Last night saw the first “listening room” in Imugan, I believe, ever. A slightly captive audience and I listened to Miles Davis’ "Kind of Blue". It was a bit disjointed of a presentation as no one attending had ever a.) listened to jazz before, and were therefore had no reference for any significant aspect of the music, instrumentation, or personnel or b.) listened to music in an appreciative or understanding manner, as music is predominately distilled through pop radio. I would say that the interest level in the experiment was about 25% favorable, and 75% ambivalent. I predict that the next several listening rooms will see a precipitous drop in attendance, but also a significant rise in the interest of those attending. This is just fine with me. I’d rather hang out with three or four really interested people than twenty-five “I’m only here ‘cause I have to be’s.”

The supreme upshot of this experience is that my musical muscles are being exercised in a way not seen since college. Actually, this may be even more beneficial as the music and concepts pursued already have a firm foundation upon which a deeper understanding and familiarity is developing. Deepness isn’t something that, I think, is often found in college; it is too tumultuous and varied an experience for that. Necessary yes, but deep, probably not. Currently I’m debating what the next room will cover – probably Jazz more so than Classical at this point. For people who have never used their ears and mind together, Classical may be too far out of reach. As ever, the future remains to be seen.

The oven continues to dry, and to acquire larger and larger cracks in the structure. The folks that came to help me had a hard time slowing down their work style, which has contributed to the formation of large cracks. The proper technique would probably entail layering small amounts of cob (clay, sand, straw, and water mixed) and really pressing them together, rather than slopping on huge globs of the stuff and pounding it. The former ensures that the layers integrate, while the former probably just covers a lot of area quickly. That we used soil from another site for the last two layers probably contributed to the cracks as well (too much clay means the sand doesn’t touch = large cracks). The nice thing about building a mud oven is that when the cracks form, you just stuff some more mud in there, and the problem is solved. These developments all serve a greater purpose as this oven is an experiment – observing what happens to this mud pile will help build a better mud pile the next time around.

The dance group’s performance came off well. They still need work, especially in the “drama” department. While they act well enough, the story just wasn’t very dramatic, and a bit boring. There wasn’t enough time to try and change things before yesterday’s presentation, but there is now.

While waiting for the group to perform the Chief of Police came up to me and asked to take a picture. Having, as a foreigner, your picture taken with strangers isn’t a rare occurrence; in this case, Roy and I were to be recorded as a “distinguished guests” in their log books. Talk about privilege. I’m just glad that along with being a “distinguished guest” (by the perceived virtue contained in our wallets) sitting in the VIP seats at the front of the stage didn’t soon follow. That’s happened before too, and it is definitely not a privilege. Imagine sitting in front of a thousand people, who in all likelihood are paying more attention to you than the performance, for five hours straight. If you’re especially unlucky, you might be asked to sing a song. No thanks.

Happy Birthday Ann.