New Year 17

B Side

Knoxville Johnny

Nocturne - 8:21:17, 11.59 PM

Movement two from "turning the air blue" : blue skies

Elise Armstrong, Trumpet

turning the air blue mvt. 2 - blue skies

The 2009 2nd place winner of the Missouri State University "Top Composer" Challenge.



Everything is as it should be

Unweaving The Rainbow

“In the beginning I was so young and such a stranger to myself I hardly existed. I had to go out into the world and see it and hear it and react to it, before I knew at all who I was, what I was, what I wanted to be. . .I walked, all one spring day, upstream, sometimes in the midst of the ripples, sometimes along the shore. My company were violets, Dutchman’s-breeches, spring beauties, trilliums, bloodroot, ferns rising so curled one cold feel the upward push of the delicate haris upon their bodies. My parents were downstream, not far away, then farther away because I was walking the wrong way, upstream instead of downstream. Finally I was advertised to the hotline of help, and yet there I was, slopping along happily in the stream’s coolness. So maybe it was the right way after all. If this was lost, let us all be lost always. . .The water pushed against my effort, then its glassy permission to step ahead touched my ankles. The sense of going toward the source. I do not think I ever, in fact, returned home.” - Mary Oliver, Upstream

Upstream Loops

I haven't composed anything in quite awhile (besides academic papers), which makes me sad. So, I wrote some stuff tonight. I don't really care if you listen. :)

Who Cares If You Listen?

“Each breath is like a little rebirth, a renaissance that can only be celebrated if we recognize that it’s happening.” –Cristen Rodgers

You are alive. Breathe.

each breath

It's been a minute since I've posted a "New Year" track. Happy New Years, everyone. Big Love. <3

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Harry.Ward

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