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On the autumn-colored PATH train, I admire a trio of wonderfully-dressed French tourists, cameras and messenger bags slung around casual shoulders and thick black scarves wrapped around chilly necks. All three own brilliantly long and messy hair. The two men keep disheveled beards. Their eyes sparkle with the excitement of the unfamiliar. Watching them, I think of my sweetheart and me, under some foreign ground, stuffing colorful bills into a slow and stubborn slot, attempting to board the Metro. And where would we go?

It's funny how a morning's commute to work is…

"After a hard day of work, analyzing classical music can be relaxing."

A tip of the hat to Alex Ross for pointing me toward McJeebie's blog.

What it is is beautiful. And hypnotic.

And addictive.

Thanks, Larry, for pointing this one out to me—and for taking me to hear Reich and Ransom Wilson perform the premiere of "Vermont Counterpoint" 24 years ago.

On my way home last night, I stopped at Home Depot on 23rd Street. I'm still not used to the fact that there's a Home Depot on 23rd Street, but that's something else. I stopped at Home Depot (on 23rd Street) and purchased a window insulation kit.

At home, I took a stand. "Autumn," I said, "I love you,…

Personal confession time: I get discs in the mail and I try to listen to 'em all, but sometimes it just seems like work, you know? It is—in fact, it's my job. Considering all the time I've spent on the wrong sides of both shovels and bedpans, I know better than complain about my current gig.

When The Never-Ending Waltz ended up in my mailbox, I didn't exactly move it to the top of my to-play pile. Quite the opposite. It kept winding up somewhere in the "someday" stack, where I finally grabbed…