The inevitable

I racked the Sorabji Stout I made last weekend, named for Kaihosru Sorabji, a composer I got interested in last weekend. Sorabji was a cranky composer of gigantic piano works. And why shouldn't he be cranky? He ended up in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest piano composition. No piano genius wants to find his place in history on the same page as the lady with the largest neck wattle. What I'm intrigued by is the connection of Guinness with world's records in general, which I don't understand. Undoubtedly there is some history behind it.

I also dealt with the inevitable. I can rarely bring myself to clean up the very same day as the brewing ordeal. My wife probably has her own entry in the Guinness book, under 'Tolerance', but even she feels strongly that the floor can only remain sticky for so long. But half an hour with mop and scouring pad and it's nearly back to normal.

I also paddled my kayak up the Willamette a bit this Sunday, in some light rain but not much. The water is very high and a few logs and other debris are washing down. I saw the mad dogman. Actually, he's a canoeist I see sometimes with his two dogs, often playing a harmonica. The canoeist plays a harmonica, not the dogs. The dogs look longingly at the shore. I can't speak for his musicianship, he may not even be playing a harmonica, though his hands are to his mouth, shaking the way these guys inject verve into their harmonica tone. But I can't hear him as I have Sorabji on my iPod - the first twenty-five of his one hundred 'Transcendental Etudes'.

Update - I've been meaning to add a link to Music is Your Only Friend, where I read about Sorabji. You can also hear some of his music there.