Last night was our first night in a new condo – a fabulous space we just closed on in a historic downtown building. We spent the night on an airbed that we’ll soon retire for guests; we don’t have much else here except the makings for coffee, as the movers are scheduled to do their thing on Monday. One exciting factor of the move is that the vantage point for my music making will shift. Though I have yet to bring my violin over, when I do it will get a permanent home – we have enough space that some of it can be dedicated to making music.
But changing spaces in this political climate has been surreal – indeed we will have a new kind of man at the top. His party, one that will now control the entirety of the federal government, contains millions of people who believe Michael and I should be second-class citizens, people who believe that trans folk are some kind of monsters. The man himself, ironically, seems to have no animus toward gays per se. But he sure knows how to scapegoat – the animus he speaks confidently toward Mexican and Muslim and Black lives has at times left me literally gasping and speechless. He is the worst objectifier of women – half of our population – that I’ve personally evaluated.
The day after the angry, fearful American masses (with a little help from the electoral college system) summed up their grievances by elevating this man to the most powerful office in the world you could hear a pin drop in Chicago.
And then on my way home from a meeting last night I learned that Leonard Cohen has died – a man whose music and journey have inspired me. 82 years is a good run; few have impacted as many people with music as much as he did. The New York Times this morning recalled the marketing of the 1970s, which billed the skilled lyricist as “the master of erotic despair.” His final album, just released, is entitled You Want It Darker. The title seems a fitting parting shot – a commentary on our political times. When next I pick up my instrument you can be sure I’ll dedicate my playing to Cohen. Today he gets the last word:
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Thanks for reading.