Blazing Goat Day

Inspired by arson in Gavle, Sweden, St. Louis Pagans gather each year to herald Spring by burning a straw goat. Actually, it's more accurate to say a goat-like form with some straw on it or in it. This was the fourth year of this new tradition.

This year's goat was the creation of the Woodman, and we teased him pretty hard about it. He can take it. It suffered a hump in its back that made it look a bit like a camel. The first goat was an unstable pile of straw somehow shaped into the general form of a goat. Year two, was a plywood-cutout on a sawbuck, but it was so damp that year that even a blowtorch and a whole bottle of torch fuel failed to ignite the effigy, so year three was the same goat. It burned that year. The Queen of Jefferson County Trailer Trash had no problem igniting the Woodman's work, and the small gathering watched as the straw quickly burned away.

In the past, we've had a Goat Queen, but the ritual aspect of the tradition has been in decline. Instead of a high priestess of the goat this year, we designated Wifey as the Goat Queen, and dedicated its destruction to her recovery. She's been in the hospital for several weeks; as Spring Blooms, so may her health.

Tonight at Powell Hall

A strange thing happened at the office today. I got a call from the Powell Hall box office. Thinking they were going to put the squeeze on me to decide on next year's season ticket, I asked my secretary to take a message. As it turned out, they wanted to 'upgrade' my seat. In hindsight, I think 'upgrade' was code for "we can sell a pair of seats if we move you somewhere else". I think my original seat would have been better.

Tonight, the St. Louis Symphony performed with Hubbard Street Dance Chicago. So, I figured, no problem, they'll scoot the orchestra back and dance up front. Nope. They built a stage extension and 'wings' out of convention center partitioning--lots of black burlap and a touch of red velvet for style. My seat looked right into a wall of black. I couldn't see the orchestra at all, and only about two thirds of the stage. The orchestra was on a raised platform behind the dance floor.

The performance, or what I could see of it, was stunning. The opening piece was a post-modern rendition of Bach, using movements from the Brandenburg Concerti and cello and harp solos from some other suites. It was my least favorite of the four pieces in the concert. Boys in fey little doublets and girls in flouncy skirts pranced around the stage with rather militaristic gestures. There was some kind of story about the court jester being shunned then accepted by the courtesans and an interesting, tho chaste, strip tease in which one of the girls lost her sleeves and skirts. In one impressive move, the boys lifted her and spun her head over heels in a sort of slow-motion back flip as they carried her downstage. You'd have to see it. She floated as if defying gravity.

First intermission.

The second part of the concert featured Stravinsky and Bernstein. The dancers didn't participate in the Stravinsky, but the orchestra nailed it like the pros they are. 'Three Pieces for Clarinet' showcased the remarkable skill of Scott Andrews, who awed a restless audience into silence; 'Symphonies of Wind Instruments' showcased the Symphony's greatly improved horn section delivering a great performance. But all this paled as Hubbard Street took back the stage for Bernstein's 'Prelude, Fugue, and Riffs'. First let me say that I haven't explored much of Bernstein's music due to a fear of the atonal, but this piece was astounding--lively and timeless, showing the best potential of Jazz. The dancers, though, brought it to life in a kind of jitterbug on crack. It was synchronized hopping, or Irish dance without the kicking, that framed some dynamic choreography that truly expressed the character of the music. All dressed in identical business suits, the cast came alive for this piece much more than they had for the Bach.

Second intermission.

Bolero. We've all heard it, many of us are preternaturally fascinated with it. I'm one of those. I almost jumped out of my shoes when I saw the poster proclaiming 'Hubbard Street Dance Chicago/ Bolero'. I thought, OMG! they're going to dance Bolero! No such luck. It was a heartbreak to read nothing following 'RAVEL: Bolero (1928)' at the end of the program; no dancers, no choreographers, no lighting designers. I was faced the with prospect of staring at black burlap while sound wafted from the mysterious hidden platform where the chorus usually sits. It brought back memories from earlier in the season when a great mezzo performed on a bill that included the Liebestod, only she didn't sing the Liebestod, it was the abominable and useless orchestral version--just like the prospect of Hubbard Street dancing Bolero, it was a tease.

But, alas, they moved the chairs forward and I got to watch a second violinist toy with her neighbor, teasing him about not being able to see the conductor, trying to steal his bow, kicking his shoe. It was cute. It was virtually all I could see; but I don't want to dwell on my bad seat.

The audience was incredibly rude, coughing and fidgeting as David Roberson presided over the first muted bars of Bolero. The air conditioning was louder than the snare drum. I could barely hear the opening rendition of the melody. Bolero droned on. But this was not your garden variety Bolero. This was a Bolero that built slowly and steadily, with a subtlety you wouldn't think an orchestra of this size could achieve. You know how the rhythm shifts from instrument to instrument? And you know how on every recording you've ever heard, you know exactly when that shift takes place? None of that was audible in Powell Hall tonight. The rhythm and melody alike snuck around the orchestra and popped up in surprising places. Yes, this is Bolero, possibly the most over-played piece of classical music ever, and it sounded like I have never heard it before or ever dreamt it could sound. Those pesky transitions that mar every performance I've ever heard were gone. By the time my second violinist had to pick up her instrument and leave her stud muffin alone in favor of teasing out the rhythm, the audience was rapt. Everybody knew they were hearing the best performance they'd ever hear of this piece.

Campaign Irony

In boasting of all he's done for the city's neighborhoods, Mayor Slay's campaign commercial cuts to a scene of a brick wall falling under the bucket of a caterpillar.

Why doesn't he just do a montage of the Century Building coming down?

Urban neighborhoods depend on density for stability, so this is just another example of the cluelessness of our elected officials.

By the way, I'm not saying any of his opponents will be any better. Our politicians are dismally ignorant when it comes to building a sustainable, vibrant city, pretty much across the board. This especially applies to the aldermen in our most successful historic districts.

A Word on the St. Louis Public School System

Does the administration building have lead water pipes or what?

What agenda underlies the special adminstrative board's assinine proposals?

Someone suggested to me recently that the Powers-That-Be want to destroy the public school system because it would be easier for them to control a less-organized collection of charter schools. I'm no conspiracy theorist, but this is St. Louis, after all.

Most assinine of all is to build new elementary schools in a district that already has too many buildings for its current population, one of which would replace Mann School in Tower Grove South. WTF? Have they seen a modern school building?

Less assinine, but equally appalling, is the deed restrictions to forbid charter schools in the buildings they close.

Oh yeah, that's right, it's only been a few years since they gave away the breath-takingly beautiful Stix School, and the charming Michael School to Barnes Hospital and replaced them with a gyp board box. Lead in their water is the only possible explanation for their mental lapses.

That, or none of them have had a good education.

Our school buildings are among our great acheivements as a city. It seems to me that the board could put them to better use; lease them out to generate income; invite our colleges and universities to make more use of them; tap the growing need for professional continuing education and involve corporations in supporting these critical neighborhood institutions.

Maybe if the board showed some imagination, we'd have a good school system.

Let's not hold our breath.

Destructive Stimulus

MODoT just doesn't get it. It's proposing to toss a paltry sum at the city of St. Louis to repave Memorial Drive, and spend a massive amount of money extending highway 141 in northwest St. Louis County. The bulk of the funds would go into rural highway projects. In other words, stimulus funds intended to boost the economy are going to be thrown away on the wasteful practices that got us into this mess in the first place.

Repaving Memorial Drive will do nothing to boost the economy. It is a place devoid of anything but motorists moving between freeways and that offers no opportunity for other development. Extending 141 will certainly lead to development, but it will be the same old story of new strip malls and big-box retail that will suck the life out of strip malls and big-box retail in other parts of the county. Suburban sprawl can only sustain itself on the constant duplication of existing infrastructure; there's just not enough population to support the rapidly expanding amount of commercial space that is cluttering the suburban fringe. MODoT's plan plays right into this wasteful cycle by opening new tracts of north county to developers who will build the boxes, take the profits, and disappear with the asphalt compactors.

The stimulus funds offer an opportunity to build the 14th Street Metrolink line, which will draw vital investment into North St. Louis and promote the development of sustainable commercial space that will actually feed neighborhoods instead of bleed them dry. Improvements to rail service between the state's major cities could relieve pressure on the interstates. A high-speed train between St. Louis and Kansas City would go a long way to creating sustainable freight and passenger transportation in Missouri, and bolster smaller cities along the way, such as Fulton, Columbia, and Sedalia. Instead of drawing traffic out of the small towns of Missouri, as the interstates do [just look at the tawdry development at every exit ramp], a rail line would spawn freight transfer depots in the decaying industrial districts of town all along the line, and bring visitors into the depots of downtowns that desperately need investment.

Last time I was in northwest St. Louis County [and I avoid it], it didn't strike me as a place that needs stimulus. Last time I walked Memorial Drive [which everybody avoids], it struck me as a place that needs massive redevelopment to turn back over to the pedestrians who sustain urban cores, not a place that needed to accomodate more cars.

Thoughts That Occur in the Shower

I realized this morning what's the problem with America's economy, as horror struck at the thought that the 'rescue plan' will only worsen the situation.

America has destroyed its engines of economic growth. Jane Jacobs eloquently explained it to us nearly sixty years ago: cities are the primary source of economic strength. But in America, we have utterly wasted most of our real cities with suburban sprawl. We have funneled resources into a wasteful infrastructure that depends on a self-devouring cycle of constant redevelopment to sustain itself.

So, what's America's plan to pull itself out of this failing economy? Roads. An 'economic expert' on the Today show this morning stated that in order for the stimulus funds to have maximum effect on the economy, a large portion of them must be spent on new infrastructure that will stimulate new development. In other words, more new roads into virgin forests and undeveloped farmland; more big box retail and strip malls; more roads, sewers, and power lines that we won't be able to afford to maintain and will strap local governments with costs that will siphon funds away from sensible development.

If we don't break this cycle now, it will only continue to suck us into oblivion.

Dante, meet President Obama.

The Book of Baddite On-Line

I've started to invite readers into the inner sanctum of the Church's blogosphere: The Book of Baddite and Other Writings of the Church of Bad Tim of Latter-Day Reincarnates.

So far, I've only written three of the parables and the Creation myth that opens the Most Holey of Scriptures. Some of the other parables have preliminary drafts or sketches.

My first novel attempt, 'Nine Women' is also there; I'm considering rewriting and condensing this as the series of nine personal parables. As a free-standing novel, it needs considerable revisions.

'tUmarO is unuthur dA', my 2008 NaNoWriMo entry is posted there as well. This is the preliminary draft of what will become 'Myth', the story that launched the CBTLDR. I had been working on other things in preparation for this story, but as I consider editing this fragment of it, I've realized that it won't seem complete without the rest of the story.

If you are interested in reading this material and lambasting your Prophet's writing skills, e-mail me from the address you would like to use to access the BoB.

NaNoWriMo is over...

and I don't know what to do with myself.





Suggestions gratefully accepted.

NaNoWriMo - tUmarO is unuthur dA - Introduction

[this is my entry for national novel writing month. it will probably be broken into several pieces. rants will resume in december.]

It was a concert that changed the fate of a world: opening night 2005 at Powell Symphony Hall in St. Louis. Of course, I had no idea about that as I parked Sergei the pickup on Grandell Square and walked up to the hall, puffing a cigarette on an unseasonably crisp September evening. It promised to be an exciting concert, since it was David Robertson's debut in his official duties as Music Director of the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, but I was skeptical because the program was one of obscure classics and modern pieces. Hans Vonk didn't challenge us with the modern; he was a fine classicist who maintained the Symphony's reputation and presided over financial crises.

This new, young guy, barely older than myself, was a maverick by comparison. His debut program was a manifesto. I thought, I can at least support them with a subscription, but I don't have to like the music. Robertson was a favorite of the musicians; he had led them before. He came with a fine international reputation as a Musician to Watch. All the swells in St. Louis were knocking themselves over to welcome him, and I must admit, I was a little excited to see where he'd take our orchestra. His opening night program impressed me for its stark departure from the programming of his predecessor, but I just couldn't tolerate the 12-tone crap that had been the standard fare of modern symphonic music. I showed up for the pre-concert lecture expecting to hear justifications and apologies for the state of modern music.

Robertson was an engaging speaker, and nothing like you'd expect from a dedicated musician. He spoke Brokaw American. One was accustomed to deciphering accents at these talks, and struggling to understand sentences littered with obtuse musical jargon. This wasn't the case with our new conductor. He defined the musical jargon he used, he illustrated the pieces he spoke about in plain language with a humorous flair, he hummed. He played a boom box. I thought that the ghosts of Powell Hall must be looking down their noses; that the swells in the loge must be feeling disenfranchised. It was nice. I was still skeptical about the music.