Have done nothing since returning from the PAE/Louisiana Showcase in Baton Rouge, but rest from it- AND the trip back from Europe on the 15th- [which was a few days to a week prior to the PAE] and adjust to being back home; to life here in general- changes in time, humidity, temperature; and getting back into the rhythm of it all.
I'm TRYING to do nothing- considering the prolific amount of musical work i produced in Switzerland- but i cant quite slow down enough; my mind is racing with ideas; too many to do- OR BEGIN- ideas about editing, mixing, album covers etc etc etc. i have a problem realizing that everything cannot and does not have to be done NOW and/or ASAP! that's why someone invented 'to do' lists.
I NEVER POSTED THE ABOVE: BUT will leave it as it is. the post got side tracked because i HAVE been doing things. Thank god Michele & Marsh have been helping me with the yard and grounds- to beat back the jungle before it overtakes everything.
October 7, 2011
in being out in the yard, working, i do now [ as i did in the sad spring] feel connected to my parents, grandparents, my ancestors, the land, God and Creation. nature is the great healer. i mowed a swath down through the woods to the 'mystic circle' as i call it, in the "magic forest'- its a natural circle, possibly because of lack of sunshine, the grass doesn't grow so high. there are 2 old sheds- 1 that has fallen down & another about to. i think of building something there soon. a little woods house. a place to be in absolute quiet & nature. a place to meditate, pray, read, write, whatever.
it is comforting to know i am here on this land where my family has been 100 years, minimum. little things remind me of them all. seeing a rose bush my mama had tied to a stake w/a piece of cloth or 1 of the million other reminders of her- [ remembering how she worked unceasingly for years- in both our yards- non stop- fighting back this louisiana jungle] ; the wood duck box my father built for me is lying by a tree because the pine it was on was dead & had to be cut. need to place it somewhere- and the back porch he helped me enclose & work done in my house, and the house itself; my grandmother's fig bush and flowers- and house [again]- even my step grandfathers 'fighting cock' cages, and whiskey bottles down by the woods, in the shed... by the magic forest. the house itself is a reminder of the grandfather i never knew; who built it; who even cut & milled the wood for it. small comforts, but large comforts in many ways. i know i write about all that, often, but, sometimes i tend to forget. i am thankful when i DO remember. this is home; my 'sense of place'; my absolute roots.
have been thinking in French all morning, for some bizarre reason. "writing" little phrases in my brain, as i watered the yard, my mama's roses, etc. it's in the blood [on my father's side] as far back as 1450 [that i know of]- although i have written several songs in french i never released them. but considering i have been working & living in Europe for, more or less, 20 years- it doesn't seem that strange to me, anymore. what's strange is that i wrote the songs before i ever went over; maybe from reading french authors & poets, liking french art[ monet/degas/lautrec etc], listening to piaf, brel, aznavoir, etc in my early years; or maybe from my hanging out with crazy cajuns in my teens; or again: dans le sang [in the blood]- guess there is a francophone gene run amok somewhere. there must be also be a germanic one, due to my obsession with german art: german expressionism and dada, poetry [trakl, etc] - after reading christoper isherwood's "berlin stories" waaaaaaaay back in the day, i was obsessed with the notion of going there. when i did get there, [after Moscow] i absolutely loved it. it was everything and MORE than i'd ever expected.
I NEVER POSTED THE ABOVE: BUT will leave it as it is. the post got side tracked because i HAVE been doing things. Thank god Michele & Marsh have been helping me with the yard and grounds- to beat back the jungle before it overtakes everything.
October 7, 2011
in being out in the yard, working, i do now [ as i did in the sad spring] feel connected to my parents, grandparents, my ancestors, the land, God and Creation. nature is the great healer. i mowed a swath down through the woods to the 'mystic circle' as i call it, in the "magic forest'- its a natural circle, possibly because of lack of sunshine, the grass doesn't grow so high. there are 2 old sheds- 1 that has fallen down & another about to. i think of building something there soon. a little woods house. a place to be in absolute quiet & nature. a place to meditate, pray, read, write, whatever.
it is comforting to know i am here on this land where my family has been 100 years, minimum. little things remind me of them all. seeing a rose bush my mama had tied to a stake w/a piece of cloth or 1 of the million other reminders of her- [ remembering how she worked unceasingly for years- in both our yards- non stop- fighting back this louisiana jungle] ; the wood duck box my father built for me is lying by a tree because the pine it was on was dead & had to be cut. need to place it somewhere- and the back porch he helped me enclose & work done in my house, and the house itself; my grandmother's fig bush and flowers- and house [again]- even my step grandfathers 'fighting cock' cages, and whiskey bottles down by the woods, in the shed... by the magic forest. the house itself is a reminder of the grandfather i never knew; who built it; who even cut & milled the wood for it. small comforts, but large comforts in many ways. i know i write about all that, often, but, sometimes i tend to forget. i am thankful when i DO remember. this is home; my 'sense of place'; my absolute roots.
have been thinking in French all morning, for some bizarre reason. "writing" little phrases in my brain, as i watered the yard, my mama's roses, etc. it's in the blood [on my father's side] as far back as 1450 [that i know of]- although i have written several songs in french i never released them. but considering i have been working & living in Europe for, more or less, 20 years- it doesn't seem that strange to me, anymore. what's strange is that i wrote the songs before i ever went over; maybe from reading french authors & poets, liking french art[ monet/degas/lautrec etc], listening to piaf, brel, aznavoir, etc in my early years; or maybe from my hanging out with crazy cajuns in my teens; or again: dans le sang [in the blood]- guess there is a francophone gene run amok somewhere. there must be also be a germanic one, due to my obsession with german art: german expressionism and dada, poetry [trakl, etc] - after reading christoper isherwood's "berlin stories" waaaaaaaay back in the day, i was obsessed with the notion of going there. when i did get there, [after Moscow] i absolutely loved it. it was everything and MORE than i'd ever expected.
despite the fact that i was supposed to work outside today- and it is a beautiful day for doing it- i got no further than watering. i came in for a coffee, cigarette, cd art & NOW rant break. i've been designing cd covers for many of the new solo projects. i'm suing very obscure photos- blurs, double exposures etc. since i feel it fits the music. and using only the photos i made wherever i composed/recorded the music.
even though i did so many music projects in europe this last trip [therapy]- i began doing more here [also therapy]- and have done about 2 cds worth of solo material in the past week; electric piano to minidisc. it is NOT the same as real piano [deja parle] but... it worked very nicely. i did some very minimalist things- rather debussy/ satie ish influenced stuff; and some messaien/ takemitsu ish influenced stuff. but had planned nothing more than playing/recording. i was fresh out of bed, 1/2 asleep, not thinking, just playing off the top of my head. only when i played the stuff back did i 'hear' the influences. i suppose this phase will go on as long as i feel the need to do it; need the healing therapeutic value of it. words do not always convey what i feel, or what i want to say.
my father gave me a small book of my grandmother's poems, several years ago. i have decided to write music and melodies to them. i never knew she wrote poems, until long after she died. i plan do so some very simple solo piano 'folk song' type music for them. what a collaboration that will be!
i have all the windows open, fans on- and hear the hubcap sarah hung in the tree as a gong [which i had to move after the pine tree & big wisteria was cut down] gently 'gonging' against the tree closer to the bedroom. when out on the patio, all my mother's wind chimes were tinkling. it really is too beautiful to be inside. think i am going to go rake pine straw for the rose bushes, and clean grass out from under my grandmother's fig bush... and maybe layer some figs, azaleas, oleander and roses to transplant in spring... and absorb melodies from the birds, chimes, gongs, breezes rustling limbs, and nature itself.
[C]2011 DOUG DUFFEY
