My meanderings through the chronological Wiki list of American composers, has unearthed many wonderful discoveries and not a small number of works that stru unmemorable. Typing here tonight, trying to keep Wechat messages and Whatsapp messages and Telegram messages and Slack message and text messages, and email whilst I listen to “Four Fantasies for Synclavier,” by Jon Appleton, odd, analog sounds and then I give in and answer the phone.
My dear old friend. He’d called last weekend when I was driving with the family and I texted: “mon frere, I’m driving,” which I probably shouldn’t have texted but it did. Well we just had a good long talk. I can forgive my rigor around writing for a properly interesting conversation. And my friend who is an iconoclast suggested his favorite president was Calvin Coolidge, whom he described in Daoist terms as a leader who was so good you didn’t even know he was there.
I had to get off that call though. And I won’t be doing any more writing for the next 90 minutes. I’m about to go off into the other room and tune in for this last debate between our wretched president and the former Joe Biden. The first encounter was so unerringly awful, my expectations, like those of everyone are low. At first, I was glad to hear that they will have a mute function this evening. And at the same time perhaps the best thing would be to just let the President go on and on and dig his own grave. I shall arise now and go watch with the family in the other room. I suppose I’ll close the loop with you all, after it’s done.
What a strange, wretched force Trump is. You can almost marvel at how hard he spins his horse shit and dodges responsibility and yells new things and tries to make them stick the way we all did when we were in middle school. And usually some teacher, some higher authority would come intervene and restore some form of normalcy. Not here. Braggart, bully, bullshitter, buffoon, bastard, bilious, bedeviled, bitchhopper. Begone!
There are many things that Joe is not. But his basic qualities: his unaffected decency, his elemental empathy, his fatigue with immaturity, radiate aglow like the Lighthouse of Alexandria. Trump did his best to tar Joe as a career politician. Bring it. Let’s have someone who’d made policy for forty-six years instead of four more years of Armature Night at the Apollo. I would have enjoyed watching Joe land a knockout blow. I would have been happy if Trump self-immolated with another unthinkable gaff. As is, we’re left with the dull hope that that light I saw brightly found warm reflection in some of those who still can’t make up their mind.
Thursday, 10/22/20
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