I'm listening to Heinrich Schutz's Symphoniae Sacrae. I'd been listening quite a bit to Monteverdi over the last couple of weeks and Schutz seemed like a logical extension. Not as immediately gripping and sensual as Monteverdi, particularly his Un Concert Spirituel, but pleasant in its way. Not pleasant enough, as it happens, because I just switched back to Monteverdi. Eff you, Schutz-ey.
I finished The Dark Tower and it indeed was bittersweet. I know there were people who didn't enjoy the ending, but I think it's absolutely perfect. No other book of his that I've read ended as well. You pulled it off, King. Your Magnum Opus.
I walked over to Porter Square yesterday after yoga and meditation and I felt relaxed and open with still mind. I hit the bookstore and picked up a copy of Hesse's Siddhartha, which I'm about halfway through already. Hadn't read it in years; glad I thought to get it. I had been of a mind to read Narcissus And Goldmund, but there wasn't a copy at the store.
I ended up doing a lot of reading yesterday. I read from Mark Twain's The Mysterious Stranger and Other Stories, Edgar Allan Poe's Collected Works, and Siddhartha. It was an approach to reading I seldom engage in, this switching back and forth, but it worked rather well.
Feeling creative these last few days. I have a couple of new songs that I really like but need lyrics (big surprise). To ease the weight of expectation I put on myself, I've been plugging away at them in increments. I figure every time I spend time with them, no matter in which capacity, they're one step closer to completion. It's true: Idle hands are the devil's playthings.
Well, I should be off. There are things to do.
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