2015 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 580 times in 2015. If it were a cable car, it would take about 10 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

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The Drummer in the Band (IV)

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson - All Rights Reserved
(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved

(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved

Les Belles
(Dedicated to Emily Dickinson and Dorothy
Parker, "Les Belles des Lettres.")

As future poet laureate of the Americas
and
Belle of Bogotá
I have a question "entre nous"--
De mujer a mujer
or sister to sister,
as they say.

Would  you today
become a blonde?
Would you as a woman
dress in coctel noir most elegant
and then--
Champagne glass to hand--
THROW yourself
Across the tymps of a man
who makes you stay up all night,
Writing?

Would you drive a 'Vette?
Or stick with the sedate,
a serious sedan--
4 doors V -8 plus options?

Can your mind and heart still make you a poet
When your body dances cumbia
And your soul
Marries another culture?

So,
What does a Belle do
These days?

(C) 30 January 1995





The Drummer in the Band
So okay
I'll tell you
but
in English

about the project
if
you'll get me
a cigarette
a Kool

Thank you.

We stand
side by side
against a car
in the sun
in a parking lot
downtown
somewhere
He waits
I smoke

Okay
what happened 
was

I got the hots
for the drummer
in the band

But

Instead of doing
a gliss
on his fingers
as I planned

Or!

Sucked cherries
from his navel
as I dreamed

I wrote
poems
and then

I took pictures

See
César
is
the cake

The band
and the rest
are
only
Frosting
Decorative sugar
to cover my intent

To possess
and
be possessed
by

The drummer
in
the band

(C) February 2014
(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved.

(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved.

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The Drummer in the Band (III)

Image and Text (C) 2015 by Metta Anderson
All Rights Reserved


Last Concert - March 2003

Last Concert – March 2003

 

Poema a 4 Manos

Part 1

¿Me esperas
en este cuarto?

Me gusta(s)

luces tenues
colores de
chocolate
cálido

¿Sabías
cuánto
te he
esperado?
¿deseado
el placer
de experimentar
lo que
eres?

Tu cuerpo
delgado
frágil
dorado
Estirado en la cama
esperando
arqueando para recibir
acaricias
un beso
mis uñas
deslizando
sobre tu espalda
tus piernas
tu pecho
y
hacia
abajo

Tus ojos
oscuros
brillando
en la sombra
de un cuarto
escondido
en alguna parte

Botella de whiskey
vasos
nuestra ropa por aquí
por allá
sábanas
nos envuelven
llega una música
de alguna parte

Me envuelvo
en tí
en tu calor
en la finura
de tu piel dorada
en el terciopelo
de tu voz
en el toque
de tus manos
exploratorias
posesivas
no vacila
gozan

Como gozo yo
de tu cuerpo
de tu boca
consumiéndome
de tu ser
penetrándome
adueñándote
de mí

¿Quién domina
a quién?
No sé

Porque
me disuelvo
en ti
en tus ojos oscuros
profundos
destellando
diamantes
(pero
sin fondo)

Y te siento
dentro de mi
como mi propia
alma
encerrando
mi corazón

Con tu cuerpo
arqueando
para
protegernos
en la eternidad

Mientras afuera
en el mundo
hay música
que solo nosotros
hemos inventado
y podemos
escuchar
(11 septiembre 2015)

Parte II
Traje
las palabras
pero
tú tienes la música

Este
es tu poema
escrito
por mí

para decirme
algo
empujarme
más allá
y mejor
que lo que he hecho
antes

Eres
el angel
todavía

(13 septiembre 2015)

 

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The Drummer in the Band (II)

UNTITLED (II)

Image and text (C) 2015 by Metta Anderson
All Rights Reserved


I see your face
and
doors open
in my mind
in my heart
in my soul

I see you
with
your eyes
still dark
and 
curious
and 
direct

Your mouth
with a smile
hidden
in the corners

You are stopped
but
waiting
calm
alert
for the next
beat
change
in tempo
rhythm

Musician you are
will always be
Music flowing
in your blood
in your body
to your hand
poised
for the next
note
next
phrase
next
movement

The symphony
inside
you

released
when you move
or smile

You are
still
you

My music
my
inspiration
into me
out to you
and back

You are the music

and that
is Eternity

20 August 2015
osc006

(C) 2003 by Metta Anderson

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The Drummer in the Band (I)

(C) Text and Images 2015 by Metta Anderson All Rights Reserved

The following six poems and five photos form a small book that I put together recently. It’s an experiment for me because I’ve only thought about doing this but was afraid to try.

The book itself is handmade–accordian pleat spine holding the front and back covers (Fabriano 600 gr). The poems inside are typed on cream-colored Kimberly because computers require the installation of a very expensive program (Adobe’s “In Design” or similar) before allowing poets to create a layout that fits the work. The photos are digitally printed from my negatives only because I do not have money to buy the chemicals to make my own prints. I hope to remedy this in the future.

Because of economic limitations, I’m publishing the book in sections–two poems and a photo today; more next week. I’m following the book’s layout so, by the time it’s complete, it will be in reverse order. Sorry about that. But feel free to re-arrange the order when everything’s published.

 

UNTITLED

hóla
percussive prince

I see you
hear you
feel you
again

All those bongos
and congas
and animal hide tambores
talking at once
talking
to me
about you

You
talking to
me
again

And me
seeing
you
again
in black and white
in Juan Valdez
some night
drinking tinto
¿espresso?
smoking
watching

And me
watching you
through a viewfinder
like before

And you
know it
play to it
love it

While the camera
and I
love you back
in black and white
forever.

(C) 17 september 2013

osc008(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson

 

COCAINE Z

Ludwigs and Marlboros
and I'm gone.
Druggies and junkies
know grass and coke and horse
and the pleasures derived
thereof.

With me
it's you
and the unknown pleasures
thereof.

One whiff
one snort
one look
at your hands
     on the drums
or
wrapped
     on the sticks
and I'm gone

And I'm so supercharged
     high
I'm not here
     anymore
And I don't want to be
     either.

I'm lost in you
     Cocaine Z
And I want to stay
     that way.

24 September 1994

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The Geneva Conversation

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson – All Rights Reserved

Quick Notes:   The Geneva store is now located on the second floor of the Centro Comercial Atlantis, in Bogotá–L-209-2A.  Jorge Rodríguez, the young man with whom I spoke, is now teaching in one of the District’s schools.

The following is about an experience I had in a store in the Atlantis Mall, here in Bogotá, in April 2015.

Went crazy for a while in a new store at Atlantis. Not horribly. Just tossed aside everything that bothersO/angers me and wrapped myself in music. . .

I was on my way to Samsung to pick up my phone ($15,000 pesos to tell me the display doesn’t work (I knew that) and $65,000 pesos to replace it; I said no to both; phone worked anyway). I got off TransMilenio at Héroes and walked to Atlantis specifically to use their ladies’ room. But saw Geneva Lab’s windows (went in Atlantis’s “back doors”) and four large framed photos of “rock legends” (Lennon, Janis Joplin, Hendrix and F. Mercury). All bad digital copies, I discovered. Up close, Freddie’s arm was a weird brocade pattern. Need I say more? (Yeah–someone really does not understand how to do a good scan and print of an ISO 400 b&w negative!!!)

I digress.

So anyway–

Ostensibly, I went in to the store to look at the prints more closely.

Spiritually, I needed the music and my OSC book and stuff like that. Heavy-duty symphonic.

I was clear that I could not buy anything, but the sound system looked interesting (very 50s, but not exactly retro). There was no one coming, it was noonish and lunch crowds moved blindly past the red-painted showroom. (Cadmium red with black floor, white ceiling and white couch.)

The salesman, Jorge Rodríguez, was a really nice and helpful young man. Offered to demonstrate the large white slab (on metal legs) in a corner, glistening like new plastic. (In fact, the finish is actually 8 coats of natural lacquer, polished between each application; also comes in black.) This thing is connected to an iMac desk computer (21″ monitor) in a nearby corner. I said great, and requested Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 2.”

The whole demo turned into a class on classical music, taught by me, in Spanish. (I can hear friends laughing about this. Don’t blame them.)

But first–the first playback system was Youtube, which very clearly can not handle the sound requirements of a full symphony orchestra. Within a few bars, I said no, this is too compressed.

The young man instantly switched to iTunes and I was surprised at the difference. iTunes could reproduce all the sound and distribute it as it was recorded (and engineered), so we continued with that.

Jorge could not find the concerto, but did lock onto the waltz from Act II of Swan Lake and turned up the volume. Much much better.

We did more Tchaikovsky and then I requested Wagner. I wanted the overture to the Ring Cycle, but Jorge couldn’t find it in “Essential Wagner.” (The Ring Cycle is not essential but Meisterssingers is!?)

But since I have the OSC playing Meisterssingers on tape (okay, bootleg edition; mine), I just shut up and listened. And suddenly, I was conducting it, with small movements of my left hand.

Completely surprised myself.

From there to a long discourse on Elvis, the Supremes, Barry Gordy, Jerry Lee Lewis, changes in US society as reflected in pop music and so on. This also included what  I listened to growing up–Bach at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church played on the immense pipe organ; the technical changes in sound reproduction (the Geneva system reverts BACK to old stereo–1 tweeter, 1 woofer in 1 cabinet); my father playing piano in the Music Room at 720* and realizing hehad grown up playing in a room designed especially for the pipe organ built into the western wall of his grandparents’ house; the piano and evening recitals also held there, given by professors from Michigan State’s College of Music; the acoustics of the junior high school; being in choirs; and having an aunt with pitch perfect hearing who played the organ as well.

And again, suddenly, I was breathless.

I grew up with music. It talks to me, feeds me, keeps me alive. The OSC book encompasses me, as a part of who I am and how I am formed and live and react.

But in the meantime–

The salesman at Geneva suggested I write a blog essay about changes in sound systems, the evolution of record players and recordings–from monophonic to mini-components and home theater and now, back to the original stereo with the Geneva system. I should do it as I have experienced them and how they reflected their social periods (socio-historical periods). Good idea. See Part II.

But other parts of the conversation at Geneva remain with me. For example–

Hitler liked Wagner because both were anti-Semitic, because Wagner’s storylines were nationalistic and because the music was and is uplifting.

But Hitler would never have seen or understood the social commentary latent in those same storylines, especially in the Ring Cycle (e.g., Siegried and Götterdämmerung). It’s pretty clear that Wagner wanted to keep women under fairly strict control (Brunnhilde, Isolde), so the question is, What was it about women that frightened Wagner? Hm. . .m. . .?

I mentioned to Jorge that  King Ludwig II of Bavaria was a patron of Wagner’s, as well as a kind of “swan fan.” He had a passion for swans and was pretty much (pretty closely) certifiably crazy (but not dangerous).

Wagner, on the other hand, was an over-the-top composer recognized as a genius.

The question(s) become(s)–how much of Ludwig’s “way out there” ideas or theories or fantasies were incorporated into Wagner’s work (in music or plotlines)? How free-wheeling would have been these conversations as they walked around Ludwig’s private parklands? How and where did Wagner incorporate the ideas or how was he inspired by these conversations? And finally (old question)–what separates Wagner’s genius from Ludwig’s insanity? (Possible answer:  Wagner kept control of his mind (able to exercise mental and emotional discipline and channel his energies into his work), while Ludwig could not, for various reasons. Also, the king was more or less straitjacketed by formal rites and expectations, while Wagner was not.)

Meanwhile–FF–the social impact of Elvis and other early rockers, as well as their musical impact, seem to remain difficult to explain or incorporate. Although Scott Joplin was a serious composer whose main body of work is still seen as pop, he should be included because ragtime was an early crossover from black audiences to white. Later on, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison, as examples, were men with clear talent but little education. They were indeed charismatic and inventive–whorehouse and honky-tonk music mixed with gospel and revival theatrics was presented to contemporary and educated white audiences, who were young and eager to have something different from their parents’ tastes. At the same time, church-going was still the norm, which meant exposure on a large scale to dead composers (Bach et al) and live “concerts” such as gospel choirs on Sundays.

Barry Gordy’s genius with Tamla/Motown was more than finding talented singers and songwriters. He took the singers to Detroit’s best stores for up-to-date clothing and hair styles. Diana Ross and the Supremes and I went to Saks Fifth Avenue and Jacobson’s of Michigan. Even my mother could tell you in which department of which store Miss Ross got the dress she wore on The Ed Sullivan Show or American Bandstand. I probably had one like it in my closet (different sizes, though). This dropped racial barriers faster than anything else, at least in the North. The southern states were still having problems, 100 years after the Civil War.

All this from about an hour and a half of conversation with a stranger concerning music, which is clearly more important to me than I had realized. Thank you for your time and interest, Jorge Rodríguez!

And also thank you to César, for the inspiration. Please feel free to tell me where I made mistakes in this piece, okay?

*”720″–My great-grandparents built a mansion in 1905 in Lansing, Michigan, whose address was 720 South Washington Avenue. Their daughter–my grandmother–inherited it in 1950, after their deaths. My brother, sisters, cousins and I grew up calling it simply “720” (seven-twenty). It was torn down in 1963 by the State of Michigan to make room for an expressway, even though land for the expressway was available one block to the south.

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved.

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Anniversary

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson – All Rights Reserved

This is not how I wanted this quick post to look but the cursor gets stuck at the end of the label so I have to start here. The rose will end up at the bottom. Sorry!

The roses seemed appropiate. On 9 May 1953, my mother Elizabeth Faye Powers (Anderson, divorced from) married Allen E. Conrad in a beautiful Episcopal ceremony at the Chapel of the Incarnation of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, on Ottawa Street, in Lansing, Michigan. The bride wore a ballerina length pink tulle and satin dress with a matching pillbox hat, pearls and gloves and shoes. The groom wore a dark suit. Their families were present and absolutely everyone smiled with love, happiness and best wishes.

My brother wore a dark suit with short pants (he was 6) and lucked out, along with future film director and producer John(ny) Hughes. (Yes, the same “Pretty in Pink” guy. No, the title does not refer to my mother that day.) It was sweltering, almost 90 degrees and, being Michigan, humid.

I had a pale blue organdy dress with white embroidery and a smocked bodice, custom made for me. I wore some artificial flowers in my hair, white anklet socks and white shoes. Guess what? I looked oh-so-adorable and felt oh-so-miserable! Organdy does not exactly breathe and someone forgot to line the dress, so the gathers inside scratched my all day long. In the pictures taken that day, I look like I want to burst into tears, and I probably did, but it was because of the heat, humidity and the dress. Otherwise, I was really happy because–FINALLY!!!–I would have what everyone else in my neighborhood had–a father! (My actual father, Mr. Anderson, was quite alive, and married by then to someone else.) Worse, we were living at the time in a really  nice (pretty, well-kept-up) CATHOLIC neighborhood. Everyone else had fathers. My brother and I did not, and in 1953, that just was not cool.

The wonderful reception afterward was at the Lansing Country Club and I won’t get into the details about it here. It was fun, though. My brother REO, me, Crickie (Christine) Hughes, her brother Johnny, their father (great guy!) and their mother (my mother’s matron of honor), plus many Anderson cousins (their parents were friends of my mother’s, regardless of the divorce) and meeting new Conrad cousins running loose in the well-manicured grounds of the club, plus food and I think we (as children) had ice cream. We had to have something–the heat was toasting us. Grown-ups had champagne. There was a buffet and then the wedding ccake was cut and served. There was dancing. Photos were taken.

Eventually, the newlyweds disappeared into someplace inside the club (don’t ask me where) and changed clothes. Then the entire wedding party with reception piled into those lovely huge 1950s cars (mostly Oldsmobiles, as Lansing was the number one “factory outlet”) and went off to Lansing’s Capital City Airport. The newlyweds were going to San Francisco for their honeymoon, flying from Lansing to Chicago on Capitol Airlines (“the Blue Goose”) to catch the flight west. I do remember Mom wearing an orchid corsage on her suit’s jacket. We all threw rice at the couple (and anyone who happened to be in range) as they left the terminal and walked to the DC-3 about 20 feet from the terminal. They waved from the door and the wedding photographer got that shot, too. (It’s in the album.)

No, REO and I were not abandoned in our new house in East Lansing. Mom’s mother and sister were with us, although my aunt had to return to her job in Houston after a few days. Nana stayed until Mom and our new Dad got back from San Francisco, bringing some interesting souvenirs.

By the time of my 8th birthday, 5 June, we had settled into life at 621 Rosewood. It was summer and we were a family. That was very cool.

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson. All rights reserved.

 

Rose Tondo #1 ('97)

This rose tondo is the first of two, with the flowers in oil and the surround in acrylic.

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