Marcus at his finest. Just wait for the guitar solo.
http://fabienm.club.fr/paus/secret.mp3
31 January 2007
30 January 2007
AUGH.
AUGH.
Ich habe meine braunen ledernen Handschuhe verloren. Sie waren ein Geschenk von Marcus. Scheiße!
My beautiful, warm, brown leather gloves given to me in an extreme act of generosity and kindness by Marcus whilst in New York are gone. I think I left them on the tram. Tomorrow I have to go to the transporation headquarters and look in the lost and found, but I'm sure they're gone forever. These were so nice and protected my hands so well. What will I do without gloves? My hands will never survive the winter.
Ich habe meine braunen ledernen Handschuhe verloren. Sie waren ein Geschenk von Marcus. Scheiße!
My beautiful, warm, brown leather gloves given to me in an extreme act of generosity and kindness by Marcus whilst in New York are gone. I think I left them on the tram. Tomorrow I have to go to the transporation headquarters and look in the lost and found, but I'm sure they're gone forever. These were so nice and protected my hands so well. What will I do without gloves? My hands will never survive the winter.
26 January 2007
Winter Warmth
Somethings don't change - a voice, a feeling, a connection.
For everything else that does change and leaves you lost, worried, and lonely, there's Wagner. And Vaughan Williams. And tea. And a window overlooking a gray German sky and white German snow.
For everything else that does change and leaves you lost, worried, and lonely, there's Wagner. And Vaughan Williams. And tea. And a window overlooking a gray German sky and white German snow.
25 January 2007
Let It Snow!
That's right, folks, we here in the north of Deutschland have got our first dusting of snow. It continues as I type. Nothing like a bit of white to make everything seem a little better.
22 January 2007
Rant
(In case I ever run for President of something, I've decided to remove comments that I might regret later on, though I believe what I wrote is true - the following paragraph shall suffice in summarizing my feelings of last week.)
The Germans bask in their so-called European liberalism, and let me tell you, it is ANYTHING but liberal. Freedom of speech, of expression, of thought, they control it all. You don't toe the line, their line, their imaginary little line in the sand, and you're more than the black sheep. You're on the other side of the fence. And it ain't green on the other side of the fence. It's a swampy bog of crap. Underneath that shiny facade of recycle-by-glass-color bins, something is rotten, and it stinks.
The Germans bask in their so-called European liberalism, and let me tell you, it is ANYTHING but liberal. Freedom of speech, of expression, of thought, they control it all. You don't toe the line, their line, their imaginary little line in the sand, and you're more than the black sheep. You're on the other side of the fence. And it ain't green on the other side of the fence. It's a swampy bog of crap. Underneath that shiny facade of recycle-by-glass-color bins, something is rotten, and it stinks.
17 January 2007
Fortune Told
Thus speaks my world famous pizza-maker uncle:
You will have Prince Charming sweep you off the piano and live happily in the south of France in a castle on a warm beach, performing for the masses and eating fresh baguettes and brie while sipping wine from your vineyards.
You will have Prince Charming sweep you off the piano and live happily in the south of France in a castle on a warm beach, performing for the masses and eating fresh baguettes and brie while sipping wine from your vineyards.
15 January 2007
The Art of Critic
Richard Aldrich of the New York Times reviews Sergei Prokofiev's local debut, on Nov. 20, 1918:
"It is for Prokofieff the mere breaking of a butterfly on a wheel to perform other men's music. But the gracious butterfly of Scriabine was metamorphosed into a gigantic prehistoric pterodactyl with horrid snout and crocodile wings which ominously whirred as they flew over the pianist. Ah! a Jabberwock, it was, not a butterfly!"
"It is for Prokofieff the mere breaking of a butterfly on a wheel to perform other men's music. But the gracious butterfly of Scriabine was metamorphosed into a gigantic prehistoric pterodactyl with horrid snout and crocodile wings which ominously whirred as they flew over the pianist. Ah! a Jabberwock, it was, not a butterfly!"
13 January 2007
Best TV Quote of the Week
Dr. Torres: So, what do you know about Shepherd?
Dr. Bailey: Has lots of hair, too many women, likes elevators and long walks on the beach.
Dr. Bailey: Has lots of hair, too many women, likes elevators and long walks on the beach.
12 January 2007
Depth Perception: Poem and Analysis
Inside the mirrors,
me, looking deeply:
frowns heavy at
scrutinized blemishes.
Without days of
reflections,
no more worry.
Freedom--
being just me.
(The writer clearly has issues with mirrors and is pleasantly surprised when, for some days, she doesn't look into one. This could be due to self-discipline and a strong desire to restrain from vanity. Or it could be because she doesn't have a mirror in her apartment. These Germans, you know - no kitchens, no shower rods, no bathroom mirrors.)
Me just being--
freedom.
Worry no more.
Reflections
of days without
blemishes scrutinized
at heavy frowns:
deeply looking, me,
mirrors the inside.
me, looking deeply:
frowns heavy at
scrutinized blemishes.
Without days of
reflections,
no more worry.
Freedom--
being just me.
(The writer clearly has issues with mirrors and is pleasantly surprised when, for some days, she doesn't look into one. This could be due to self-discipline and a strong desire to restrain from vanity. Or it could be because she doesn't have a mirror in her apartment. These Germans, you know - no kitchens, no shower rods, no bathroom mirrors.)
Me just being--
freedom.
Worry no more.
Reflections
of days without
blemishes scrutinized
at heavy frowns:
deeply looking, me,
mirrors the inside.
11 January 2007
Not looking forward to it
I had a brutal lesson yesterday. Then an audition. It's amazing how many teachers can't play the piano. My teacher, however, plays like a god.
I have another lesson today. He's going to yell at me again.
I have another lesson today. He's going to yell at me again.
07 January 2007
Lyrics to Live By
"The sky is lit up
Day will be richer than night"
Sometimes, everything clicks. The right circumstances, the right actions, the right people, the right time of year aligning with new beginnings. Even the right music plays along as a soundtrack, new lyrics, new sounds that perfectly describe both inner feelings and external events. Everything is lit up. Nothing is simple, or simplified, but the complexities hiding in long shadows have been exposed to the radiance of day, and the intricacies, once so frightening, are shown to be part of a luxurious weave. Sink your fingers in.
"You show me the world as it could be
Through your kaleidoscope, it's beautiful"
Joseph Conrad wrote, "The human heart is vast enough to contain all the world." When the world expands, do our hearts expand too? Whenever I see a new place, meet a new person, or have a new experience, extra dimensions are added to an already multi-dimensional world. Just over this holiday, I travelled to another country, met many new people, delved into the past, and celebrated traditions in new ways. I explored Amsterdam with a Dutch family, spent Christmas with a supermodel, toured Rembrandt's house and studio, made the pilgrimage to Anne Frank's secret annex, celebrated New Year's in a truly Berlinesque fashion, set off fireworks, watched night melt into day, heard a first-hand account of journalism in Africa from a journalist not much older than me, moved into a new apartment, read a book about the White Rose, and discovered a brilliant new singer/songwriter (real musician) whose songs add vibrant colors to my expanding world. Oh, also, my severe stomach flu and I spent an entire night throwing up into my former professor's toilet. There's nothing like being sick all over somebody else's bathroom. And then having that same professor standing over you in your misery, holding a glass of water and Tylenol, and with an evil gleam in his eye, saying, "Now you have to take back all the mean things you ever said about me, or I wont give you this!"
And I can't forget the Herring Sandwich Deal. I'm lucky to know such generous, genuine, caring people. And after all those essays too. Well, it's clear who the bigger person is. Which wouldn't be me.
"But I'm sure you're on your way
Yes I'm sure you're on the road"
A very exciting life I know of: Ivory Coast, England, Ireland, Berlin, Amsterdam, England, Congo
Me (I try): New York, California, Berlin, Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam, Berlin
Amsterdam: winter evening, dark shiny sky, people everywhere, walking, biking, driving, lights reflecting in the water, in the river, in the canals, shimmering a glow of welcome, bells ringing, cobblestones and pavement, my suitcase in the basket, my professor on the bike, me perched on metal bars over the rear tire, hanging on for dear life as we swerve through traffic, puff over bridges, and catapult down the other side into inky blackness.
"And I've always known you're like a feather
You go where wind and fire melt together"
(land of wind and fire....)
Then: a wild (Wild) New Year's Eve party, full of English speaking Germans and half-Germans only a couple years older than me, a reunion of classmates from nearly 10 years ago - the camaraderie, the fondness, the continuance of shared experience was sweet, and I felt a little sad that I have nothing like that. But the hosts made me feel welcome and wanted in the celebration. From the 6th floor balcony, the night sky exploded with furious bangs and nebulae of flame for hours. I burnt my finger on a fire-cracker, but hey, you gotta live. Champagne, bubbly bubbles, overflowed glasses and spouted geysers over exuberant, intoxicated partiers. This was no polite hello to 2007. This was AWESOME.
And then, from a window, I saw the birth of the first day of 2007. The new year doesn't really start at midnight. It starts around 7:45am. That's what you must stay up for. Unless your New Year's Resolution is to start waking up early and being productive.
"Beautiful day, watching you as you awake
Morning stars in your eyes, your hand in mine"
Not all the complex intertwinings are illuminated at once. Through the present glow, one can make out, far into the distance, the undulating outlines of weaves undiscovered - hopefully not made of thorns. Mystery future. Sometime, the light will be cast on those as well.
Until then: wait.
Day will be richer than night"
Sometimes, everything clicks. The right circumstances, the right actions, the right people, the right time of year aligning with new beginnings. Even the right music plays along as a soundtrack, new lyrics, new sounds that perfectly describe both inner feelings and external events. Everything is lit up. Nothing is simple, or simplified, but the complexities hiding in long shadows have been exposed to the radiance of day, and the intricacies, once so frightening, are shown to be part of a luxurious weave. Sink your fingers in.
"You show me the world as it could be
Through your kaleidoscope, it's beautiful"
Joseph Conrad wrote, "The human heart is vast enough to contain all the world." When the world expands, do our hearts expand too? Whenever I see a new place, meet a new person, or have a new experience, extra dimensions are added to an already multi-dimensional world. Just over this holiday, I travelled to another country, met many new people, delved into the past, and celebrated traditions in new ways. I explored Amsterdam with a Dutch family, spent Christmas with a supermodel, toured Rembrandt's house and studio, made the pilgrimage to Anne Frank's secret annex, celebrated New Year's in a truly Berlinesque fashion, set off fireworks, watched night melt into day, heard a first-hand account of journalism in Africa from a journalist not much older than me, moved into a new apartment, read a book about the White Rose, and discovered a brilliant new singer/songwriter (real musician) whose songs add vibrant colors to my expanding world. Oh, also, my severe stomach flu and I spent an entire night throwing up into my former professor's toilet. There's nothing like being sick all over somebody else's bathroom. And then having that same professor standing over you in your misery, holding a glass of water and Tylenol, and with an evil gleam in his eye, saying, "Now you have to take back all the mean things you ever said about me, or I wont give you this!"
And I can't forget the Herring Sandwich Deal. I'm lucky to know such generous, genuine, caring people. And after all those essays too. Well, it's clear who the bigger person is. Which wouldn't be me.
"But I'm sure you're on your way
Yes I'm sure you're on the road"
A very exciting life I know of: Ivory Coast, England, Ireland, Berlin, Amsterdam, England, Congo
Me (I try): New York, California, Berlin, Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam, Berlin
Amsterdam: winter evening, dark shiny sky, people everywhere, walking, biking, driving, lights reflecting in the water, in the river, in the canals, shimmering a glow of welcome, bells ringing, cobblestones and pavement, my suitcase in the basket, my professor on the bike, me perched on metal bars over the rear tire, hanging on for dear life as we swerve through traffic, puff over bridges, and catapult down the other side into inky blackness.
"And I've always known you're like a feather
You go where wind and fire melt together"
(land of wind and fire....)
Then: a wild (Wild) New Year's Eve party, full of English speaking Germans and half-Germans only a couple years older than me, a reunion of classmates from nearly 10 years ago - the camaraderie, the fondness, the continuance of shared experience was sweet, and I felt a little sad that I have nothing like that. But the hosts made me feel welcome and wanted in the celebration. From the 6th floor balcony, the night sky exploded with furious bangs and nebulae of flame for hours. I burnt my finger on a fire-cracker, but hey, you gotta live. Champagne, bubbly bubbles, overflowed glasses and spouted geysers over exuberant, intoxicated partiers. This was no polite hello to 2007. This was AWESOME.
And then, from a window, I saw the birth of the first day of 2007. The new year doesn't really start at midnight. It starts around 7:45am. That's what you must stay up for. Unless your New Year's Resolution is to start waking up early and being productive.
"Beautiful day, watching you as you awake
Morning stars in your eyes, your hand in mine"
Not all the complex intertwinings are illuminated at once. Through the present glow, one can make out, far into the distance, the undulating outlines of weaves undiscovered - hopefully not made of thorns. Mystery future. Sometime, the light will be cast on those as well.
Until then: wait.
01 January 2007
New Day
The miracle of today isn't the new year. 2007 is just a number. But after a long, celebratory night of fireworks and bubbly, standing in the middle of a party-ravaged kitchen and watching dawn break over old gray buildings, the magic is in the melting of night into day, blackened darkness into a deep-blue/cold-blue/charcoal-and-ash-gray hinting at the nearing of a sun still below an unseen horizon.
"Look," I said to my exhausted companion, we two the last remnants left standing in the silent dusky room. I pointed to the window. "A new day."
To start off your new year, check out Norwegian/British singer/songwriter Kate Havnevik by going to www.myspace.com/katehavnevik and clicking (on the right sidebar) her song entitled "New Day." Listen to the whole 7:42 minutes of dark strings, atonal slides, techno beat, electronic austerity, and gorgeous lyrics, a landscape of sound you've never encountered before. Her music may be familiar to you if you watch "Grey's Anatomy" - they seem to use her music whenever the tension becomes too unbearable and the show hits emotional zero, most notably the finale of season 2 and the recent episode "From a Whisper to a Scream."
"Look," I said to my exhausted companion, we two the last remnants left standing in the silent dusky room. I pointed to the window. "A new day."
To start off your new year, check out Norwegian/British singer/songwriter Kate Havnevik by going to www.myspace.com/katehavnevik and clicking (on the right sidebar) her song entitled "New Day." Listen to the whole 7:42 minutes of dark strings, atonal slides, techno beat, electronic austerity, and gorgeous lyrics, a landscape of sound you've never encountered before. Her music may be familiar to you if you watch "Grey's Anatomy" - they seem to use her music whenever the tension becomes too unbearable and the show hits emotional zero, most notably the finale of season 2 and the recent episode "From a Whisper to a Scream."
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