Bach | Bach

Jan.02.2013 The Neglected Sense On the Tube, the conductor's announcement is so loud, the sound is fuzzy and incomprehensible. I plug my fingers into my ears and meet the eyes of other passengers. They are impassive; their curiosity at my reaction, unemotional. In the street, the shriek of the ambulance...	Nov.03.2011 The Dungeon of my Black Despair What is it about Bach and organ music that makes it seems like Halloween? Or is it the tonal shadings and the image of Lon Chaney as The Phantom of the Opera? I don't know, but I bought an album with over 50 Halloween sounding classical pieces, and most of them are written for the organ. When I...
Mar.04.2011 O, to be in England The Heiligestadt Testament: BeethovenFor my brothers Carl and [Johann] Beethoven And for my Canadian father, who read aloud in the lamplit parlor from the English greats. Recited. Declaimed. All of that was in me years later when I rented a flat near the British Museum to do research and came upon...	Mar.01.2011 Dear Ramute Dear Ramute, I feel compelled to write to you to apologise for the accumulated debris of this household and for the fact that I have to ask you to come in and clean it all up. I want to ask forgiveness for the condition that you find it in. The small facets of debris that glare out at me like...
Mar.23.2010 Never say ''Last'' Moussaka and Bach may sound like an unlikely marriage but they happen to marry well in this kitchen tonight. Hubby calls it the 'Last Supper' and I wave my wooden spoon at him in a threatening manner. The sauce drips down onto my apron. Stains are permanent. Everything can be a first or a last...	Mar.11.2010 The food is in the telling Flock of birds in the evening sky catch my eye from where I stand at the kitchen window. Fluid yet without a pattern, I want when I first see them, to spread my arms out and ape their movements. But I am busy, weighing out four ounces of butter and two ounces of flour for the Fish Pie sauce that I...
Feb.12.2010 This Beautiful Place Harmony is Johann Sebastian Bach. He haunts the kitchen and the dining room and me. He flows and rises and falls into agreement and accord. It stimulates. I rise, lift my feet lightly to the sound of the music and thank the gods for this. For the woollen sweater that clads my body and the good meal...	Nov.22.2009 The Unrelenting Wind The one good thing about having the flu is that I get to stay in out of the cold wet day and don sweat pants and a massive shapeless old woollen cardigan that hangs below my knees and I get to drink tea and listen to Bach. From my stance at the table I can safely admire the sky that is a dark and...
Feb.09.2009 No thanks, Mr. Producer I felt a certain despondency today. I happened to be in Galway city to do a few errands, the shops were quite empty. I was looking for a warm sweater, something to throw on as an extra layer on my regular sojourns to the bog. I tried on a few Aran sweaters but the quality was bad and to make...	Nov.02.2008 Saint-Eustache, All Saints Yesterday was the Toussaint, All Saints, the day people take chrysanthemums to the cemeteries in France, and tidy up the family graves. Unless of course they come from far away--say, Africa or Asia--and family graves are a thing of the past. In Venice the vaporettos to the island cemetery of San...