Sunday, November 09, 2008
(T_T)
It's just one of those days of neurotic self-doubt and lack of direction. Or rather, I feel pulled in so many directions, and I'm not sure why I'm choosing one direction over another anymore. I feel as if I'm setting myself up for a big big fall and plenty of regrets.
There, an emo post for you to chew on. Don't say I don't have inner struggles :P
There, an emo post for you to chew on. Don't say I don't have inner struggles :P
Yawnz
I stayed up to watch the whole Tiananmen documentary on Youtube, so I finally have a detailed version of what happened. Main impression is that the students were passionate but horribly naive and ignorant, probably imbued with the sense of immortality that youths always possess. They were rebelling against the government, but still believed in the inherent goodness of their government.
And yes, I watched Painted Skin, and thought it was good.
And yes, I watched Painted Skin, and thought it was good.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Just in case anyone didn't realise...
... what a hugely monumental change it is to have an African American as the President of the United States.
This is a website with a collection of postcards and photographs of lynchings in the US. Not all of the victims depicted are black, but you will notice that most were.
And now, just look at this. Would you just look at that.
No wonder the Kenyans are celebrating. Can you imagine being seen as the poor and destitute and backwards (or worse) for centuries, and then suddenly have one of your own become the leader of the most powerful country in the world?
It's just freaking amazing.
This is a website with a collection of postcards and photographs of lynchings in the US. Not all of the victims depicted are black, but you will notice that most were.
And now, just look at this. Would you just look at that.
No wonder the Kenyans are celebrating. Can you imagine being seen as the poor and destitute and backwards (or worse) for centuries, and then suddenly have one of your own become the leader of the most powerful country in the world?
It's just freaking amazing.
Monday, October 27, 2008
*brain explodes*
Sarasate Zigeunerweisen (damn that was hard to spell)
This version on the erhu:
This version on the violin (Heifetz):
This version on the erhu:
This version on the violin (Heifetz):
Saturday, October 11, 2008
feverish brain
I'm running a high fever, so forgive whatever rambling might occur. Had no choice but to take work MC today, and cancel TWO(!!!!!) driving lessons... when my test is on Monday! I'm not even sure I can make it for the test *whines* But feverish semi-delusional zombified me in a car? Not good idea.
Anyway, I love this - 50 of your favourite words. It reminds me of this poetry class I took in my 1st year. The tutor would have all these oldish poems with obscure words, and every week before class we were supposed to look up the meanings of these words and there'd be a quiz during class. And of course I never bothered, so during the class quiz I'd make up definitions, most of them quite fantastical and fairly specific. Things like 'a rare carnivorous plant found in the southern regions of Spain that devours only the red-legged mosquito', or 'a form of wood carving, thought to be invented by the Aztecs as part of their ritual lunar sacrifices'. It was such a laugh. My tutor never said anything, but he had such a despondent look everytime he handed me my marked (and failed) quiz. He must have hated me to bits man. Hell that class was fun.
I've been sleeping all day. Should go back to sleep.
Anyway, I love this - 50 of your favourite words. It reminds me of this poetry class I took in my 1st year. The tutor would have all these oldish poems with obscure words, and every week before class we were supposed to look up the meanings of these words and there'd be a quiz during class. And of course I never bothered, so during the class quiz I'd make up definitions, most of them quite fantastical and fairly specific. Things like 'a rare carnivorous plant found in the southern regions of Spain that devours only the red-legged mosquito', or 'a form of wood carving, thought to be invented by the Aztecs as part of their ritual lunar sacrifices'. It was such a laugh. My tutor never said anything, but he had such a despondent look everytime he handed me my marked (and failed) quiz. He must have hated me to bits man. Hell that class was fun.
I've been sleeping all day. Should go back to sleep.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
More Damien Rice
Ok, I HAD to put this here. I think I've fallen really hard this time...
The Blower's Daughter
I'm so in love with this music, I can't bear to sleep even though I'm really sleepy hehe... The music is so lovely! Today's been such a wonderful day, even though I slept through most of it. But the parts when I was awake were wonderful... This morning I managed to drag myself out of bed and when straight to my piano to play a very incoherent but very rapid and adrenaline pumping 3rd movement, moonlight sonata. Very very very thrilling. I swear it's immensely addictive and exciting, I don't know how I'll ever live without my piano. Almost nothing gets my pulse racing as fast haha... I love it when the music fills my head; it's almost as if I'm entirely animated by the music. And now I know I sound like an idiot, and it's really time for me to go to bed :P
The Blower's Daughter
I'm so in love with this music, I can't bear to sleep even though I'm really sleepy hehe... The music is so lovely! Today's been such a wonderful day, even though I slept through most of it. But the parts when I was awake were wonderful... This morning I managed to drag myself out of bed and when straight to my piano to play a very incoherent but very rapid and adrenaline pumping 3rd movement, moonlight sonata. Very very very thrilling. I swear it's immensely addictive and exciting, I don't know how I'll ever live without my piano. Almost nothing gets my pulse racing as fast haha... I love it when the music fills my head; it's almost as if I'm entirely animated by the music. And now I know I sound like an idiot, and it's really time for me to go to bed :P
Totally in love again
This is Damien Rice, my newfound love.
Volcano:
Delicate (which House used before, so even if you haven't heard of Damien Rice before, you might still find it familiar):
Volcano:
Delicate (which House used before, so even if you haven't heard of Damien Rice before, you might still find it familiar):
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
重色轻友
Late at night, in a car parked a deserted carpark lighted dimly by streetlights, with the rain pouring and this song playing -
And all of a sudden I wished it was LSB sitting beside me.
But it was still very fun lar, and got quite high haha.
And all of a sudden I wished it was LSB sitting beside me.
But it was still very fun lar, and got quite high haha.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Irish Airman and Rubaiyat and some thoughts on music
Irish Airman (Yeats_ has been a long-time favourite of mine, and LSB just introduced me to the Rubaiyat. I suppose if I pick out the stanzas in Rubaiyat, and stick them together with Irish Airman, they'd together articulate my interpretation of (and extrapolation from) both poems.
The similarities:
Irish Airman:
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan's Cross
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor;
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
Rubaiyat:
VII.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
X.
With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.
XI.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
XXVIII.
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
XXIX.
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
XXXVIII.
One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One moment, of the Well of Life to taste--
The Stars are setting, and the Caravan
Starts for the dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!
XXXIX.
How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
XLV.
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
LII.
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to IT for help--for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
And these stanzas, just for the heck of it:
L.
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!
LI.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
LVII.
Oh Thou who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
LVIII.
Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!
LXIII.
None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What? did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
The sentiment expressed in Irish Airman is so dear to my heart that the wanton use of the lines sans understanding of the sentiment feels to me very much like a prostitution of Yeats' poem *ahem looking at you*.
Anyway, I think that sometimes I love poems not for their content, but for the way they sound to my ears. As such, my appreciation of poetry is more like my appreciation for classical music & jazz than my appreciation of most contemporary pop. I look for balance and structure and symmetry and reflection and placement of words, and ideas are mostly secondary. Irish airman is probably one of the most symmetrical poems I know.
Hmmm I've always associated poetry with music.
If say I listened to the melody of most contemporary pop first without being exposed to it through participation in it (e.g. in ktv, where I learned most of my Mando-pop), I'd probably wince at the crudeness of the structure and the very very maudlin melodies. But that same crudeness makes it easy to listen to when I'm just not feeling up to it. And of course they're easy to sing, and I think the ability to participate in music-making is one of the most significant factors in our appreciation of music because the participation gives us an outlet for creative energies and allows us an active (if somewhat unconscious) exploration of the structure and nuances of the music. Which is why I also think that it is very very difficult for someone to fully understand and appreciate music if he doesn't actually play an instrument or sing.
Maybe I'm just a snob.
That said, some classical melodies are horribly icky as well. Yes, Sadie's Gymnopedies. *shudder*
Ok, enough of this stream of consciousness thing.
The similarities:
Irish Airman:
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan's Cross
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor;
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
Rubaiyat:
VII.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
X.
With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.
XI.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
XXVIII.
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
XXIX.
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
XXXVIII.
One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One moment, of the Well of Life to taste--
The Stars are setting, and the Caravan
Starts for the dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!
XXXIX.
How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
XLV.
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
LII.
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to IT for help--for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
And these stanzas, just for the heck of it:
L.
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!
LI.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
LVII.
Oh Thou who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
LVIII.
Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!
LXIII.
None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What? did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
The sentiment expressed in Irish Airman is so dear to my heart that the wanton use of the lines sans understanding of the sentiment feels to me very much like a prostitution of Yeats' poem *ahem looking at you*.
Anyway, I think that sometimes I love poems not for their content, but for the way they sound to my ears. As such, my appreciation of poetry is more like my appreciation for classical music & jazz than my appreciation of most contemporary pop. I look for balance and structure and symmetry and reflection and placement of words, and ideas are mostly secondary. Irish airman is probably one of the most symmetrical poems I know.
Hmmm I've always associated poetry with music.
If say I listened to the melody of most contemporary pop first without being exposed to it through participation in it (e.g. in ktv, where I learned most of my Mando-pop), I'd probably wince at the crudeness of the structure and the very very maudlin melodies. But that same crudeness makes it easy to listen to when I'm just not feeling up to it. And of course they're easy to sing, and I think the ability to participate in music-making is one of the most significant factors in our appreciation of music because the participation gives us an outlet for creative energies and allows us an active (if somewhat unconscious) exploration of the structure and nuances of the music. Which is why I also think that it is very very difficult for someone to fully understand and appreciate music if he doesn't actually play an instrument or sing.
Maybe I'm just a snob.
That said, some classical melodies are horribly icky as well. Yes, Sadie's Gymnopedies. *shudder*
Ok, enough of this stream of consciousness thing.
Monday, August 18, 2008
closing
I'm slightly preoccupied these days, and have actually lost the urge to blog. Actually, gist of this is I won't be blogging here for some time. I might not blog here again. That happens pretty often, I must say, this moving blogs thing. But this lasted quite long for me, so it was a pretty good run. Well, if I start up again, maybe I'll tell the 345,802 people who like reading my nonsense.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Dance
Goodness knows I'm not a dance person, and the best thing about my dance moves is I'm forever forgetting them. (My apologies to anyone who's had to dance on stage with me before. I know it's embarrassing.) But this is probably the only dance routine I've ever fallen in love with -
It's apparently a dance about a hummingbird and a flower, and as corny as that sounds, damn it's good.
It's apparently a dance about a hummingbird and a flower, and as corny as that sounds, damn it's good.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Truth & Reality
This is just one of those things that happens occasionally to me.
I was shopping aimlessly when suddenly I thought to myself 'Yes, truth and reality are separate and distinct.' Then a moment of panic when I couldn't help but think 'But why? And how? Omg do I not know this? How can something be real but not true? How can something be true but not real? What is the point of my life if I don't know this?'
After which I mass sms-ed all the people I thought could give me an answer.
Those who didn't get my sms, you know who you are. And now you even know what I think of you.
Those who did get an sms, to tell the truth, I set the bar pretty low.
Anyway, the moment I sent out my x no. of smses, I suddenly realised that there was something wrong with my question because 'real' and 'truth' relate to different things.
Quite simply, 'real' relates to the existence of something. Doesn't need to be a corporeal existence as long as it's an existence. 'True' relates to statements of fact.
So I can say 'The cat is real.' And then I can say 'That statement (the statement that the cat is real) is true.' Or untrue. 'Real' refers to the cat; the cat is real because it exists. 'True' refers to the statement of fact about the cat (that it exists); the statement is true if the cat is real, and it is untrue if the cat is not real. We can't say that the cat is 'true' or 'not true'.
If I say that a statement is real I mean that it exists. If I say that a statement is true I mean that it accurately tells us what reality is.
Reality & truth are still linked very closely. but in this way:
Can a statement that an object is real be untrue if the object is real (exists)? No.
Can a statement that an object is real be true if the object is not real (does not exist)? No.
True statements reflect reality, but essentially, truth and reality reside in different objects, so my question was itself flawed.
I know, I know. This is totally dumb and there's absolutely no reason why I should be thinking about this, and there're probably many anti-reasons for actually spending a whole blog on this. But I truly had to get it out of my system. Seriously, have you ever had a question haunt you? No? You suck.
The solution seems simple enough to me now. I just hope I don't wake up tomorrow and realise that everything I've said here is flawed and have to think about it all over again.
I was shopping aimlessly when suddenly I thought to myself 'Yes, truth and reality are separate and distinct.' Then a moment of panic when I couldn't help but think 'But why? And how? Omg do I not know this? How can something be real but not true? How can something be true but not real? What is the point of my life if I don't know this?'
After which I mass sms-ed all the people I thought could give me an answer.
Those who didn't get my sms, you know who you are. And now you even know what I think of you.
Those who did get an sms, to tell the truth, I set the bar pretty low.
Anyway, the moment I sent out my x no. of smses, I suddenly realised that there was something wrong with my question because 'real' and 'truth' relate to different things.
Quite simply, 'real' relates to the existence of something. Doesn't need to be a corporeal existence as long as it's an existence. 'True' relates to statements of fact.
So I can say 'The cat is real.' And then I can say 'That statement (the statement that the cat is real) is true.' Or untrue. 'Real' refers to the cat; the cat is real because it exists. 'True' refers to the statement of fact about the cat (that it exists); the statement is true if the cat is real, and it is untrue if the cat is not real. We can't say that the cat is 'true' or 'not true'.
If I say that a statement is real I mean that it exists. If I say that a statement is true I mean that it accurately tells us what reality is.
Reality & truth are still linked very closely. but in this way:
Can a statement that an object is real be untrue if the object is real (exists)? No.
Can a statement that an object is real be true if the object is not real (does not exist)? No.
True statements reflect reality, but essentially, truth and reality reside in different objects, so my question was itself flawed.
I know, I know. This is totally dumb and there's absolutely no reason why I should be thinking about this, and there're probably many anti-reasons for actually spending a whole blog on this. But I truly had to get it out of my system. Seriously, have you ever had a question haunt you? No? You suck.
The solution seems simple enough to me now. I just hope I don't wake up tomorrow and realise that everything I've said here is flawed and have to think about it all over again.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
incoherent post that has something to do with music
I'm waiting for my hair to dry again. It seems I spend most of my life waiting for my hair to dry. I bet if anyone did a study they could tell me I spend a disastrous amount of time, like 38% of my life waiting for my hair to dry.
I spent $52 on 2 CDs with the exact same pieces, but different pianists. A selection of Beethoven's piano sonatas played by Alfred Brendel and Vladimir Ashkenazy. Yes, call me an idiot. I was testing the CDs, trying to decide which to buy, and I was intrigued by both and couldn't possibly listen to the whole CD, so in the end I just bought both. What follows is my very subjective and amateur dissection of what I like/ don't like about one of the pieces, Piano sonata No 8 in C minor, Pathetique. (I've been mainly listening to this piece because I'm trying to play it.)
1st Movement (Grave) - Let's face it, I like drama in my music, with storm clouds gathering and titanic clashes of forces etc. Ashkenazy's opening is dramatic (I think he's a dramatic sort of pianist); he starts with literally a crash of keys followed by soft, tense and tight phrases. Brendel's opening is measured and deliberate. It's not without tension, but it's not as nerve-wracking as Ashkenazy's. In principle I like a more overtly dramatic opening like Ashkenazy's, and when I play I tend to interpret along the lines of Ashkenazy instead of Brendel. Yet strangely enough, I prefer Brendel's version. Perhaps it's because while Ashkenazy is dramatic, there's something about it that makes me feel slightly restless and flustered and unsatisfied, as if Ashkenazy's drama is not as focused and masterful as I'd like it to be. That said, I do wish Brendel's version had a bit more fire and less soiree in it. So yes I like Brendel's version, even if I would not go with his interpretation.
2nd Movement (Adagio Cantabile) - This is the Adagio Cantabile section (meaning slow & stately, & in a singing style respectively). Ok, this movement is a big problem for me because I go for more cantabile and less adagio. It just seems strange that for a section that is supposed to be cantabile/ singable, so many pianists play it so slowly that no one could hold their breath long enough to sing it. In other words, I feel that most tend to go for more adagio and less cantabile, which I think is a pity because it's such a pretty section and playing it too slowly takes the prettiness away. Plus most pianists play the bass too heavily for me. It just ends up feeling like a very 'heavy' section, whereas I prefer it with more movement and more song-like. Then again who am I to argue with these legions of professional pianists? It's just me I tell you. For this section Ashkenazy plays it faster than Brendel, but again, I like Brendel's cleaner sounding playing. Hmmm I'm beginning to think that it's Ashkenazy's piano that I don't like, not his playing. I actually adore Ashkenazy for Rachmaninoff.
3rd Movement (Rondo Allegro) - Ok, again mixed feelings. On one hand I think Brendel captures the shape of the music better, on the other, Ashkenazy's interpretation is closer to my own. The thing about this section is that I feel both play the section slightly too quickly. There are parts of this section that (I think) are dying to be milked for emotion and drama. For me, this is especially so for the theme, and even more so for bars 170-182. I was waiting for either pianist to do that, but I think both played the movement too fast to do much with it. Then again, I play the movement too slowly for an allegro, so maybe I'm just entirely off track.
Hmmm this has been an interesting exercise for me, comparing my interpretation of the piece with the interpretations of two piano superstars. Sometimes I learn a piece AFTER listening to it many many times, and I get very influenced by that recording. For this sonata, I started playing from the score first, so my interpretation is really quite uninfluenced. It's kind of fun to see where my teacher would have rapped me on my head for ignoring the score and tempo instructions entirely (the latter is something I tend to do a lot). I guess what I call 'my interpretation' could as easily (and perhaps more accurately) be called 'my mistake'. Ah well, I guess it also shows me how far I have to grow still. Perhaps in a month, I'd be changing my assessment of the two pianists entirely.
Gosh I'm so incoherent today.
I spent $52 on 2 CDs with the exact same pieces, but different pianists. A selection of Beethoven's piano sonatas played by Alfred Brendel and Vladimir Ashkenazy. Yes, call me an idiot. I was testing the CDs, trying to decide which to buy, and I was intrigued by both and couldn't possibly listen to the whole CD, so in the end I just bought both. What follows is my very subjective and amateur dissection of what I like/ don't like about one of the pieces, Piano sonata No 8 in C minor, Pathetique. (I've been mainly listening to this piece because I'm trying to play it.)
1st Movement (Grave) - Let's face it, I like drama in my music, with storm clouds gathering and titanic clashes of forces etc. Ashkenazy's opening is dramatic (I think he's a dramatic sort of pianist); he starts with literally a crash of keys followed by soft, tense and tight phrases. Brendel's opening is measured and deliberate. It's not without tension, but it's not as nerve-wracking as Ashkenazy's. In principle I like a more overtly dramatic opening like Ashkenazy's, and when I play I tend to interpret along the lines of Ashkenazy instead of Brendel. Yet strangely enough, I prefer Brendel's version. Perhaps it's because while Ashkenazy is dramatic, there's something about it that makes me feel slightly restless and flustered and unsatisfied, as if Ashkenazy's drama is not as focused and masterful as I'd like it to be. That said, I do wish Brendel's version had a bit more fire and less soiree in it. So yes I like Brendel's version, even if I would not go with his interpretation.
2nd Movement (Adagio Cantabile) - This is the Adagio Cantabile section (meaning slow & stately, & in a singing style respectively). Ok, this movement is a big problem for me because I go for more cantabile and less adagio. It just seems strange that for a section that is supposed to be cantabile/ singable, so many pianists play it so slowly that no one could hold their breath long enough to sing it. In other words, I feel that most tend to go for more adagio and less cantabile, which I think is a pity because it's such a pretty section and playing it too slowly takes the prettiness away. Plus most pianists play the bass too heavily for me. It just ends up feeling like a very 'heavy' section, whereas I prefer it with more movement and more song-like. Then again who am I to argue with these legions of professional pianists? It's just me I tell you. For this section Ashkenazy plays it faster than Brendel, but again, I like Brendel's cleaner sounding playing. Hmmm I'm beginning to think that it's Ashkenazy's piano that I don't like, not his playing. I actually adore Ashkenazy for Rachmaninoff.
3rd Movement (Rondo Allegro) - Ok, again mixed feelings. On one hand I think Brendel captures the shape of the music better, on the other, Ashkenazy's interpretation is closer to my own. The thing about this section is that I feel both play the section slightly too quickly. There are parts of this section that (I think) are dying to be milked for emotion and drama. For me, this is especially so for the theme, and even more so for bars 170-182. I was waiting for either pianist to do that, but I think both played the movement too fast to do much with it. Then again, I play the movement too slowly for an allegro, so maybe I'm just entirely off track.
Hmmm this has been an interesting exercise for me, comparing my interpretation of the piece with the interpretations of two piano superstars. Sometimes I learn a piece AFTER listening to it many many times, and I get very influenced by that recording. For this sonata, I started playing from the score first, so my interpretation is really quite uninfluenced. It's kind of fun to see where my teacher would have rapped me on my head for ignoring the score and tempo instructions entirely (the latter is something I tend to do a lot). I guess what I call 'my interpretation' could as easily (and perhaps more accurately) be called 'my mistake'. Ah well, I guess it also shows me how far I have to grow still. Perhaps in a month, I'd be changing my assessment of the two pianists entirely.
Gosh I'm so incoherent today.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
many tragedies
Darling LSB is going off to exotic foreign lands on some probably malevolent mission, undoubtedly history-related. I have decided to pine away into nothing while he troops around my homeland. If you want to know where exactly he is, just follow the cold, cold trail of lame jokes.
I've also had a really controversial haircut. Many eyebrows have been raised, and raised again. (It's like having multiple exclamation points instead of just one!!!!!) My mum has been heard attempting to say 'It's nice, really, it's nice' in between muffled sniggers. My dad has allegedly cried out in despair, 'Why you go and cut china doll hairstyle?' My siblings have unanimously concluded that I'm having a quarter-life mid-life crisis. This apparently means that I'm 40 years old trying to look 14, despite the reality (note: not the same as truth) that I'm 25. LSB has (ah, break my heart) decided to refer to me henceforth as 'xiao mei mei' despite my very obvious exuding of adult sexiness. He has also become strangely resistant to my charms, alas. You see the number of deluded half-blind people in my life? The tearful reproach that I've encountered in all quarters resembles nothing so much as that usually reserved for recalcitrant young ladies with one in the oven and no baker identified as responsible. (I've been reading LSB's book of euphemisms, and have elevated the use of euphemisms to an art.)
I long for dark chocolate with the whole of my reprobate soul. (T_T)
I've also had a really controversial haircut. Many eyebrows have been raised, and raised again. (It's like having multiple exclamation points instead of just one!!!!!) My mum has been heard attempting to say 'It's nice, really, it's nice' in between muffled sniggers. My dad has allegedly cried out in despair, 'Why you go and cut china doll hairstyle?' My siblings have unanimously concluded that I'm having a quarter-life mid-life crisis. This apparently means that I'm 40 years old trying to look 14, despite the reality (note: not the same as truth) that I'm 25. LSB has (ah, break my heart) decided to refer to me henceforth as 'xiao mei mei' despite my very obvious exuding of adult sexiness. He has also become strangely resistant to my charms, alas. You see the number of deluded half-blind people in my life? The tearful reproach that I've encountered in all quarters resembles nothing so much as that usually reserved for recalcitrant young ladies with one in the oven and no baker identified as responsible. (I've been reading LSB's book of euphemisms, and have elevated the use of euphemisms to an art.)
I long for dark chocolate with the whole of my reprobate soul. (T_T)
Saturday, July 12, 2008
New bag!
Yes, I bought a new bag, a mere 3 months after I first laid eyes on my old bag, otherwise known as the Big Blue Monstrosity.
This is because Big Blue Monstrosity has fallen into disrepair, and disrepute, because anything that has Monstrosity in its name just isn't supposed to fall apart that quickly.
Anyhoos, I think you should all know that I spent on this new bag more than I've ever spent on any fashion item.
Sigh I'm learning that it's very hard to tread the line between 'I can buy this' and 'I will buy this'. But I've got to say, so far I'm not doing a bad job of it. It's just that I was very single-mindedly shopping for a bag and trying not to get distracted by the other stuff along the way, and this was the only bag that I really liked!
So I set out to buy a bag, and I got one. That isn't too bad is it? Even though I spent about 3 times more than I did on my previous bag.
Plus I followed the 3 times rule! I 1st saw this bag early June, then I saw it again on Thursday, and finally bought it on Friday! And it was on sale! The amount it was discounted by was more than the price of my previous bag... *argh*
Anyways, the bag is really quite me (or so I like to think), so despite my money woes I'm reasonably happy with it. The Big Blue Monstrosity, on the other hand, was not me at all. It was big, blue, patent and faux snake skin. *shudders* I really don't know why I bought it. From time to time I would discover the Big Blue Monstrosity sitting menacingly on my shoulder, and I would freak out at the alien parasite sucking the life out of me. And then I would have to murmur soothingly to myself, 'No no, it's yours, you bought it, remember? At that awful sale? With all those people pushing? It's ugly but it's still your baby. You can't shriek and throw it at an innocent by-stander. Yes, it's your burden... carry it...'
Argh. Haha I'm such a freak.
Oh you might also like to know that when I got home with new beautiful bag slung proudly on my triumphant shoulder, I was greeted with dire warnings from my mum that it would break in no time, and it's too casual for work, I'll get fired. Thanks mum.
This is because Big Blue Monstrosity has fallen into disrepair, and disrepute, because anything that has Monstrosity in its name just isn't supposed to fall apart that quickly.
Anyhoos, I think you should all know that I spent on this new bag more than I've ever spent on any fashion item.
Sigh I'm learning that it's very hard to tread the line between 'I can buy this' and 'I will buy this'. But I've got to say, so far I'm not doing a bad job of it. It's just that I was very single-mindedly shopping for a bag and trying not to get distracted by the other stuff along the way, and this was the only bag that I really liked!
So I set out to buy a bag, and I got one. That isn't too bad is it? Even though I spent about 3 times more than I did on my previous bag.
Plus I followed the 3 times rule! I 1st saw this bag early June, then I saw it again on Thursday, and finally bought it on Friday! And it was on sale! The amount it was discounted by was more than the price of my previous bag... *argh*
Anyways, the bag is really quite me (or so I like to think), so despite my money woes I'm reasonably happy with it. The Big Blue Monstrosity, on the other hand, was not me at all. It was big, blue, patent and faux snake skin. *shudders* I really don't know why I bought it. From time to time I would discover the Big Blue Monstrosity sitting menacingly on my shoulder, and I would freak out at the alien parasite sucking the life out of me. And then I would have to murmur soothingly to myself, 'No no, it's yours, you bought it, remember? At that awful sale? With all those people pushing? It's ugly but it's still your baby. You can't shriek and throw it at an innocent by-stander. Yes, it's your burden... carry it...'
Argh. Haha I'm such a freak.
Oh you might also like to know that when I got home with new beautiful bag slung proudly on my triumphant shoulder, I was greeted with dire warnings from my mum that it would break in no time, and it's too casual for work, I'll get fired. Thanks mum.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Friday, July 04, 2008
I dieded
You can't possibly not love this. You really can't. Absolutely darling.
*twiddle fingers* This kid is 14. Is it horrible to say that he's totally hot? He looks like an anime character! When he first started dancing I actually couldn't tell whether he's a guy or a gal... the epitome of pretty boy-ness. And who else thought that rain sequence was smokin'? And the confidence! I love a guy who can say 'it was the greatest performance I've ever done' without sounding like an ass. Am I a paedophile? Seriously, am I? I could totally fall in love with him! *kicks LSB out of door*
(Also, am I a geek for recognising the Gene Kelly moves in the dance?)
This is also ultra-cool. They're not as pretty and charismatic as pretty boy, but dammit I think they might be better dancers.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
university
First, I found this post on Infinite thought:
Yes, Singaporean universities, factories producing streams of soon-to-be disaffected labour like the multiple leakages of toxic waste flowing from filthy pipes into filthy ground, in which they languish for another 50 years till they dissipate, unnoticed, and vanish forever, remembered by none, this is you.
And this wonderful link as well:
The same lack of solitude & introspection applies to the poor sots who have to work for a living. Each day passes in miserable apathy, succeeded only by the next identical day till the days of our lives are spent. Your life seeps away while you, unaware, attempt to amass resources so that you can live. Every 9 hour day translates into a 45 hour week, which shortens our lives by 45 hours every week.
Ok, I'm sure you've figured out by now that I've taken two wonderful opinions about the deplorable state of university education, turned them into a diatribe about work, but if you don't get any of that, you only have to take with you this important message: I've had two utterly miserable sucky lousy tragic stressful days of work, really, but at least I can still write a long, meandering sentence that probably lost you by the 15th word.
What universities need is less consultants and middle managers indulging in 'blue skies thinking', the outcome of which is always that universities become more like businesses, and more self-critique. The celebritisation of academia - the guest star-lecturers, the honorary degrees, the bid to get a by-line in a national daily - must stop. Knowledge is anonymous and universal or it is not knowledge at all.
Yes, Singaporean universities, factories producing streams of soon-to-be disaffected labour like the multiple leakages of toxic waste flowing from filthy pipes into filthy ground, in which they languish for another 50 years till they dissipate, unnoticed, and vanish forever, remembered by none, this is you.
And this wonderful link as well:
What happens when busyness and sociability leave no room for solitude? The ability to engage in introspection, I put it to my students that day, is the essential precondition for living an intellectual life, and the essential precondition for introspection is solitude. They took this in for a second, and then one of them said, with a dawning sense of self-awareness, “So are you saying that we’re all just, like, really excellent sheep?” Well, I don’t know. But I do know that the life of the mind is lived one mind at a time: one solitary, skeptical, resistant mind at a time. The best place to cultivate it is not within an educational system whose real purpose is to reproduce the class system.
The same lack of solitude & introspection applies to the poor sots who have to work for a living. Each day passes in miserable apathy, succeeded only by the next identical day till the days of our lives are spent. Your life seeps away while you, unaware, attempt to amass resources so that you can live. Every 9 hour day translates into a 45 hour week, which shortens our lives by 45 hours every week.
Ok, I'm sure you've figured out by now that I've taken two wonderful opinions about the deplorable state of university education, turned them into a diatribe about work, but if you don't get any of that, you only have to take with you this important message: I've had two utterly miserable sucky lousy tragic stressful days of work, really, but at least I can still write a long, meandering sentence that probably lost you by the 15th word.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)