I’m chopping away at this on the last Monday in February, all the while considering, however far in the back of my head, that I’m about to, God willing, hit another birthday next week, on the first Wednesday of March. All night I’ve been listening to Estonian composer Arvo Pärt’s gorgeous Spiegel im Spiegel, one translation of which essentially describes mirrors trained at each other, creating an illusion — perhaps — of infinity. I haven’t tried that trick in a while, but I have seen my own reflection in the mirror, more or less daily as necessity and hygiene require, and I will say that it hits differently on my birthday. Because I am not just watching the (possible) optical illusion of infinity, but rather another marker: the milestone flash of a finite body traveling through infinity, with full awareness behind those familiar gray eyes looking back at me that we will not be encountering this experience indefinitely. The reflection of the mirror’s face in the carnal gloss of my eyes returns a diminishing image that, unlike the (possible) image of infinity in mirrors reflecting mirrors, has a nearing terminal point that will likely come long before anything of consequence happens in the vast material world. A day will come for all of us when reflection and beholder will not be unwrapping the gift of another year under the sun on what would have been the anniversary of our entrance into this unspeakably strange and beautiful existence. Our verbal and written language certainly isn’t infinite either, and I am now finding myself reaching the event horizon of human description, that pouring, yearning edge where everything we want to say is lost in the greater brilliant chaos of unspoken meaning. This is the point where the best attempt we have at saying something close to an invisible truth is a simple “Happy birthday.”
One of the writer’s central dilemmas is that the tools we use were not created to describe the whole of existence, or even parts of its basic nature. Therefore, we become more frustrated the closer we get to articulating a truth, hamstrung by our inability to speak of things just as they are, even if bits of us have come to understand some jigsaw shards of meaning. Happily, we have art and music, and perhaps most importantly, silence, to bookmark ourselves across the paths of infinity. They make up for the million missteps and divots where words fall short. It has been one of the great joys of my life to share with you, dear reader, so many of those divots: my failings, smashed windows, ruined images, and broken silences of expression, as I have struggled to express my thoughts on our shared chunk of the Great Being.
Have a lovely week, and if you are inclined to give me a birthday present, please do so as an act of kindness to some fellow creature out there trying to make it through our brief piece of infinity.
Thursday
It’s the last night of the Lost Coast Film Festival, a nearly month-long event that has been showcased among various SoHum and Shelter Cove venues. Tonight’s finale will be at 7 p.m. at the Gyppo Ale Mill. According to the press materials, submissions remain open to encourage local talent to flourish. I’m not sure if there’s a door charge but it couldn’t hurt to bring some dubloons for a refreshment of your choice.
Friday
The Westhaven Center for the Arts presents a birthday bash for local singer/songwriter Linda Faye Carson. The show will feature two groups she is associated with, LodeStar and 7th Generation Rise, both chock full of talented musicians and on that vibe that spans the expressway from the deep roots of the earth and out into the far reaches of the cosmos. The fun starts at 7 p.m. at Trinidad Town Hall and has a sliding scale door price of $5-$20.
Saturday
The Siren’s Song remains open and as long as that remains the case, I will be discussing the gigs there, as we need to hang onto our quirky venues for as long as we can. Once gone, they don’t tend to return, nor does the gap left in their wake ever seem to be sewn up. Tonight’s show is another birthday party, this time for Benji from The Flying Hellfish, who will be joined by fellow rockers Dead Drift, Imperial Destructo and Berk and the Jerx. Quite a line up, and there’s no fee at the door, so when you roll through at 7 p.m., you can fan your bills at the bartenders and support the joint.
Sunday
In deference to different voices and live theatre, I will mention two gigs happening today, Terry Baum’s Lesbo Solo: A Gay History Play at the EXIT Theatre at 3 p.m., and Rebecca McGlynn’s Asexuality: The Musical at the Arcata Playhouse at 7 p.m. Both shows are $20, and might provide a nice counterpoint to the megaton celebrity event called the Oscars that much of America will likely be watching. As a point of personal interest, I must mention that the recently late David Lynch’s ’90s distorted hellhammer flick Lost Highway will be shown at the Arcata Theatre Lounge at 5 p.m. ($8, $12 with a poster).
Monday
πr2 is a multi-media performance of dance — aerial and otherwise — and theater performed solely by women, a trio of international performers, Catalina Nicoletti, Pia Nicoletti and Borja Caraval, all of whom have been crafting their art for most of their lifetimes. It certainly looks like an interesting event, and 8 p.m. isn’t too late for a Monday in my view ($20).
Tuesday
The Old Steeple and the Eureka Chamber Music Series have come together to present the Balourdet Quartet, an award-winning group of musicians who will be both performing a program of music and curating a panel talk about music, art and freedom in society. The evening’s musical centerpiece is avant garde composer Steve Reich’s “Different Trains,” a piece that explicitly evokes World War II and the Holocaust. 7:30 p.m. ($11).
Ash Wednesday
Portland, Oregon’s Rose City Band is a big sound/small stage experience, where founder Ripley Johnson turns the notion of the afternoon backyard jam into a massive landscape of sound, conjuring vast vistas filled with the inscrutable symbols of untamed nature. It’s really gorgeous stuff and a perfect band for a perfect venue like the Miniplex, where they will be setting up shop at 8 p.m. with dreamy tourmates Itasca. Fair warning, this one might sell out, so consider grabbing a $15 advance ticket rather than relying on the $20 door price.
Collin Yeo (he/him) was born an earthling and would like to remain one for the rest of his life.
This article appears in ‘Breathing Room’.