The Delirium, Fever, and Odd Bits
August 1, 2006
What a few days it’s been. I left Africa for forty-eight hours and traveled into my mind and into music. I got hit with fever and have been a bit delirious – the women prayed for me, put wet towels on my body, and cracked my knuckles and toes – that together with some Advil seemed to bring my fever down. I’m on the end of day two of being inside in bed where I did lots of delirious thinking. I was told that I was talking to myself and I kind of remember making lists of regrets and things I am mot proud of in my life…….i don’t remember what I came up with.
The generator at Uncle’s house was turned on – It turns out that he is the Interior Minister for South Sudan, the Chief of Police for all of Sudan and a Major General in the army. He has been very ill and we have not been able to see him. We cannot leave Juba without his making the connections that we need nor get his blessings – which are quite important. Anyway, the generator was turned on and was able to charge the computer. The noise of the diesel generator is quite loud, but the bulbs begin to flicker and there is dull light and everyone charges their phones
I opened ITunes and turned on the visuals – I was mesmerized by the images and wondered who could have programmed this. It was a modern version of the Joshua light show that used to appear in the background of rock n’ roll shows at the Fillmore East in the East Village in the late sixties. It lacks the pot smoke-filled stoned-out atmosphere of the old Jewish Theater turned rock Mecca by Bill Graham (not Billy Graham the preacher), but Bill Graham, the rock producer who also opened the Fillmore West in San Francisco. I once served him chocolate egg creams back stage at a Rolling Stones concert long story.
I put on headphones and took a delirious tour through my musical collection consisting of 6300 songs on my computer and I Pod. I put it on random and it began with Roxy Music’s “Avalon” with Brian Ferry’s sultry voice accompanied by the crystal clear female backup vocalists, There are competent musicians in the band (though the drummer could have been replace by a drum machine) and the arrangements are a bit overdone, but the subtle use of the horns did it for me. I then listened to my favorite Dvorjak piece Romance in F Minor – with the crying violin dancing through the melody, reminding me of Rimsky Korsakov’s Scheherazade where the violin is the voice of Scheherazade in the Tale of A Thousand and One Nights. But my stream of consciousness took me to wanting to hear incredible violin that would make my body shiver not only from the fever. My father was a man of few words. I remember the times he beat me, but also the words of wisdom that he imparted on me. Not all were wise and many have gotten me in trouble but he was passionate about a few things in life. His voice would become human and filled with admiration when he spoke about certain things, actually only a few things. I remember becoming a democrat in 1960 – I was 4 and on Election Day the front page of the Daily News consisted of two large photos: one of Nixon and one of JFK. I asked my father who should be president. His voice changed to that soft voice and he said “Kennedy, he’s a Democrat and they’re good for the working people.” At his point, he had been in America for nine years and we were quite poor. Anyway, the other things that made him sound like a feeling human being were talking about Vic Rashie of the Yankee team before I was born (yes, and I became a Yankee fan), Pele, Placido Domingo, but most of all the way he spoke of Jascha Heifitz– the great violinist. He would say: You must listen to Yascha Heifitz, when he plays, fire comes out of the violin.” I think is also helped that Yashca Heifitz was a Jew like us – and he had made it. And so when I got older, I listened to Heifitz and last night I fed of his flames and they pour through me like sparks through my veins. I then moved to some rock n’ roll – letting the shuffle control the rest of the evening and Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground rocked on with an amazing guitar sole and I feel sorry for the hip hop generation who do not get to enjoy improvisations and jamming among musicians. I guess there is improv in the words and I just don’t get it enough. I listed to Roger Daltry (from the Who) backed up by an orchestra singing 5:15 from the Who’s Quadrophenia, only this time there were two horns caught up in improvisational dialogue which made me listen to this track over and over again. These two horn players were so locked in to each other. A bit raw, but so alive. As the shuffle continued, I listened to some jazz that was too clean for me until Miles and Coltrane came on. The piano of Dave Grusin is so proficient, yet too clean for me, as is George Winston. I had to manually switch to Keith Jarrett’s Köln concert to feel some piano from the heart. He does it for me every time in this CD and in another solo live concert which I have not been able to locate. It think it was in Bremen where Jarrett takes 20 minutes of teasing around a melody and improvising – dancing around it and playing parts of the melody and then retreats into his own world – his breaths audible….until he finally gets to it and there is a feeling of exhilaration.
Have just spent the past hour with Deng teaching him to write on the computer. He is a deaf mute and has never been to school. There are so few schools here, let alone schools for the hearing impaired. He has taught himself to read and write a bit, but does not know sign language or how to read lips. He has created his own sign language which friends and family – and now me – can understand. But the concepts are limited and his opportunities are limited here. Fortunately, he is loved by everyone – his is a gentle soul and I he really watches out for me. Uncle loves him, so I hope he will be taken care of. Uncle is currently looking for a wife for him. He will make a wonderful and caring husband, but the choice of wife will not be his. It will be a business transaction involving a woman and cows.
My head spins here because every decision has so many levels weighed into it. Political, religious, tribal, familial. The one thing that has been simple has been the appearance of a puppy at the compound. A puppy is a puppy. Okay, his name is the Arabic word for “south” – as in South Sudan…….can’t escape it all……
What a few days it’s been. I left Africa for forty-eight hours and traveled into my mind and into music. I got hit with fever and have been a bit delirious – the women prayed for me, put wet towels on my body, and cracked my knuckles and toes – that together with some Advil seemed to bring my fever down. I’m on the end of day two of being inside in bed where I did lots of delirious thinking. I was told that I was talking to myself and I kind of remember making lists of regrets and things I am mot proud of in my life…….i don’t remember what I came up with.
The generator at Uncle’s house was turned on – It turns out that he is the Interior Minister for South Sudan, the Chief of Police for all of Sudan and a Major General in the army. He has been very ill and we have not been able to see him. We cannot leave Juba without his making the connections that we need nor get his blessings – which are quite important. Anyway, the generator was turned on and was able to charge the computer. The noise of the diesel generator is quite loud, but the bulbs begin to flicker and there is dull light and everyone charges their phones
I opened ITunes and turned on the visuals – I was mesmerized by the images and wondered who could have programmed this. It was a modern version of the Joshua light show that used to appear in the background of rock n’ roll shows at the Fillmore East in the East Village in the late sixties. It lacks the pot smoke-filled stoned-out atmosphere of the old Jewish Theater turned rock Mecca by Bill Graham (not Billy Graham the preacher), but Bill Graham, the rock producer who also opened the Fillmore West in San Francisco. I once served him chocolate egg creams back stage at a Rolling Stones concert long story.
I put on headphones and took a delirious tour through my musical collection consisting of 6300 songs on my computer and I Pod. I put it on random and it began with Roxy Music’s “Avalon” with Brian Ferry’s sultry voice accompanied by the crystal clear female backup vocalists, There are competent musicians in the band (though the drummer could have been replace by a drum machine) and the arrangements are a bit overdone, but the subtle use of the horns did it for me. I then listened to my favorite Dvorjak piece Romance in F Minor – with the crying violin dancing through the melody, reminding me of Rimsky Korsakov’s Scheherazade where the violin is the voice of Scheherazade in the Tale of A Thousand and One Nights. But my stream of consciousness took me to wanting to hear incredible violin that would make my body shiver not only from the fever. My father was a man of few words. I remember the times he beat me, but also the words of wisdom that he imparted on me. Not all were wise and many have gotten me in trouble but he was passionate about a few things in life. His voice would become human and filled with admiration when he spoke about certain things, actually only a few things. I remember becoming a democrat in 1960 – I was 4 and on Election Day the front page of the Daily News consisted of two large photos: one of Nixon and one of JFK. I asked my father who should be president. His voice changed to that soft voice and he said “Kennedy, he’s a Democrat and they’re good for the working people.” At his point, he had been in America for nine years and we were quite poor. Anyway, the other things that made him sound like a feeling human being were talking about Vic Rashie of the Yankee team before I was born (yes, and I became a Yankee fan), Pele, Placido Domingo, but most of all the way he spoke of Jascha Heifitz– the great violinist. He would say: You must listen to Yascha Heifitz, when he plays, fire comes out of the violin.” I think is also helped that Yashca Heifitz was a Jew like us – and he had made it. And so when I got older, I listened to Heifitz and last night I fed of his flames and they pour through me like sparks through my veins. I then moved to some rock n’ roll – letting the shuffle control the rest of the evening and Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground rocked on with an amazing guitar sole and I feel sorry for the hip hop generation who do not get to enjoy improvisations and jamming among musicians. I guess there is improv in the words and I just don’t get it enough. I listed to Roger Daltry (from the Who) backed up by an orchestra singing 5:15 from the Who’s Quadrophenia, only this time there were two horns caught up in improvisational dialogue which made me listen to this track over and over again. These two horn players were so locked in to each other. A bit raw, but so alive. As the shuffle continued, I listened to some jazz that was too clean for me until Miles and Coltrane came on. The piano of Dave Grusin is so proficient, yet too clean for me, as is George Winston. I had to manually switch to Keith Jarrett’s Köln concert to feel some piano from the heart. He does it for me every time in this CD and in another solo live concert which I have not been able to locate. It think it was in Bremen where Jarrett takes 20 minutes of teasing around a melody and improvising – dancing around it and playing parts of the melody and then retreats into his own world – his breaths audible….until he finally gets to it and there is a feeling of exhilaration.
Have just spent the past hour with Deng teaching him to write on the computer. He is a deaf mute and has never been to school. There are so few schools here, let alone schools for the hearing impaired. He has taught himself to read and write a bit, but does not know sign language or how to read lips. He has created his own sign language which friends and family – and now me – can understand. But the concepts are limited and his opportunities are limited here. Fortunately, he is loved by everyone – his is a gentle soul and I he really watches out for me. Uncle loves him, so I hope he will be taken care of. Uncle is currently looking for a wife for him. He will make a wonderful and caring husband, but the choice of wife will not be his. It will be a business transaction involving a woman and cows.
My head spins here because every decision has so many levels weighed into it. Political, religious, tribal, familial. The one thing that has been simple has been the appearance of a puppy at the compound. A puppy is a puppy. Okay, his name is the Arabic word for “south” – as in South Sudan…….can’t escape it all……
posted by Charly at 3:57 AM
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