I was on the phone Sunday night (yesterday morning) until 3:15 am I didn't get to sleep until around 4:00 for my "nap" before I leave for dialysis at 5:20. Lest this sounds miserable, it's really has been quite the habit for me since starting this whole rigmarole. But this time I turned off the first of the cell phone alarms instead letting all three ring... and I overslept for the first time and didn't get to the clinic until 6:05. UGH.
It was downhill after that.
I weighed in at 104.9 kg -- my lowest weight ever, and even after a very thirsty weekend. Woohoo, I thought -- I'm losing real weight here, yeah, not just water! Now that I was given a new dry weight of 103.5, I'm figuring I only have to lose 1400 cc this session and won't have to go over the dreaded 2000 or 2500 where I've always started cramping. So 1400 plus the 500 they add for saline in the tubes (don't ask me how that works), the total they should've plugged in was 1900. Good job, Madley!
But the RN (whose name I've conveniently forgot today) heard some "crackling" in my lungs -- a new thing for me -- which means even though there's no swelling in the ankles, there's f*cking liquid in my lungs and they need to take that shit out. UGH.
So after I get do my standing blood pressure (which is always high to me, today 185/103) but they say it goes down after dialysis so they don't worry about it, I apologize for oversleeping and being late.
"Well, we might have to cut your time then." (Someone sits in my chair for second shift.)
Ooh, there's a consequence for you, and I make a mental note never to do that again and risk my Compliancy. A shocking grown-up thought.
But then Devil Nurse adds, "Can we do 2500? Let's just try it."
No way, I say and tell her I'm afraid of those stinking leg cramps (and I get it already, I don't need more punishment!)
She says, okay, how about we try 2300, just to get rid of that water, okay?"
My eyeballs are huge and glowing: "All right," I say. "But if I start to cramp, I'm gonna start screaming."
So off we go... I put the TV on ABC (because there's nothing else to watch on the crap stations in the clinic at 6:00 am) and curl up with my DaVita blanket. After giving Dennis, the cute ex-LA tech guy a copy of Salo-Salo and we laugh about how white boy Travis' can speak Tagalog better than either us "natives" -- I fall asleep for my treatment. Funny, I never thought I'd be able to do that, and I always come armed with a backpack full of magazines, a DVD player, DVDs and my cell phone, but now I sleep really well there. I always like to rest when there's noise and others around -- I tell people it's like taking a three-hour flight somewhere and you just can't leave your seat...
I wake up about 30 minutes before the end of treatment and make an early call to girlfriend who's having some medical issues of her own... when all of a sudden my eyes start freaking out and the TV screen looks weird.
"Oh no, something's happening," I tell her, and promise to call her back. "Dennis, Dennis...!" and he comes over from another patient to turn off the fluid removal on machine.
"Blood pressure, blood pressure," I say kinda of panicky, and he presses the BP button.
By the time the BP machine has finished compressing my arm, I'm peeling off my blanket and coat. I look at the machine: 80/45 -- and the 45 is in RED.
"Dennis, Dennis... please... saline, please." I know it takes 2-3 minutes for relief and I'm trying to be calm but now I'm nauseous and trying to fan myself with my hands. Dennis comes over quickly and gives me 200 cc saline back -- I can tell he's just as alarmed at that BP number.
My eyes are welling up -- I can't keep myself calm. Dennis throws me a little sweet sarcasm: "And you worried about your blood pressure being too high."
I smile... but I can't wait. "More please, more saline please." ( What am I, fucking Oliver?) He gives me more and at this point I don't give a shit if I get it ALL back and miss my dry weight altogether. FILL ME THE FUCK UP.
Eventually, the BP rises (100/65) and I'm no longer dizzy or sick. I get up to do my standing BP, and go to scale again: 103.7.
I go back to my chair and Devil Nurse asks me for my weight -- and if I could've shot her an even more "devilly" look, I think I did, with the underlying thought of: Take THAT, you bitch. I'm not listening to your shit again! You guys tell us to be in charge, to tell you what we can or can't tolerate -- and surprisingly enough, I actually KNEW how to take care of myself this time. I just didn't listen.
Well fuck that, I'm not letting that happen again. I'd rather err on not enough...
Which reminds me, the PA (Physician's Assistant) Nga (that's a Vietnamese name if I ever heard one) told me if my clearance isn't higher (which they can't raise manually because I'm on catheter instead of a fistula), I may have to stay for 15 more minutes longer per treatment. I asked if there's anything on my end I can do to prevent that... she said no, it's numbers I can't do anything about at all.
So I said okay. No fight, no emotion. Just acceptance -- this is my life today.
And then I was pretty much wiped. Went again to see the old folks at McDonald's for a half cup of coffee and a half Egg McMuffin. All day I tried to drink more bitter, sour things so I wouldn't want more liquid. I love all my juices, but unsweetened ice tea water w/ lemon quenches my thirst more... and I now I drink it in a wine glass so I don't feel so deprived. I SWEAR I hate this liquid restriction the most... the food I can deal with, but for someone who used to drink tons of water all the time... it's miserable.
Then all I did was sleep, watch reality TV and talk for a few minutes on the phone. Couldn't get on the computer to read emails or anything... I don't know if I was comforting myself or letting myself dive into pathetic pity-dom...
So sorry if I haven't answered your emails yet. I'm on it today, with lots of errands and tasks to do before Travis gets here and we leave for LA (my parents won't let me drive up there by myself and I need my car there!), and to get ready for the whole moving process itself... yuck. I'm sure I'll have more to write about at some point... til now, I'll let the celebrations for Our New President ride me over the hump.
Edited 10/28/08 -- Travis WILL be coming and will be on the panel as well. :)
[Once again: here's the trailer for Salo-Salo:]
How cool is that?! Travis can't make it that up north, but I'll be up there to say hello and will be a last-minute member of the Saturday panel as well. :)
15th ANNUAL FILIPINO AMERICAN CINEFEST FEATURES NEW WORKS,
PANEL DISCUSSION: “FILIPINO AMERICAN FILM, WHAT’S UP, FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER?”
Filipino American artists will celebrate their own cinema with the premiere of at least nine new works at the 15th Annual Filipino American Cine Festival on Friday, October 31 ( 1-5 pm) and Saturday, November 1, 2008 (3-6 pm) at the San Francisco Main Library, Koret Auditorium (100 Larkin Street @ Grove Street, Civic Center, San Francisco)
All screenings are free to the public. (Please see schedule below.)
The yearly festival is organized by FACINE or Filipino Arts & Cinema, International, a not-for-profit media arts organization based in San Francisco that aims to promote and develop Filipino American as well as Philippine national cinema.
Two full-length documentaries, five short films and two web videos form the centerpiece of this year’s festival.
Cielito Torrijos’s Pag-asa sa Paglaya/Hope after Freedom, is a compelling documentary on a timely subject, the social rehabilitation of Filipino ex-offenders and the divisive issue of death penalty abolition in the Philippines.
Jonald J. Reyes’s That Asian Thing inquires into the question of the relative invisibility of Asian America in mainstream American culture by way of interviews with prominent artists in Chicago.
The festival is open to all media artists of Filipino ancestry as well as non-Filipino filmmakers ith works whose subject is Filipino or Filipino American.
Two action-adventure videos by LA-based filmmaker Ron Santiano which take a bow to popular adventure series like Heroes, while featuring Filipino American actors, provide interesting mix to this year’s festival: EVE: Beauty & The Blade and Wonder Woman.
Five short films complete the programme in a variety of genre and subject: the hilarious instructional video, Salo-Salo (how to cook dinuguan/meat cooked with pork blood); Yasmine Gomez’s music video You Will Remember, featuring Lumaya; and the short features, Jeannie Barroga’s Be His and Robert Casipe’s Afterplay, both inquire into the complexity of women’s relationships with men.
Noel Shaw’s Kundiman completes the program in a highly charged, provocative look at the impact of politics on an individual’s life.
A panel discussion will follow the screenings on Saturday, November 1 with guest filmmakers, Ron Santiano, Yasmine Gomez, Noel Shaw, Robert Casipe, Jeannie Barroga, Travis Kraft and Madley Katarungan, to be moderated by FACINE Director, Mauro Feria Tumbocon, Jr.
The festival is co-presented with the Filipino American Center of the San Francisco Main Library. For information, please contact, Mauro Tumbocon, Director, FACINE at (415) 756-7331 or email: mftworks@hotmail.com
Find below the full schedule of the festival.
Friday, October 31, 2008
1:00 – 2:11 Pag-asa sa Paglaya/Hope after Freedom (New Breed Productions, 71 min, 2008) Produced by Cielito Torrijos
2:11 – 2:31 Short Films Special: Blast from the Past
HoME (5 min, 2002) Directed and written by Matthew Abaya
she (7 min, 2001) Directed by Mark Bella and written by Bella
and Christopher Castillo
Silencio (9 min, 1995) Directed, produced and written by Michael
Arago
BREAK
2:45 – 4:10 That Asian Thing (Groovy Ghost Films, Inc., 84 min, 2008)
Directed, produced and written by Jonald J. Reyes
4:10 – 4:50 Wonder Woman: Balance of Power (Redcape Cinema, 40 min,
2006) Directed, produced and written by Ron Santiano
Saturday, November 1, 2008
3:00 – 4:20 Short Films Collection NOW
Salo-Salo (Poolboy Films, 5 min, 2008) Directed by Travis Kraft, Produced by Madley Katarungan
Be His (JNJ Productions, 7 min, 2008) Directed, produced and written by Jeannie Barroga
Eve: Beauty and the Blade, Episode 1 (Redcape Cinema, 30 min, 2008) Directed, produced and written by Ron Santiano
Afterplay (Tiny Oak Pictures/Crosshairs Entertainment, 12 min, 2008) Directed and written by Robert Casipe
Lumaya: You Will Remember (Subject to Change Productions, 4 min, 2008) Directed, produced and co-written by Yasmine Gomez
Kundiman (Pinoy Noir Films, 20 min, 2008) Directed, produced and written by Noel Shaw
4:30 – 5:45 Panel Discussion: Filipino American film: What’s Up, Fifteen Years After?
Guest filmmakers: Ron Santiano, Yasmine Gomez, Noel Shaw, Robert Casipe, Jeannie Barroga, Travis Kraft and Madley Katarungan
Moderated by Mauro Feria Tumbocon, Jr., director, FACINE
(from abrenian.com)
Spent the day in West LA with Travis as he taped Kababayan LA, hosted by Jannelle So.
Manolo Carrillo, Jannelle So, Scott Tang and Travis Kraft
I once read somewhere that you can learn something from everyone you meet -- from the bum on the street to the richest man in universe to the baby in a stroller to an old fart mouthing off in the grocery store.
You learn what you want to keep in your life, and maybe some other stuff you should get IN to your life a little more often.
So what does it mean when you find yourself "accidentally" hanging out with an international male actor/model?
No, not what you think -- all about vanity, narcissism, immaculate grooming, exquisite taste and absolute snobbery and bucks up the ying-yang? (well, not all the time anyway -- ha!) No, not with this down-to-earth North Dakota guy, anyway.
Where we meet as friends has nothing to do with his work -- but by osmosis I'm learning a thing or two about self-confidence in the physical realm that I've never been in contact with before. An athlete since age 9 and a former national wrestling champion has made this guy FRIENDS -- dare I say BEST BUDDIES -- with his own body, and he thinks nothing else of it except to take care of it like anything else in his life: his car, apartment, computer, etc. All matter of fact, nothing special -- and certainly nothing to be ashamed of or hung up over.
What a novel idea: comfort in your own skin.
Hm.
Made me get a haircut today, get rid of the gray and look in the mirror and not barf again -- good, okay! See? Successful learning... I'm Asian and not vomit-inducing. YAY!
I stand a little taller already.
Car's almost packed up and I'm finally getting myself up to the Bay Area. (And if I don't time it right,I might be napping for six hours on the road -- so this is going to be short!) I don't have a working TV in L.A. (I know, shocking), but I need to make sure I'm at my parents and THEIR big-ass TV for the Opening Ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympics.
Yes, I'm an Olympics junkie, and have watched almost all of them since the Olga Korbut/Cathy Rigby balance beam years. I'm also the predecessor of what they call nowadays a super-fangirl... yeah, I've met -- even "more" than met... well, anybody I've ever wanted to or admired. That would include a TV thug's cousin, a Mormon, singing twins and Filipino-speaking white guy who cooks.
Right now I'm thinking about my two favorite gold medalists: Ilia Kulik, 1998 Men's Figure Skating Champion; and Greg Louganis, 1984 and 1988 Platform and Springboard Champion. I so love what the Olympians are -- they bring the best they are to table and show us the potential in ourselves. I'm so lucky that I've met both of them, and have even gotten to know Ilia quite well (read here and here to re-live a little of that, yeah, yeah, I'm a broken-record with the Ilia stuff already, but it was an important time in my life!).
AOL put up a slideshow of the 40 most memorable moments in Olympic history that brought all those bigger-than-me feelings back (and of course wishing I was an athlete of some sort).
Until I get back to the computer... enjoy the memories.
Oh, look out, Mike Valentino -- I've never been to N.C. before and even though I don't have the same kind of power Prince James Dean has , I might just might have some leftover United miles... (Just kidding, don't send the mobst-- I mean... I better be quiet.)
This afternoon I was bemoaning the fact to my friend Lana that I have to make a trip up north and I DON'T GET TO SEE BRAD... which is the whole reason I planned to make this trip in the first place. A week and a half ago I needed to see him -- I was desperate to see him.
Now it happens I have a lot of errands to do up there, and I missed spending any quality time with my parents and family during my last visit. And yes, a couple of fantastic networking possibles are in the works there too... but listen, I WAS GOING THERE TO SEE BRAD. And I think he wanted to see me too.
Dammit.
But I'm stalling. Stalled. And I'm hard-pressed to get into my car and drive the 347 miles (and I even missed my niece's birthday dinner tonight too -- Happy Belated again, S!) -- a trip I hate when I'm alone because I get sleepy every 45 minutes and have to take a nap. Maybe I'll just buy some more Streisand tapes to sing to this time... Yentl, A Star is Born...
In any case, out of my mouth popped:
"I can't believe how pussy-whipped he is."
"Oh, yuck, Madley! I hate that word."
"Fucking guys. They fall for the One Girl and that's it, they can't see straight. It's HER pussy and no one else's!"
"I've always hated that word. It's so crass."
"What -- pussy?"
"Yeah. Gross."
"I know -- in our day it used to be one of the foulest words you could use to describe... I don't think you could even hear it anywhere except in pornos. But everyone uses it now."
"Really?"
"Yup.
"I gotta get out more."
"It's no big, Lana, it just means a guy is a wimp -- a big chicken-shit."
"Yuck. I still don't like to hear it."
"It's said so often it doesn't even mean anything anymore. Like 'bitch.' Everyone says it all the time -- it's not nice and I wouldn't say it front of my parents, but it's common. Pussy, pussy, pussy--"
"Madley!"
"See? Doesn't mean anything! Actually, it kinda makes me laugh--"
"Huh? Because?"
"Well... you know, my friend Travis here in L.A. was coming out of the gym and was crossing the street when suddenly some guy in a car cuts him off and almost runs him down, then screams out the window, "IDIOT!" like it was his fault for walking. Last I heard pedestrians get the right of way here in California, right?
"In any case, Travis sees that this guy is pulling into the Ralph's parking lot... which is where he is headed himself.
"So of course, he's pissed off -- and probably way puffed up -- and goes up to this unsuspecting guy: 'Hey -- did you just call me an idiot?"
"The guy puffed back. 'Yeah.'
"Well, your Mr. Tough Guy when you're in a car like that -- that was really rude back there. Do you want to call me an idiot to my face?'
"Don't forget now, Travis is over six feet tall and JUST GOT OUT OF THE GYM and apparently Car-Guy was just 'normal-size.'
"Car-Guy manages to sputter out, 'No, no, man,' as he tries to back away. 'I don't want no trouble.'
"But Travis was having none of it. 'You owe me an apology.'
"'I'm sorry,' says Car-Guy. 'Sorry.'
"'Good,' says Travis. 'Now say you're a pussy.'
"'What?!' says Car-Guy.
"What?!" says my shocked friend, Lana.
I tell her I'm completely flabbergasted when Travis says he said that, so he explained: "He WAS a pussy, so I made him say it. I said, Say it. Say you're a pussy. And he said it -- he said, 'I'm a pussy.'"
"Oh my god, Travis, I can't believe you made him say that."
"Hell, yeah! And then he started to walk away and I said, "Hey -- you got vaginal secretions dripping out of you!"
"No way, you did not say that!"
"Yeah, I did. Maybe I went too far to make him humiliate himself like that--"
"You think?!"
"... but he's lucky I didn't punch him out right there. That was rude of him. HE REALLY WAS A BIG PUSSY."
"Bleech," Lana says after that closing remark. "I'll never get used to it."
I tell her the word is just the punchline of a joke to me now, and new word for a coward/baby/loser. It doesn't mean anything to me anymore -- um, except when it's used with the word "whipped."
It makes me jealous.
And I'll admit it -- crass is as crass does: someday I hope someone will be that whipped for me.
Edited 8/6/08, 3:09 pm: Changed the pseudonym of "Robert" to the real Travis, who wanted credit for his humorous handiwork. And also to correct "vaginal fluids" to "vaginal secretions." When in doubt go to the source. :)
In Redwood City tonight with Travis as he did "Adobo Nation," the new magazine show on The Filipino Channel. I was certainly more nervous about it all than he was -- what a pro!
He was interviewed by the lovely Jaja Bolivar -- about the American Adobo video that's had over 200,000 YouTube hits, and about Poolboy Films' new DVD, Salo-Salo. And what a coincidence: Jaja and he had done an interview together just a few months prior!
Congrats on a great job, Travis (but you knew that already)! This episode of ADOBO NATION airs on TFC this Sunday, June 29, 2008 @ 6:40 pm PT -- be there and meet the "Adobo King" LMAO
As for me... it's back into the writing trenches... (the craziness lately has been overwhelming...)
That's my mama -- she looks pretty good for being 81, eh? (No worries, she's proud to brag!)
I was up in the Bay Area this past weekend and had a full day with my family, who I don't get to see very often or for very long. What a whirlwind -- Scott's in San Jose for a beautiful extended family brunch, the afternoon at Jeffy's house for siesta (of course!), Vietnamese dinner w/ him and Susan in Newark, mass at 8:00 pm, then a little walk to visit with Jo-Anne, Auntie Gloria and Uncle Joe. All the while got some great "live feedback from laughing Filipinos" on the Salo-Salo trailer to share with Travis -- who knew that "bawiin mo yan" ("take that back!") was such a hilarious line?! They all HOWL at the line... and my mom especially loves the heart-ripping out scene.
"Like an aswang!" she says (a witch).
Here are those San Jose munchkins that I adore, Stephanie, Kevin and Chris:
I didn't want to go to church -- who wants to go at 8:00 at night? -- but Mom was hounding me, so what the heck, it's Mother's Day, and I didn't think it wasn't going to kill me...
At the end of mass, Father Jeff asked that all the mothers and grandmothers stay standing and everyone else to please sit down. He was going to give all the mothers a blessing and our gratitude.
And as I sat, the tears just poured out of my eyes: I couldn't believe I wasn't standing, that I wasn't a legitimate "Mom."
I'm so very thankful for my wonderful nieces and nephews and godchildren... and still, that is a big "ouch." I think it always will be.
Happy Mother's Day.
Okay, The "Adobo Manak" Man, Travis Kraft, is at it again -- with a trailer for his new cooking surprise...
Only this time, yours truly was actually "working" this shoot -- that's me yelling "Ang guapo mo, Travis!" and also shaking a bit, TRYING to keep the camera steady on his arm while he's tying his shoe ;)
Enjoy... whaddya think?
I'm so proud of this piece... and this day.
So much drama around the darn thing! I started it in 2003 when my composition professor, Bruno Louchouarn assigned it to the Comp I classes instead of the standard "invention."
"You have to write for different voices in a tango as well... why not write something you can use?"
He's not only a genius, but a practical sort as well!
Flash forward five years: Thursday night before the recital, and this thing is hot off the press as I head off to Oxy for my one and only rehearsal. It just doesn't want to get done! I can listen to all the Astor frickin' Piazzolla in the world and cry dramatic, heartfelt, longing tears -- I CAN'T FINISH IT! So I show up with 90% of it done, and a B-section that is a SHELL of what it should be.
BTW, did I mention I spent the whole day trying to track down a violin player? Thought I had one... then I didn't! (Who the hell scheduled these recitals on Passover weekend anyway?!) On the horn all day while trying to write, attend a rehearsal, pay for rehearsal space at ANMT... fortunately I ran into Elise Dewsberry's husband there, Stephen Green, a professional cellist, who took out his blackberry or some such device and gave me Jean Sudbury's number. By 3:00 pm, I had a violinist!
But Jean couldn't come to rehearsal that night. Fortunately, she's such a pro and does lots of tangos in her playing life, so she said she'd meet us at 12:30 the day of the recital to run through it a couple of times with the rest of the group. "It'll be fine!" she assured me... whew, what a relief! Okay, a little nervewracking, but I had some other fellas to meet.
Simeon Pillich, who's played with such greats as Al Jarreau, Burt Bacharach, The Stylistics, Melissa Etheridge and Alice Cooper, recorded numerous international film soundtracks and is now a professor at Oxy, had always been a buddy since my trying to finish in 2003. When I got out of my jury on March 18, my panel was worried about my getting personnel for this piece. Get them quickly, they said! I walked out of the room and there was Simeon. "Wanna play a tango for my recital?" "Sure!" he says... then proceeds to get me the wonderful UCLA senior and jazzman extraordinaire, Max Kaplan, on clarinet too!
Max and I talk a lot on the phone and tells me he and his violinist friend love to improv. I tell him the piece is simple... and I'll have music for him when we meet. So grateful he was willing to drive out from the westside.
I met my piano man, 18-year-old self-described "slacker" Michael Saucy at Stephen Bent's trombone/voice recital on March 30. He was playing big time jazz and was as cool (and cute!) as a button. I ask him if he's a music major: " don't know." Is he available to play for me: "Sure." I don't speak with him again for three weeks... but I know he'll be there.
8:00 pm, Thursday: I talk Max onto campus from the freeway and my guys are all there. I'm so embarrassed by the state of this music -- the parts are a mess, there are barely any articulation/dynamic markings, and I'm lucky I even have measure numbers in the darn thing. Thank goodness for pencils. :) And of course, there's no violin player.
But then that magic moment happens that (Professor) Andre Myers talks about -- the moment you hear your music off the page, off the computer... and in the hands of real musicians. We got through the first two sections... and I'm in heaven! This piece exists now way BEYOND ME... and it really is thrilling...
I forget though, that I've written what I think is a "simple" piano part for a professional pianist/accompanist that, of course, I can't play myself... and I just realize that Michael is an A-#1 jazz guy and improv man. Doesn't necessarily mean he's a good sight-reader! OOPS. So we struggle through a little bit, but he assures me he'll practice and get it. I tell him we'll put some chord symbols in there and make it easier for all of us!
Max, on the other hand, reads like a demon. His part has a lot of rests in the beginning so he says, "I'll just play the violin part." "But it's in the wrong key for you." "It's okay, I'll transpose it." And boy does he! So we get to hear the melody for awhile, until he has to play the real clarinet part, and I just sing the violin.
Simeon? He's a rock. My biggest cheerleader, who kept it real and calm and fun for me. And boy do I love a double bass.
The B-section -- well, talk about SCREWED. Can you believe I wrote that with only 11-bars in it? Standard jazz is at least 12 -- what was I thinking? So it was sounding pretty awful, esepcially since it was just piano and bass written and Michael was having trouble reading the mess I wrote. So I make an appointment to meet Michael late Friday night after a recital to fix the damn chord progression, and I tell Max he's the man -- he gets to improv a beautiful clarinet jazz solo and make me look good!
And talk about good... at one point during break, Max gets on one piano and Michael's on the other and they are just going to town, doing improv all the way. SO HOT. My eyes were watering as I called my friend Diane and let her answering machine record some of it. As Michael told me later about Max (who returned the compliment): "That guy is SICK!" (GOOD, in today's lingo... who knew?)
"How could I be so lucky?" I kept asking myself. Simeon joined them later... and I think "With musicians like this, WHO NEEDS FUCKING WRITERS?" Those three men are amazing, and know a world (jazz) I'll never understand... but will appreciate forever.
I was floating on air after that rehearsal as I rushed out to shoot the last scenes of PLUTONIA at 11:00 pm with Travis and Aubrey at LACMA. I'm running completely on empty, but still find a way to shoot the shit til 3:00 am at Denny's with Travis... all the time thinking "I've got a video to cut and a tango to frickin' fix... I'm insane!"
So Friday night, a half-dead and comatose me spends an hour-and-a-half in a practice room with Michael the Piano Prodigy, and we "fix" my B-section and go over the piano part. I loved talking with that young man, a Berkeley High graduate born to be a musician, who's played jazz internationally, and was/is feeling stifled by the academic life at Oxy. I told him to do what he loves -- play jazz -- he'll figure the rest out as long as he's passionate (and talented!) at what he does. I will be a fan and a supporter and will always wish him well. The future of music is in guys like him.
===
Sunday at 12:30: I meet Jean and hand everyone their newly cleaned-up parts (except for Michael's). They run through it once, with Jean sight-reading it perfectly and with the best of flair. I only give her one direction: that at the recap she embellish all she wants!
Throughout the rehearsal though there are people calling me because they're lost, and the singers are arriving and refreshments are being set up... and I can't hear the whole thing all the way through -- aargh! But my musicians are pros, and after I tell them where they should sit, stand, set up and exit, they take care of themselves. They rehearse it twice and it's beautiful. Jean is all and more she promised to be, and Max is a pro improviser. My only notes? I ask Max to make sure he's playing something on Beat 4 before the recap since everyone else has rests, and then for he and Jean to join in with their own improvised notes at the end so they're all quietly playing.
And they do. It's a tiny rough start at the beginning... but within seconds... again, I'm in heaven.
BRAVO to the players!
The feedback I got from this piece was amazing... and even now, a week or so later, I'm still surprised by it. And so pleased.
It's been the hardest piece for me, with no lyrics and just guts and emotion, romance and longing... and the shock to me: people liked it.
Again... I am so happy. I finally feel seen.
So much to say -- I'm overwhelmed! More to come...
In the meantime, here's the video of the Electronic music piece I did in 2003, where I added the video this month... well, okay, so I finished cutting it the morning of the recital, what else is new? I'm really happy with it. What do YOU think?
Program notes:
PLUTONIA (music 2003; video 2008)
I was terrified of working with pure electronic sounds and no written score, but was convinced by my much younger student cohorts that I needed to learn how to “work the machines” if I was going to continue in the field of music. After hours locked in the studio with ProTools and a Mac and using only samples, the result is this apocalyptic musical landscape.
"him" Travis Kraft
"her" Aubrey Elson
