The weekend. The missing pieces had been broken. (A metaphor.):
The Harvey household tree was set up in record time.
After the recent redecoration of part of the house, familiar trophies of past experience were reinstalled – including the ‘miraculous’ horse chestnuts (December 14, 2015):
8.10 am: A communion. 8.45 am: A began a letter that I may never send. (I wrote it to myself, in the first instance, in order to exorcise a dilemma.) My battle to prevent email spam (which escalates at this time of the year) from entering my private mail account ended as a Pyrrhic victory. I’ve now closed the account.* Sometimes, to destroy something is the best and only response one can make. (A metaphor.)
By mid-morning I was back in the studio and into the 60-piece dislocation that I’d made Friday evening. Mercilessly, I cut into the ‘chaos’ composition, inserting fragments of the reordered text along the way. The initial draft revisions sounded far better than their component parts. That was a good beginning.
4.30 pm: Sundown:
Is ‘Yeh, yeh, yeh!’ the new ‘Absolutely!’? Where has this response (at one and the same time emphatic and impatient) come from? I hear it everywhere … catch myself slipping into it. We’re so prone to conformity: ‘Let your … yea be yea; Nay, nay’.
7.15 pm: I listened to the composition through headphones and tightened the whole. This was as good as the idea could get. Optimised. I could do no more. It was off the bench. In the background, the digital transfer of the vinyls for the book of Ruth to the close of 2 Samuel was completed. I’m now set to embark upon the final volume of the Scourby recordings.