Proceeding in chronological order:
September 14, 2002.
Ten dollars bought me three hours of Indian classical music--meaning about 5 cents per minute. Kalakendra
is the group sponsoring, and we were put through an endless raga before the intermission. It was a little Straussian.
The final piece was a classic song for Krishna which was what I had been hoping for and expecting.
...today a stiff blast of cold air hit Portland. As long as I stayed out of shadowed areas, it wasn't intolerable. Indeed, coming back from downtown on the bus I could see Mt. Hood, as if it were an inflatable pyramid plopped down somewhere a few miles to the east. (It was a rather sickly gray-brown, barely touched by snowdrifts still!)
Nothing happened of import today. I had a true hangover--the headache was minor, but my body felt ten times heavier than normal and it was an extensive effort to get out of bed.
[Reading Voltaire I found this passage: ] ..."most of the boyars slept on planks on which they extended furs or a blanket. These people would have seemed like Spartans if they had been sober."
Saw Center Stage's production of True West, by Sam Shepard....I strongly identified with the Austin character--a cautious, diligent writer who craves excitement and adventure.
A poem from November 24.
From barbarous Portland town to golden Danube's stream
Is many miles; one thing alone can mend the seam:
The orchestra--whose sound so gracefully transports
This homesick poet to Vienna's splendid courts.