So I’m working on that irish piece with poem by Dairena Ní Chinnéide. It’s called “Ciúnas.” I’m having a really hard time with it right now for one main reason. There’s a line in the poem that says, “Ciúnas i mo cheann,” which basically translates to “Quiet in my head.” It is NOT quiet in my head right now.
I try and compose from what I refer to as “the concert hall in my head.” Right now it’s occupied with a bunch of other stuff. With so many things distracting me, I hardly have anytime for myself to sit quietly and listen. Maybe I should drive up to Midway this weekend or Payson lakes. I don’t know.