Monday, August 28, 2006

time reinforces and diminishes.

Jo, Danny, Gooizhen, Gloria and I made a trip down to the Royal Albert Hall last Friday for the Proms, and I'm very happy to report that none of us fell asleep. While we quite fancied the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto and the Sibelius 5th Symphony, we all cringed at the pompous contemporary piece. It dealt more with 'aesthetic' concepts, and dare I say it - almost kitsch-like in construction. Why, the more abstract the piece is, the more wonderful the work must be. If it's beyond our understanding, it must truly be such a great work of art. Use as many instruments as you can, employ unusual orchestration, have the players walk up and down to blow their own trumpets - literally. (Well, in this case, trumpets and trombones) Only two dynamic levels - ff and fff. How impressive! Applaud, applaud!

Jo thought it sounded like noise music befitting Caesar's Palace, and Danny likened it to 'pretentious' - I couldn't have said it better myself. Then again, read this from a book recently:

"The spectator, standing just a few inches away from one of Monet's painting of Rouen cathedral, sees only daubs of paint and vague shapes. Just as the outline of the cathedral emerges only when the viewer takes a few steps back, so the image of the artist and his works is supposed to gain in clarity the farther we withdraw from it in time."

It makes me wonder if the difficulty that we face in appreciating such 'novel' music lies with us then - that we'll only learn to cultivate taste through proximity and distance, and under severe conditioning through imposed exposure to modern music, or anything else for that matter.

Like how hindsight is always 20/20, everything seen through the (hopefully, objective) retrospective lens is infinite times clearer and far more luminous. But more often than not, it's already too late, what has passed you by is forever lost. Sprawled on the bed face-down, fondling the dregs of your fallible memories, which alter and lose much meaning with each enforced revival. And one day, even the presence of their absence would fade into that postcard-thin line of obscurity amongst many new coloured acquisitions, which makes it seem as if it had never once lived.

But you carry on living. Maybe with a gray tinge of inexplicable loss, for forgetting what you have forgotten, but most incredulously - you start life from square one, all over again, because you're now none the wiser. Then again, it sounds too fantastic to be true, but it explains why delusions have to be larger than life - reality tends to disappoint us with its all-too-prosaic nature. I wonder why we (or at least, I) ever thought otherwise?

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

there is no satisfying greed.

Work is going slowly, but there is a slight improvement. I'm somewhat on the right track for my dissertation (even though the 2200 words I'd written has to be scraped), I've chosen my topics for the Enlightenment and Mozart courses, and I'm actually quite keen to start working on them - woke up at half nine this morning to go to the library with Dominic! I even paid my library fines (very, VERY reluctantly), and got out three books and an opera score. (Jo was incredulous when I told her about my field-trip to the library, lol.) But Chris wants my 10,000 word dissertation in by Thursday, so really, I don't have a choice.

Anyway. I suspect the vinyl shop at Notting Hill Gate (only 5 min walk from the Caffe Nero near mine) has these invisible wraiths with Medusa hands standing at their door, ready to kidnap unsuspecting pedestrians, and silently coerce them into buying too many records which they don't really need. Either that, or they must have secretly spray the exterior of the shop with some form of highly-addictive pheromones. That must be the reason why I go there once a week to spend money on vinyls - money which I do not have! I think I've accumulated 90 vinyls in the span of a month - and counting. There's just too much good music to listen to.

But listening to these gorgeous performances on vinyls (I always make sure I don't spend more than 5quid on any record) make me incredibly happy - they really do. I've just put on Brahms on the player, and I feel like I'm at the top of the world, spinning around in dizzy circles and I can barely catch my breath. These delightful gray stars I see before my eyes! It makes me feel as if I want to practise piano NOW and never stop playing for the rest of my life.

You might not understand where I'm coming from, I'm making a distinct leap here - but imagined grief has never seemed so sweet.

Whoever said that money can't buy you happiness?

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

fuming at myself; gripe alert!

In the unlikely event that I actually have kids of my own, I swear I'm going to make them learn French, German and Italian - on top of English and Chinese (and yes, Dominic, Singlish too). And the piano. And the violin. And they should have perfect-pitch. And sing in tune. And learn how to swim. And at least, learn how to sew and cook yummy food. And maybe the oboe. And the trombone. And they must learn how to whistle and catch flies with their hands. But I digress.

There is nothing more infuriating, than spending hours searching for the obscure but integral articles/journals which you need for for your coursework, only to find out that they are encrypted and encoded with funny letters and symbols, which make no sense whatsoever. At least, it's all nonsense to me. I might as well use it for toilet paper. Okay, that's a bit uncalled for. I'll use them to swat the summer flies which invade my room at exactly 1237hrs everyday.

And I can't believe that Senate House doesn't have the opera score which I need. This means a possible trip down to the British Library, and oh boy - THE HASSLE. ID cards, tight security, fighting for appointments, you can't even turn the pages with your own hands. And there's no point in going down, really - you can't borrow anything out of the library, and there's the copyright rule.

And there's some wanker blasting Indian music at 424hr in the morning. I'm all for promoting the love of enthomusicology, but please, do so at a decent time. If not, I promise to let loose Strauss's Salome on you tomorrow from 0200-0600hrs. It's a beautiful opera, but you can't understand it anyway. And that's not my problem. Just like how it's not my problem that I don't appreciate your Indian music. So we're quits.

And what's with the cold and dreary weather in London right now! It's August! AUGUST!

Thursday, August 10, 2006

panicking.

1. Analysis Major
Duet schemes in Verdi's Aida
[10,000 words and many, many A3 graphs and tables]

2. Analysis 1a - Schenker Studies
Corelli's Trio Sonata [3,500 words and many graphs and tables. Chris wants me to write at least 5,000 words when the word limit is actually 1,500 - 2,000. I'm going to ignore him.]
Chopin's Etude Op. 25 #7 [7,000 words and many graphs and tables. You know, this essay is only meant to be 3,000 words but Chris tells me to write 'as much as I can'. Ugh.]

3. Analysis 1b - Post-Tonal Music and Compositional Theory
Berg's Piano Sonata. I had an idea - wave-formations - but I just found out that someone came up with it three years ago, and had already written a dissertation on it. Damn. I have no slant on it now.
[5,000 words and possibly 15 A3 graphs and tables]

4. Biography and Critism: Mozart
Haven't decided on a topic, Dominic suggests an early Mozart opera. I'm quite sure I'm going to fail this module. This particular tutor hates me.
[5,000 words]

5. Issues in Historiography and Criticism
Something about the problems of Musical Analysis, I think. I don't know what to do either. I don't really want to critique Adorno, and neither do I really want to read his pedantic writing.
[5,000 words]

6. Music and Enlightenment
I was going to do Gluck's Orfeo, but I'm bored to tears by it. Mozart's Marriage of Figaro had been done only about 234987 times, as well as Cosi Fan Tutte, Don Giovanni and The Magic Flute. Dominic suggested a Haydn opera, so we'll see how that goes. What's Enlightenment about again?
[5,000 words]

7. Advanced Studies in Musical Analysis and Criticism: Stravinsky's Rite of Spring
At least I have a title for this one - Coherence in the Rite of Spring. Something like that anyway. Now - to force my own reading upon the music.
[5,000 words and many graphs]

Ideally, I should finish all these essays by end September, and I've only written about 4,000 words I think. So boys and girls, Lynne is going to bid all of you goodbye for a while (or so I say - procrastination is an incurable disease). Work has claimed me for his own - he's now my new (and extremely needy) boyfriend. I hope we'll break up soon.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

lunch.

As we have noted today, there's always something new to see if you tilt your eyeballs up by 38.297 degrees. I don't know about you, but I quite enjoy rolling about on a two-seater after a heavy meal. The world is only able to intrude via that maroon door-frame, and it's as if by putting my half-pint of beer in line of my vision, I'd be able to close that door, and all I will be able to see is transculent amber. I do this, despite knowing that for every door that is closed, there is one less open. So maybe it's time for me to adopt your approach, and not think about the loss, but to appreciate whatever gain is derived from having that door shut behind me - even if, or rather, especially if I'm not the one who had to do the closing.

Oh, and Happy National Day.

Monday, August 07, 2006

three unrelated photos.

I was just looking at the wall above my table. There used to be a gazillion photos pasted up on it (relatively outdated, but they remain relevant), and over time, most of them have fallen off, sucked into the swirling vortex of my room, aka the Black Hole. Even Jess agrees with me, on its invisible but unmistakable presence in my room. Things just go missing somehow. I had to buy three erasers over the course of the week.

So, it used to look like this:

And now, it's just a smattering of a few pathetic photos on the wall, concert ticket stubs, and a leaflet of the Barbican library opening hours. (Now, that is hatefully relevant!) Blue acne as opposed to a proud riot of colours, the poor wall actually looks like it's going through the painful stages of puberty - hello, adolescent!

Just for fun, this is how my bedroom used to look like:

I'm afraid there isn't any more floor space, and it doesn't even remotely resemble that of the above. I'd put up a picture of the current state of my room, but some things are too embarrassing to share.

And since all things come in threes, here's one of the many photos from our trip to Wales last April. This is taken by Jeremiah somewhere up along Mount Snowdon:

Look at the veiled promise of eternal sunshine! Feed on the musky scent of the evergreen! (The trauma of scaling, no, crawling up the steep slopes, is abruptly forgotten and romanticised. In this blasted summer heat, who can actually recall the biting sensation of cold? That's life - a montage of selective memories.)

May I dream of Mount Snowdon tonight, and its blue, blue skies.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

quattro formaggi, cover my eyes.

1. I had two ham-and-cheese sandwiches for lunch.

2. Yang'en and I had a very major cheesy music-making session. Really. And Dominic, I think it ranks above my "stepping stones" song!

3. I finished a whole packet of nachos alongside with the cheese dip..

4. ..while watching Superman. Which has to be the cheesiest of all cheesy movies. Caught it at the IMAX theatre today, and I had to cover my mouth with my hand far too many times during the movie, to prevent loud guffaws from escaping. Absolutely hilarious.

That being said, you can never go wrong with doing cheesy things! It just puts this inane CHEESY grin on your face somehow.

But this doesn't mean I'm ready to accept all kinds of cheese - goat's cheese, blue cheese, whatever. Nasty stuff. Too smelly. Jo, I'll never ever want to eat them okay! Especially not with wine!

Some of you know that I've a habit of sleeping with a towel over my face, especially those whom I've traipsed all over Europe with. Well, it doesn't really have to be a towel - even a shirt, or a sweater will do. As long as I feel that delicious weight upon my eyes and it blocks out all the tiny accusing arrows of light, it'd do. If not, I won't be able to fall asleep. I know I know, everyone tells me that it's such a weird thing to do, and they look at me with such an incredulous expression. It's as if I'd just confessed to them that my secret alterego is Supergirl (watch me fly), or that I'm moonlighting at night as a pole-dancer in Soho, and that's the real reason why I never seem to get any work done. Is it really all that outlandish though? Maybe - I've never met anyone else who has the same habit as me.

I've just heard from someone that it's apparently very bad luck to do so - this may explain the ridiculous situations I seem to land myself in all the time - falling down all over the place (twice along Bayswater yesterday, I must have flashed at least a dozen people), losing my phone, stolen luggages, it's endless! (No, I refuse to attribute it to my carelessness) Jess and I just received two pairs of eyeshades from a friend, so I'm going to use that tonight for a change. May this herald the start of a new epoch! Bring on the blindfolds!

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

Old wounds hurt most, I learned this today, becaus...
She speaks, repeating the old litanies, of worn ac...
time skips
and it all comes together!
beethoven's symphony no.7 2nd mvt
again,
towards that something
In the alley of shadows and death
Masking Tape
another end of the world

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
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June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.