Monday, July 30, 2007

Muse-ic School


Coyotes midnight
clamoring by the
out houses on
Ruins Trail.

Katydids grinding
9 to 5 am:


Back to school.

From Latin. schola
“leisure” Greek: skhole:
“a holding back,” stop, rest,
"leisure time taken for the practice
of dispute."

Like Kierkegaard, she practiced
the paradox of its being easier for
a non-Christian to become a
Christian, than for a “Christian”
to become one.”

Leslie Fiedler describing Simone Weil
& the notion applies to industrialized
school-ership: easier for a non-school-er
to become a school-er than a scholar to
become one: practicing leisurely dispute
like coyotes, katydids, & cicadae singing
out long summer afternoon’s delight, early
evening & small morning hours cranking
& ratcheting for the sake of argument.

I know school: been there; done that most
my life: public, private, boarding, day, night:
taught 7, 8, 10, 1l, 12th & filled-in with 4th.
Paddled by principals, suspended for smoking,
forced to switch handedness so as to fit a left-
brained world, cheated thru h.s. math & biology,
graduated college with a quality point grade
average right smack exactly in between an
equal amount of dumb & dumber as
smart & smarter: making me
a mean & average guy.

Capt. Miles Standish
“The Hero of New England
His grand descendant Miles the 8th
provided insight into math and
biological examinations for me.
We called him “Dish” in school &.
at the bowling alleys.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and
louder sing For every tatter in its
mortal dress, Nor is there singing
school but studying Monuments of
its own magnificence; And therefore
I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium

I teach music at Music School. We don’t
play music per se. We study it. We study
musicians & their music. We study people
who have studied musicians & their music,
but we don’t play music. This is music
school. Not play. There’s a difference.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in
a gyre, and be the singing masters
of my soul. Consume my heart away;
sick with desire and fastened to a
dying animal: It knows not what it is;
and gather me into the artifice
of eternity.

I teach singing at singing school.
We don’t sing at singing school.
We study singing: singing &
people who have studied
singing themselves, but
don’t themselves sing,
sang, sung seeing
as this is singing
school. Not
singing per

Stealing & sampling & juxtaposing
Yeats & Leslie Fiedler re Simone
Weil reconfigured to fit my screen
& always always for the sake of
argument: any leisure time
disputation worth disputing
before school starts and
then no time & what’s
a college for?

xxxooo, Sam

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