East of....hmmm. Eden?

East of Eden is the novel that I have been reading. It is one of Steinbeck's finest, and it is probably one of the best books I have ever read. The character development is unparalleled; I am afraid that he so accurately uncovers the wickedness of the human heart (especially the FEMALE human heart) that I will be driven to avoid becoming friends with any more women to avoid entangling myself with one of his characters. I have about fifty or so pages left, and I'm thinking about staying up later than 2:30 A.M. to finish it.

I have been home from school for about two weeks now, and once again all the critics in my mind agree that Sumter, SC is the most recuperative place for my soul to exist. Not much can surpass the warmth of family and friends coupled with the time to pursue non-mandatory things that actually, dare I say it, are enjoyable to me? Today the life of Michael Kendall looked like this:

Wake up around 9-9:30.
Eat breakfast with Mom in front of the fireplace.
Shower, change clothes.
Change oil on my car (while narrowly avoiding destruction when my car fell with me underneath it).
Make sculpture with my stick welder.
Practice piano.
Read Steinbeck.
Practice more piano.
Read more Steinbeck.
Take Sarabeth out for a smoothie.
Watch a movie, have a smoke, go to bed.

Please, contain your jealousy. Feel free to stop bye, I would love to entertain you. I think tomorrow I am going to go shoot guns in a field. By myself.

Still life with Apples on a Pink Tablecloth

This painting is one of my favorites. It reminds me of home by way of reminding me of mother. She is a watercolor painter and can recreate beautiful still life's in almost as fair a fashion as Matisse. At this point in time it is Sunday afternoon on December the eighth. I have only 2 exams left and there is only half a paper left to type. Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel. On Monday I will turn in 6 project analyses for Music Theory, a paper for Music Theory, and a final project, also for music theory. I didn't think I would finish this last week alive. I have been getting 3 or 4 hours of sleep consistently for a week now, and I am more than ready to break that pattern. As I sit here at my desk with my Henri Matisse still life on the right and my favorite novels and texts directly above, I find myself wanting to crawl in side one of their stories, or to try and reach into his painting and grab one of the apples and taste it's brilliance for myself. When one is constantly engaging in academic toil for two, three weeks at a time with hardly the spare second to think, they become covered with what I would define as the academic sweat. It is an exoskeleton made up of runoff from fluorescent lighting, computer screens, and dusty books in rickety study carrols. It diminishes the subject's ability to sample the brilliance of existence by distracting him with the mundane. This is not so much a tangible physical film that can be washed with soap and water, it is more a mental cloud that descends upon the subject of toil and doesn't leave until that individual is displaced into an atmosphere of calm, peaceful thoughtlessness. Thoughtlessness in the sense that results for an absence of scholastic toil and hardship. I cannot wait to return home to peaceful Sumter and engage the minds of my family with the acumen I have accrued this semester. I also can't wait to not have to think about whether or not I can afford (timewise) to blog...

The Long and Winding Road....that leads...

Im not sure. I know that this world is not where my soul was ultimately designed to exist, and as days go by I am becoming more and more aware of that fact. Being a student of music I am discovering daily how far away I am from knowing even half of what there is grasp sonically and theoretically about the subject. The liberal arts provides welcome respite, but I often find myself feeling bogged down and overwhelmed with daily assignment, papers, lessons, etc. My relationships fail, my mind fails, and most of all my faith falters. It is so difficult to accept the reality of my deprivation. When I spend time dwelling on my state, I grow sick and tired of mentally listening to myself gripe about my problems. Im out of money, out of time, and out of love. I need not try and separate myself from this snapshot of Michael's life, because in reality it is the most accurate picture that any artist could paint. I am sick, sinful, self-absorbed, and lost. I need to learn to cling to he who is greater than the world. Im adding these, the tiresome words of a college student who, like the majority of those in his similar stage of life, is feeling down. I hope it doesn't come across as elctro-garbage.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

For the past two months I have been putting the finishing touches on a piece I started writing last semester. It is a choral piece written for an SSA choir and a percussion ensemble. The text I set was Shel Silverstein's "Where the Sidewalk Ends". I took a somewhat different approach to writing this in that I have chosen to write the score out by hand and include colors and illustrations on each page of the score. These are intended to help guide the performer in his or her interpretation of the piece, and will hopefully add a little more freedom to the piece itself and to the way the conductor/ensemble approaches it. More to come as I finish it up completely and have it performed/published.

P.S. I will be entering this piece in a Young Composer's Guild Competition at UT in Knoxville in November. Sir!

Where the magic happens...

Just thought I would expose the world wide web to my current place of residence. It is here that Pascal wrote his thoughts, where Edison made his light bulb, and where Dan and I get our chill on daily. Feel free to stop by anytime.this couch was 20 bucks.

Poor, and not poor, music.

Checkthis. It is a pretty accurate and very humorous review of the wanna-be party rock band Jet's new album "Shine On".

After you've done that, go to the hype machine and look up Magic vs. Midas, the second track off of Sunset Rubdown's new album. Stellar!

Phil Collins, gorilla style.

This is just a really cool video. I only hope that I play the drums with such convincing amounts of energy and passion.

Booom