working harmonics and string noise, and ascending to the highest spheres, beginning the reading of Lewis' The Monk, then moving through descriptions of English gardens as natural imitations or imitations of the natural in The Flower Garden, 1839, to the pleasures of the minor ninth, which I assign to the fourteenth half-tone near the sound-hole of the Shehata oud, resonating with the lowest spheres or degrees of heavens, so difficult to reach that I needs add an odd third or fourth in there, almost missing entirely, the wonderment of the wood insisting that something is there, present, extended from nearly the ending of the eighteen, which I cannot reproduce, the crying of the oud as I attempt yet higher and lower spheres, my own mistress, own master, my music yet of my very own, yet sure not mine, already breathing, I am given the gift of sleep once more, these ascensions and descensions, these inclinings and declinings, I am forlorn, I am lost, I approach myself, you are there, planets, fractions, ice, the soft warmth of your body, so difficult to reach that I add, that I may add, yet another note