everything is illuminated
Time heals all wounds. But what if time is the wound? - Jonathan Foer
I tend to slack off with blogs, journals, etc. after a while. I think it's because part of me is afraid of consistency. It's strange because I definitely like some things being consistent in my life, but just not journals. I think it's amazing when people keep track of everything every day, every other day, or whenever. I just can't, and god knows I've tried. It'd be funny if I wrote in this consistently though, no? Me at age 64 or whatever, typing away on Blogger.
"Went to supermarket today, and my oh my, it must be strawberry season because they sure looked very ripe and smelled wonderful"
Hah. Something about that is comical but really scary.
Anyway, came home for the day/night. No one is in the house now so it was kind of odd coming home to...nothing. But so exhilarating because it was just me and the piano and I never get that. Someone is usually always here. So I sat and started sight-reading some old Mozart pieces that I used to play--god they're so beautiful, it really made me miss classical music, playing/hearing/experiencing.
Then started running my own songs: Engraving, Cashmere....started playing Pisces and somewhere in the first verse, maybe even the first or second line, I choked up. I don't know what it was exactly but I cried my way through that entire piece. Something about the way the winter sunlight was on the piano that made me think of people, family, friends, lost friends, just loss in general. And I cried.
Part of it probably has to do with the fact that it was so intimate, just me and the piano and the silence (and also the piano sounds amazing in my living room, I've missed the rich sound so much). Usually, I'm in the piano room in the basement on the shitty piano that has a broken pedal, with people nearby in the laundry room or in the dance studio...or I'm borrowing Eileen's keyboard and I'm playing in the room but that's a keyboard and everyone can probably hear me so I'm always self-conscious. Sure, when Elena's in the room I can still work and play which is pretty amazing since I don't like "working" around people but Elena's great. (We harmonize, and she knows my lyrics better than I do). And yeah, I'm pumped to play when people are around but there's no intimacy with myself. Whenever people are in the room I automatically shift to perfoming mode. And here....noone, nothing.
Truth be told, it was kind of refreshing, I haven't cried in a long time. I actually don't think I've ever cried in the dorms. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing....probably bad, because it means something about it is hindering me from really being myself. I don't cry a lot, but I need a good one now and then.
I'm going back to le piano but I'll leave you with the lyrics to no.16. Regardless of whether or not I write more songs, this would be the last piece on the proverbial "album":
Benediction
No words, but a wave goodbye
Easier done than said
Save repercussions
for future references
Unreal city,
keeping you hidden
from my fears
On this lonely Sunday
(I think I was channeling Sarah on this piece: it's very "Last Dance" in that it's short and sweet, and is the last song...and also, I didn't know she had a song "Gloomy Sunday" but indeed she does.)
I tend to slack off with blogs, journals, etc. after a while. I think it's because part of me is afraid of consistency. It's strange because I definitely like some things being consistent in my life, but just not journals. I think it's amazing when people keep track of everything every day, every other day, or whenever. I just can't, and god knows I've tried. It'd be funny if I wrote in this consistently though, no? Me at age 64 or whatever, typing away on Blogger.
"Went to supermarket today, and my oh my, it must be strawberry season because they sure looked very ripe and smelled wonderful"
Hah. Something about that is comical but really scary.
Anyway, came home for the day/night. No one is in the house now so it was kind of odd coming home to...nothing. But so exhilarating because it was just me and the piano and I never get that. Someone is usually always here. So I sat and started sight-reading some old Mozart pieces that I used to play--god they're so beautiful, it really made me miss classical music, playing/hearing/experiencing.
Then started running my own songs: Engraving, Cashmere....started playing Pisces and somewhere in the first verse, maybe even the first or second line, I choked up. I don't know what it was exactly but I cried my way through that entire piece. Something about the way the winter sunlight was on the piano that made me think of people, family, friends, lost friends, just loss in general. And I cried.
Part of it probably has to do with the fact that it was so intimate, just me and the piano and the silence (and also the piano sounds amazing in my living room, I've missed the rich sound so much). Usually, I'm in the piano room in the basement on the shitty piano that has a broken pedal, with people nearby in the laundry room or in the dance studio...or I'm borrowing Eileen's keyboard and I'm playing in the room but that's a keyboard and everyone can probably hear me so I'm always self-conscious. Sure, when Elena's in the room I can still work and play which is pretty amazing since I don't like "working" around people but Elena's great. (We harmonize, and she knows my lyrics better than I do). And yeah, I'm pumped to play when people are around but there's no intimacy with myself. Whenever people are in the room I automatically shift to perfoming mode. And here....noone, nothing.
Truth be told, it was kind of refreshing, I haven't cried in a long time. I actually don't think I've ever cried in the dorms. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing....probably bad, because it means something about it is hindering me from really being myself. I don't cry a lot, but I need a good one now and then.
I'm going back to le piano but I'll leave you with the lyrics to no.16. Regardless of whether or not I write more songs, this would be the last piece on the proverbial "album":
Benediction
No words, but a wave goodbye
Easier done than said
Save repercussions
for future references
Unreal city,
keeping you hidden
from my fears
On this lonely Sunday
(I think I was channeling Sarah on this piece: it's very "Last Dance" in that it's short and sweet, and is the last song...and also, I didn't know she had a song "Gloomy Sunday" but indeed she does.)
posted by Deb Oh at 2:21 PM
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