Guest Rhapsody Posted November 8, 2002 Report Posted November 8, 2002 Been having a bad day and just got home to my daily therapy: the piano. And I've decided to write, since I'm not game for Latin homework right now. This'll be a kind of stream of consciousness/free writing; hope y'all are music fans. Therapy in Sonata Form Prelude: The notes streamed from my fingers. The same notes that I tore from the chocolate-painted wooden framework of the piano everyday after school. These notes, sometimes roaring in a frenzy of violence, sometimes like ripples in a serene pool of broken chords. It was my way of unwinding from the daily pressure. Come home, drop backpack "thud" on my bedroom floor, set down violin case, and sprint over to my upright piano (I've been begging Dad for a grand) the color of melted cocoa, the sheen of varnish, covered by dusty manuscripts of scripted music. Little box metronome standing on the corner, addled by time, almost as old as me. Has been clicking about a hundred clicks too fast for three years. Just learn to deal with it; adjust! There's no harm in playing faster. Nimble fingers..."always limber your fingers before playing!" my instructor would shout at lessons, her black labrador barking agreement. Exposition: Lift the cover off by its polished brass knobs, slump into the seat, not even a proper piano bench, and rip into the music. Rip apart the music, like ripping apart the day and this reality. Exhaust myself with these pounding fingers, small hands barely reaching past an octave, yet always stretching until the pain burns in my tendons and my pinkie feels like it will fall off. Poor pinkie; all the calluses collected on my left hand from years of stabbing my fingers onto the wound steel strings of the violin cannot protect my pinkie. Feels dislocated. Development: Start off with the Grieg Concerto, or the Rachmaninoff. Allegro notes, minor keys, big disconcerting intervals: ninths, tenths, and fingers are screaming for release. This chaos, dissonant chords snarling, fingers scrabbling, feet working the squeaky pedals. The bass, this constant rumble of thunder in my head; the treble a flying falsetto, always trilling, always turning, like a lark in elaborate courtship flight, wings flashing in the sun. The music seizes me; I am locked in its hypnotic grip. This movement, this energy ramming into the yielding keys of ivory and ebony. Let the tension in my shoulders slam into this stout instrument, let the frustration sear itself away in this flaming melody. This music rushes like wildfire from the pivotal fingers, up my arms, into my swaying head, and then beyond; it fulminates in the air, like static electricity, alive with its own scintillations. Exhaustion, sweat pearling my forehead, fingers warm from exertion, oblivious to the chill nip of the autumn air flowing from the open window. Time to relax. Flow into Debussy or Beethoven. Oh yes, the Moonlight Sonata. Gently rhythmic, ostinato bass offset by the complementary undulations of the right hand. These gorgeous accidentals ringing like raindrops falling into a puddle reflecting the moon. This dark music that stirs deep longing, I know not for what, it raises the goosebumps on my arms. Tears springing from the sheer beauty, hot trails that streak my face, silent, letting the piano speak more eloquently than I ever could. Pure rapture. Of course, there is that pain. Those huge intervals that must be played, must be heard, beckon my pinkie. Thumb is the anchor; pinkie is the lifeline flung out, hopefully reaching its destination. Is the cast strong enough? The typical run-through. The spritely playfulness of the Debussy: Golliwog's Cakewalk, the bright parlor-room jazz of Joplin: Maple Leaf Rag, the sunshiny saccharine flavor of Mozart: Rondo Alla Turca that I cannot play more than three times through without going crazy from the pasted-on-smile-sweetness. Of course, the usual failed attempt to reconcile with the Chopin Prelude. Cannot bring myself to cherish Chopin's utter depression (as well as fetish for enormous, hand-straining chords) as my friend does. Console myself with another Beethoven, the first page of the Pathetique, all that I've learned of it, lost in the frowning focus of sightreading. Flow into the delicate Bach: Sheep May Safely Graze, ease into rolling Gerou: Prarie Winds. Routine attempt at Copland: Rodeo (yes, the beef commercial song); sadly the hoedown effect doesn't work very well on the piano. Launch into the presto-paced Pieczonka Tarantella before quitting midway through when the notes get too fast, too spaced for my miniature hands, the woe of my maestro's career. Cadenza: End with my favourite: Pachelbel, the jazz version. Absolutely gorgeous. Tears welling at the slow intro, whipping myself into a frenzy with the unrelenting runs of the cadenza section, crouch close to dancing fingers at delicate phrase played high in the treble, and come battering home, ending on fortissimo grandiose chords. All of it woven together in a round, familiar repeated melodies transforming like gossamer-winged butterflies into something hauntingly different. The glories of music. I cannot get enough. Recapitulation: But Mom can. She's had it with my pounding, my wayward striking, afraid I'll either break the keys or my hands. Banished to my room for another endless night of homework. Glaring at mother, wiping sweaty palms on jeans, jerking the smoothly-planed cover back over the warm keys, leaving fingerprints on the lovingly-polished brazen knobs, clapping shut dog-earred volumes of musical text, switching off incandescent lamp, skulking back into the real world. The world of school, world of work. Noisy, noisy, noisy. White noise and incessant jabbering, rustle of paper and scribbling of pencils. My heart still beating in time to the lingering music. My mind running along. My trembling hands, once again subject to numbing cold picking up pencils, paper, homework...and portable CD player. Yes, time for schoolwork, but only with maestro-god Yanni ringing in my ears. ************ Email me at tears_of_rhapsody@yahoo.com *Rhaps* Edited by: Rhapsody at: 11/9/02 12:41:58 pm
Gwaihir Posted November 10, 2002 Report Posted November 10, 2002 I love it. Edited by: gwaihir1 at: 11/10/02 8:51:56 pm
Vlad Posted November 10, 2002 Report Posted November 10, 2002 Not a music fan... But still very nice. Worthy of the pen! (Make sure Wyvern doesn't perform it at a concert) ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "If I had $75 for every time that happened, by the way, it'll cost you $75..." -Dr. Hibbert "Hello, everybody!" -Dr. Nick
Wyvern Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 Melba the Almost-Secretary of Initiates nervously paces back and forth in the Recruiter's Office, mumbeling about how she'd like to strangle Wyvern and practically tearing her hair out when she hears the clock strike 5 P.M... The lizard was over 3 hours late, and not only was an eager applicant awaiting the verdict of his application, but the Pen was also expecting guests from a rich bank firm that Wyv had wanted to get loans from. Melba had even cleaned out the overgrown lizard's office to make it seem more elegant for the guests, but those in charge of the firm were bound to arrive at any minute now... and the absence of their reptilian host would certainly not go unnoticed... Sighing to himself while humming the tune of "The Moonlight Sonata" under his breath, Rhapsody stretches uneasily in his applicant easy chair and wonders just how much longer it will take for the infamous Elder of Initiates to arrive... Suddenly, as if to answer Rhapsody's question, Wyvern frantically bursts through the entrance of the Recruiter's Office wheeling an enormous grand piano with the help of the Seven Elder Dwarves. Without even waving hello to Melba or Rhapsody, Wyvern immediatly scoots the piano directly in front of Rhapsody's chair and hands the confused applicant a tuxedo to wear... Rhapsody looks up at the greedy lizard inquisitively and is about to ask what's going on when Wyvern quickly speaks up: "No time to explain Rhaps- throw the tuxedo on and begin playing an elegant piano piece! We have company arriving in less than a minute, and I need to impress'em with some class. Play a couple of pieces until they leave and you're guaranteed acceptance into the guild!" Rhapsody nods to this, always happy to get a little piano playing done and even more happy at the thought of being accepted. The applicant swiftly sets up a few sheets of music, and then begins playing a soothing classical piece just as the heads of the bank firm begin entering the office... As Wyvern greets the bank firm representatives and escorts them to comfortable office seats, a bank firm member turns to Rhapsody and comments: "Why... that's some excellent piano playing you're doing there lad! Say... would you mind playing a musical request for me? I've always adored Chopin... perhaps you could play us a few of his pieces?" Rhapsody hesitates and frowns at the thought of playing one of Chopin's depressing pieces, and is about to speak up when suddenly, an unexpected event occurs... Silly (the 8th Elder Pen Dwarf and proud orangutan of the Pen) jumps down from a ventilation shaft on the ceiling where he had been hiding and lands directly on the keys of the piano. Not even giving anyone a moment to react, the orangutan then immediatly begins doing a slow dance on the keys of the piano... and from doing so, plays Chopin perfectly! "Well... I must say Wyvern!" exclaims one of the bank representatives "I'm quite impressed!" Wyvern grins a toothy grin and nods... This hadn't been in the overgrown lizard's agenda, but it seemed to be going well... After Silly has finished his playing of Chopin by dancing on the keys, he bows to the audience surrounding him and recieves a standing ovation... The ovation is so great, in fact, that the overjoyed orangutan decides to do an encore. Unfortunatly, Silly chooses a piece done by the lesser known abstract piano player Louey the Lunatic as his encore piece, and due to the chaotic nature of Louey's sheet music, Silly's performance comes off about as pleasant as a howler monkey screeching into a bagpipe... As the representatives of the bank firm depart from Wyvern's office disgusted and clinging to their ears in pain, Rhapsody notices that on one of his music sheets there has been stamped "ACCEPTED". OOC: On a more serious note, Rhapsody, a very good application... certainly ACCEPTED. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I'll send you the password info and such ASAP. ---------------------------------- Almost a Dragon... Elder of Initiates, the Pen is Mightier than the Sword Edited by: Wyvern00 at: 11/12/02 12:20:16 am
Guest Rhapsody Posted November 13, 2002 Report Posted November 13, 2002 Rhapsody leaps to her feet in jubilation. Indeed the dilatory abscence of the mighty Wyvern has rendered her rather anxious. With a rather amused frown, she raises an eyebrow at Wyvern's "Loonlight Sonata", wondering whether Wyvern is satirizing her or her beloved Beethoven. She mutters something about "horrible deaths" under her breath to all Ludwig-haters. "Well what do ya know? Getting to perform extemporaneously before the Elder of Initiates and bank executives after such an extended wait! I don't know whether to be honored or shamed." (Is being outdone by an orangutan a good thing?) In deep regret she draws from her pocket a dog whistle, one of her cruder forms of music, to "distract" the offending orangutan. Rhapsody sighs as she realizes she'll have to research this abstract new composer by the dubious name of "Louey the Lunatic"...she dreads what she'll have to do to please these strange new music fans at the Pen. But gratitude for the former encore still overwhelms her, though she would appreciate a few more roses to pose on a porcelain vase on her stylish new white grand . With consternation she regards the gift tuxedo; what to do with it? In her formal evening attire she always wears when in a ten-mile radius of a fine piano, she hardly needs such a garment. "Ah well! After some tailoring, this silk Armani can serve very well as a piano bench cushion. Playing for hours on end [idoes[/i] make one's arse a tad sore." OOC: Thank you Wyvern for the acception; I hope my gender...uh...difference doesn't affect your view of me. BTW, my name was inspired by the trilogy by Elizabeth Haydon, in which Rhapsody a gifted fey musician/mage realizes a prophecy to save the world. *Rhaps*
Guest Rhapsody Posted November 13, 2002 Report Posted November 13, 2002 Rhapsody leaps to her feet in jubilation. Indeed the dilatory abscence of the mighty Wyvern has rendered her rather anxious. With a rather amused frown, she raises an eyebrow at Wyvern's "Loonlight Sonata", wondering whether Wyvern is satirizing her or her beloved Beethoven. She mutters something about "horrible deaths" under her breath to all Ludwig-haters. "Well what do ya know? Getting to perform extemporaneously before the Elder of Initiates and bank executives after such an extended wait! I don't know whether to be honored or shamed." (Is being outdone by an orangutan a good thing?) In deep regret she draws from her pocket a dog whistle, one of her cruder forms of music, to "distract" the offending orangutan. Rhapsody sighs as she realizes she'll have to research this abstract new composer by the dubious name of "Louey the Lunatic"...she dreads what she'll have to do to please these strange new music fans at the Pen. But gratitude for the former encore still overwhelms her, though she would appreciate a few more roses to pose on a porcelain vase on her stylish new white grand . With consternation she regards the gift tuxedo; what to do with it? "Ah well! After some tailoring, this silk Armani could serve very well as a piano bench cushion. Playing for hours on end does make one's arse a tad sore." OOC: Thank you Wyvern for the acception; I hope my gender...uh...difference doesn't affect your view of me. BTW, my name was inspired by the trilogy by Elizabeth Haydon, in which Rhapsody a gifted fey musician/mage realizes a prophecy to save the world. *Rhaps*
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