Trips to the Academy, as I mentioned in my last post, and a church service, managed to pry me from the apartment's vise grip. The church service was done out of courtesy to the director of our school. Normally we would not attend, but she invited and out of friendship we assented. There is much about Christianity that I dig: the love your neighbor aspect, holding onto a faith in goodness in the face of evil and adversity, etc. So I try to focus on those things any time I find myself in a church, and forget the associations I have with fear mongering southern pulpit punchers of my childhood. It was easy, this time, because I really couldn't understand the sermon. It's easy to tune out Portuguese, which is a blessing and a curse.
I have been listening to Bach lately--Brandenberg concertos, The Art of Fugue, and at this very moment some keyboard concertos. This particular CD has been with me for years. I used to wake up to the opening track (Clavier Concerto #1, Allegro, played on piano by Murray Perahia) every morning. I'm not so much of a classical aficionado to be able to name most pieces, but a few pieces are always reverberating somewhere in a drawing room of my subconscious. Therefore I can name them immediately whenever they turn up unexpectedly (unexpectedly--I'm sure it's rarer to hear a piece of classical music in public than in my childhood, which wasn't all that long ago, while we're bombarded by rock, inane pop, hip hop, club music, etc. ) My first year in Boston, some friends and I saw the Mexican film Battle in Heaven that was screened as part of the Boston Underground Film Festival. It was terrible. But there was one scene in which the first movement of the first clavier concerto by Bach played in, at all places, a gas station. I nearly when crazy, having a Proust-cookie moment, flashing back to every morning I used to wake up to that piece of music. I couldn't help but tap my feet and kind of hum along.