- Glass, Philip
Opera on the Beach. On His New World of Opera Theater.
Faber, London, 1988, Trade Paperback, , , Very Good /
xvii, 222 pp.,  pp. of plates : illus. (some color), music, portraits. Some wear to wraps, else a very good octavo. Contents: Introduction; Apprenticeship of sorts, Paris, Soho; Einstein on the Beach, the music, the libretto; Satyagraha, the music, the libretto, Akhnaten, the music, the libretto; Some other music; Music catalog; Discography; Index.
Collection Summary Creator: Schoolcraft, Henry Rowe, 1793-1864 Title: Papers of Henry Rowe Schoolcraft 1788-1941 (bulk 1820-1856) Size: 25,000 items; 90 containers plus 1 oversize; 28 linear feet; 69 microfilm reels Repository: Manuscript Division, Library of Congress Abstract: Author, ethnologist, explorer, geologist, glass manufacturer, and Indian agent. Correspondence, journals, articles, books, manuscripts of magazines, poetry, speeches, government reports, Indian vocabularies, maps, drawings, and other papers reflecting Schoolcraft's career as a glass manufacturer, mineralogist on an exploring expedition in the Ozark Mountains, geologist on the Cass expedition to the Northwest Territory, leader of expeditions throughout the Great Lakes region, member of Michigan's legislative council, Indian agent, superintendent of Indian affairs for Michigan, ethnologist, and author of works concerning the Iroquois of New York state and other Indians of North America.
Memories of the Future “The Branch Line”
“Yes, sirree, in the dream business there’s no time for sleep. We’re always working. Day and night. A completely dreamed-out pillow is an old dream-producing tool that has served millions of headboards. You have only to touch the down hidden inside and . . . Here—wouldn’t you like to see? The man wiped his hand on his apron then pressed it to one of the pillows. Through the cracks between his fingers, parti-colored smoke curled slowly up into the air in hazy, tenuous shapes. His free hand dove under the apron—and out came the bulging transparent eye of a magnifying glass. “You’ll see better with this.” Squinting through the glass, Quantin now clearly saw seeping out of the pillow images of people, trees, coiling spirals, bodies, and fluttering clothes; the parti-colored air swaying above the man’s fingers formed an open lattice through which a host of worlds flowed and intertwined. The man put away the glass. “There. Now the feathers filling these pouters, what are they? A wing torn into a host of tiny wingednesses, a flight exploded in eiderdown. Once they’ve been sewn into pillows, these tiny wingednesses fight to free themselves and take flight. Without success. They go on struggling until someone’s brain lies down on their atomized flight, and then . . . As for the human brain’s affinity for pillows, it’s entirely natural: they’re related, after all, the pillow and the brain. For what do you have under the crown of your head? A grayish white, porous- plumose pulp wrapped in three pillowcases. (Your scientists call them membranes.) Yes, and I maintain that in the head of any sleeper, there is always one pillow more than he thinks. No point pretending to have less. No, sirree, Off you go!Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky—translated from the Russian by Joanne Turnbull