Enormous life changes have been afoot around these parts. I moved cross-country, from Boston to the Bay Area. I started a new job in academia–a full-time research and teaching fellowship at the UC Berkeley Journalism School. The intensity of work led me to decide, for the time being at least, to live within easy biking distance of my office. So I passed over the hustle and bustle of San Francisco for now and rented a quiet little cabin for a few months in Berkeley, shaded by a massive old oak tree. It’s a sort of isolation tank for writing and thinking–a small clapboard house that feels a bit like my beautiful old brownstone in Boston. The floors, walls, and ceiling are all hardwood–oak or maple, I guess–with lots of wrought iron, a clawfoot bathtub, and handmade cabinets. My landlord sewed me curtains, built a brick pathway through the garden to my front steps, and loaned me some of her antique wooden furniture. I’ve been spending a lot of time staring out the windows at the oak tree, thinking about generative music.

If you’re interested in reading some of my forthcoming Brian Eno book, the introduction was recently posted on the Continuum 33 1/3 series blog: here.

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