The Selected Letters of John Cage. John Cage

words, and the result is that it is overpoweringly expressive. The melody is simply an atmosphere which floats. The accompaniment is a continuous juxtaposition of square simplicities. But the combination is of such grace! Three pieces: the first is after a banquet, and Socrates is merely introduced by a little speech which rather completely avoids any profundity. The second piece is in the country, and Socrates and his companion talk about the history of the spot and how delightful the air and grass is, and there is a slight suggestion that following the conversation they lie down together on the grass. The third piece is a report of the death of Socrates, little things he said, little things the jailer said, how it was when he drank the poison and only at the very end is it finally said that he was “the most just, etc. great of men.” Sometimes I played it while Virgil tortured the air with song; mostly, however, he preferred to both play and sing, while I turned pages. We also went thru Four Saints, Filling Station, a piano sonata, a good deal of Mozart; and one evening The Perilous Night.¹¹¹ Virgil went into ecstasy which will not get into print. I am genius, and everything i write is fine he says and he says related to great things, etc. I cannot remember it all. Who cares?

      Country was beautiful, and lying on the grass so that i could sometimes see the net a tree is against the sky or turning make a space for eyes between two trees and watch bird-movements across and in it. Beautiful daisies and a jungle of tiger lilies. Multitudinous lakes and canoes. I could tell how distinctly happy you would be in country wherever; and i really need not be with you for me or for you, because there was facility in inventing your presence and knowing that just then you were merely not visible or not audible.

      To Merce Cunningham

       [Undated, postmarked July 12, 1944] | 12 E. 17th St., New York

      au prince delicieux.

      your last letter is so beautiful i cannot answer it, only read it and lie on it.

      music going beautifully, peace and fluently; i will hear it again tomorrow, but this time with fizdale because he senses phrase which gearhart does not know.

      saw king’s row¹¹² which is very fine. went to amagansett and ny coktail group. swam in ocean and now have night-itchy sunburn. bicycled all over small hills.

      i have two movements finished: seven to go; i think i have not written so well before. heard berg’s violin concerto reading score as record played at lou’s. it is very beautiful except when it gets chewingummy re intervals (da da da de; da da da do).

      Did you meet the Cages in Denver?

      bell sounds will enter now with crossing of the hands; utter grace is the goal.

      the heat is not too bad and besides I live in the nude;

      do beauty work (another secret: inexpressivity)

      i am often in deep pain; i am afraid i am not human being

      i talk to you all day long but when i start to write i cannot

      To Merce Cunningham

       [Undated, postmarked July 20, 1944] | 12 E. 17th St., New York

      Monsieur:

      my muse fluidity continued and 4 movements are finished; last night i was able to hear 3rd and 4th movements; i had thought to copy 3rd movement yesterday, but I woke up so early that I was here by seven and it was a beautiful day so i wrote the 4th movement which got finished around two o’clock; and then i had both pieces to copy so as to be able to hear them, did that, had dinner, beginning to get jittery that they wouldn’t “sound,” bought some brandy and went to hear them.¹¹³ And thank God and Calliope, they are marvelous. All four hold together like one big movement and it is beautiful. The part i wrote to you about: the faster part: is fantastic. It is like a scherzo in paradise. Instead of writing hymn for wild church, I went back to original tempo and really continued second movement in more passionate vein. please hear it. i have been lucky and i am grateful. i had the most curious experiences writing the 4th piece which came so quickly: everything simply happened: phrases wrote themselves, ignored, seemingly, my “phrase structure” and then turned out to be on “phrase structure” side after all, making everything clear but passionate. i drank too much brandy after i found out the music was right, and i don’t feel very good today, although i will probably start next part. So far, piece is a little over 13 minutes. That is approximately length of Perilous Night: except this music holds together and is played without a break, but really it never is boring because it is always having new things happening. Have a new idea now upon which deliberation and dreaming must center: to make next part prestissimo (out of my range of execution) so that speed will enter for the spirit. i have never really written any fast, really fast, music, and i think i will do it: these unresonant sounds will take to it like water because they do not muddy each other. I am leaning towards the side of giving plain title like “Sonata for two pianos.” That would involve me in tempo titles for movements: andante, etc., of which i would not be too pleased. … haven’t heard from you for long week, except via spirit, which is what sustains me. will probably send little gift soon. the nights are no longer perilous, having moved into area of being terrifying. as darkness comes, i lose mind with loneliness and must work or go to movie to bring about utter fatigue which protects … i hope you love it there and have some beauty one to love … and i hope Four Walls is going well and that you are spirit-full … what need to wish? … you are strong … love you

      To Merce Cunningham

       [Undated, postmarked July 22, 1944] | 12 E. 17th St., New York

      [This letter is intentionally cut in various places, and it is also typewritten on the page both horizontally and vertically, as indicated below.]

      [horizontal] today is beautiful and i am dreaming of you and enigma and how we are together today: your words in my ears making [me] limp and taut by turns with delight. oh, i am sure we could use each other today.

      i like to believe that you are writing my music now: god knows i’m not doing it, because it simply seems to happen. the prestissimo is incredible the way you are and is perhaps a description and song about you.

      banalities: blue check arrived and dv et Helmsley got theirs; i am afflicted with bills of all description, but do not seem to be able to be sensible about money. passed by clyde’s yesterday with their socks; they look beautiful. had, for a change, a pleasant time with Schuyler;¹¹⁴ he informs me that Oliver¹¹⁵ who called the other day and wanted to know whether you could hold a tune and what kind of voice you had, with Robbins,¹¹⁶ has you in mind for the lead of their dance-musical; it doesn’t mean you have to sing like galli-curci,¹¹⁷ but like American sailor[s] sing (and see stripes au meme temps?)

      there is apparently a part in the book where you would go through a tunnel of love and everyone thinks you would do it very well: so do i, please go through mine, taking your time, if you will.

      also schuyler had evening with virgil and v.t. now says i am ultra-genius, having seen some of 2 piano work, and that i am on a par with picasso, schoenberg, stravinsky, satie, matisse, cezanne, van gogh etc. ad nauseum: schuyler now thinks virgil had good reasons for not reviewing other concerts, will blare next one to skies, that his review of it is really already written, that he has been making careful decisions about what to say etc. i don’t like being great. it’s not good for my relation with calliope, who by the way, is not female, and looks exactly like you.

      pardon the intrusion: but when in september will you be back? i would like to measure my breath in relation to the air between us.

      [vertical] in one letter i said absurd things about inexpressivity; obviously wrong, but what i meant was that high expressivity often comes about through no attempt