I love music. We know this because I write a blog called Ain’t Baroque.
You love music. We know this because you read a blog called Ain’t Baroque.
But today I would like to talk to you about how music causes me BLINDING RAGE.
A couple weeks ago I was ever-so-gently railroaded into auditioning as an alum for my grad school orchestra. Although I have always hated practicing, I have also loved being inside the music; I thought, hell, may as well give it a shot. So I set up an audition time, borrowed my old violin back from my mother, and set about putting together an audition piece. I unpacked the violin, jury-rigged a shoulder rest, opened up an old Sukuzi, and…
God did I sound awful. Half an hour later, I canceled my audition.
Look, I haven’t played violin in, I don’t know, four years? And I knew, somewhere in there, that I wasn’t going to be able to just magically pick it up again ’cause I felt like it. I did know I could work at it, and get better, and eventually make something akin to real music. But the fact of the matter is this, was this, has always been this: it doesn’t feel good to play.
Holding the violin was not like coming home. It was not an old friend. I didn’t smile ruefully at my own incompetence, and I didn’t decide, with the great ambition and determination of the heroine of a novel, that I was going to practice every day until I could play Beethoven’s Spring Sonata with the same easy grace I did in eleventh grade.
Because even when it was easy and graceful, it was never easy. Even when my fingers flowed and my intonation was right on point, I never felt graceful. At my peak, at my best, my practice time yielded mostly anger. My successes brought me little pleasure. I can – I have – listed the reasons, my justifications, for why I don’t like to play, but the ultimate truth as that it does not make me happy.
There. I said it. Playing an instrument does not make me happy. It makes me angry. It makes me hate myself because I can’t do it right, and it’s not just a matter of practicing harder. Improvement does not make me happy either. For me it has never been enough to be quite good. If I can’t be Itzhak Perlman then I don’t want to play this game.
So. I tried again and nothing was different. And that makes me sad. I wish I could do it, I do. It’s just not where I belong in the music world. But I can write about it, and when I do, I sometimes find myself in a groove where all the words flow, and it’s easy and graceful. That makes me happy.
I may not be a musician, but damned if I don’t just shoehorn myself in among you anyway! There is a place here for all of us – sometimes it’s not behind a music stand, that’s all.
The hedgehog's dilemma, or sometimes the porcupine dilemma, is an analogy about the challenges of human intimacy. It describes a situation in which a group of hedgehogs all seek to become close to one another in order to share heat during cold weather. They must remain apart, however, as they cannot avoid hurting one another with their sharp quills. Though they all share the intention of a close reciprocal relationship, this may not occur for reasons they cannot avoid.
Both Arthur Schopenhauer and Sigmund Freud have used this situation to describe what they feel is the state of individual in relation to others in society. The hedgehog's dilemma suggests that despite goodwill, human intimacy cannot occur without substantial mutual harm, and what results is cautious behavior and weak relationships. With the hedgehog's dilemma, one is recommended to use moderation in affairs with others both because of self-interest, as well as out of consideration for others. The hedgehog's dilemma is used to justify or explain introversion and isolationism.
The State, the Government, the Supreme, the Eternal, the Aggressor against the persons and property of the mass of the public.
All states, everywhere, whether democratic, dictatorial, or monarchical, whether red, white, blue or brown.
For centuries, the State has robbed people at bayonet point, and called it, "taxation." For centuries, the State has enslaved people into its armed battalions, and called it, "conscription."
For centuries, the State has robbed people at bayonet point, and called it, "taxation." Coercion and violence, by the direct threat of confiscation or imprisonment, this is taxation.
the people on the Isle of Wight, whose most illegally download artist - based on monthly averages - is trumpet-playing crooner Louis Armstrong.
Cool beans.
Ah, well that's fine then.
Man's probably already got a gold piece on his watch chain to tell the boys he died standing pat and whatnot. Doesn't need to bother with us lot downloading his stuff illegally.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Hello y'all. I have 40 minutes or so to kill before class so I'm sitting in the computer lab for a while.
Yesterday was one of those amazing instances when I skipped class only for both my classes to be cancelled. Lucky!
Comments
The State, the Government, the Supreme, the Eternal, the Aggressor against the persons and property of the mass of the public.
All states, everywhere, whether democratic, dictatorial, or monarchical, whether red, white, blue or brown.
For centuries, the State has robbed people at bayonet point, and
called it, "taxation." For centuries, the State has enslaved people
into its armed battalions, and called it, "conscription."
For centuries, the State has robbed people at bayonet point, and
called it, "taxation." Coercion and violence, by the direct threat of
confiscation or imprisonment, this is taxation.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Man's probably already got a gold piece on his watch chain to tell the boys he died standing pat and whatnot. Doesn't need to bother with us lot downloading his stuff illegally.
Like torrential downpour raining.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
dat punchline
Bleh
Right after I make projectile motion go in a straight line.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
I shall have to make a projectile go in a line along the surface of the earth so that it appears to be going straight from the earth.
I'm alive again.
Hi all.
she's the current runnin' thru my veins
she's a siren
hearin' voices that I can't explain
now I
I should be thinkin' it over
instead I'm callin' her over
now she's here and she
won't
go
quietly
I genuinely don't understand how people can find FLCL confusing.
I mean, it's weird, but that's not the same as hard to understand.
Apparently Naff used to mean Heterosexual.
Yesterday was one of those amazing instances when I skipped class only for both my classes to be cancelled. Lucky!
I think I'm getting sick.
Just woke up from a fucking bizarre fever dream.