We Like To Think We Can See The End
Ruth remarked that Eric reminds of Shinhao. I have my reservations.
*
Even though we had someone in our midst who actually knows who Mahler was (Weixiang), we concurred we have no idea at all whether the pieces were superbly played and if a note was off. Our ears were that undiscerning and unappreciative. Give me pop anytime.
My eyes were busily scanning the program though. Ruth and I have this theory that you can be totally ignorant about classical music and still write a decent review, so long as you have a literary background. Really. I rolled my eyes upon seeing the familiar gloss that we always employed when engaged in so-called critical analysis and dissertation (beautifully wrought and/or pretentious, interesting, textured phrases that mean nothing mostly)to pass off as intellectual and intelligent discourse.
ie wonderfully lyrical theme; heralds the inexorable build-up of passion which finds its final resolution in the brisk and robust; bitter and anguished; the outrageously exuberant ending, with passing references to the very opening theme, seems to encapsulate the blazing brillance of the noonday sun.
Like, hello, why don't I write a better one for you.
I was also traumatised to read that there are parodies of Wagner's Die Meistersinger, Franz Lehar's The Merry Widow and the famous Lutheran tune Ein' feste Burg, not to mention other sarcastic and ironic references. I'm like ?! How the hell do you parody a piece of music. When is it a parody and not a tribute, and how do you tell; what's the difference musically. And certainly I fail utterly to comprehend how we can have sarcastic and ironic references in music. They are all lost on me! Plus, what's the point and meaning of these references - how do they enrich the music as they do in prose or poem?
Ruth stoically accompanied me till the concert was over and then excused herself. Then there's just the three of us left. You know the rest.
*
New restaurant in Tampines Mall - Phin's - it's okay I guess.
*
If you have a nagging suspicion that I have flagging desire to speak to you or to see you, yes, you are right. I don't think you can make me feel good, or better, and probably irritate me no end even if you mean well. Just be around will do fine. I'm sure this is a phase I'm going through. So. Wait for me to snap out of it. Eventually, I will.
*
Only Ruth is to visit. No others allowed. It's my mum's wish. So. No.
Thank you.
*
What makes me feel okay is the sudden influx of people from my past returning to my present. The connection is the link to a future I can look forward to, I like to think.
*
I hope my mum can die within the week. She's really all loose skin
and skeletal. We have stopped the feeding completely. She's been excreting around the tube area since two days ago. This means her entire body system has been blocked by the cancer. Feed anymore, blocked anymore, and she'll be vomiting shit. So. We like to think we can see the end really soon.
Anyway, she's placed on the drip now. So was Eric's grandma just before she passed away at home. So. Should be about time.
How will it happen? Will I be present to witness? Or, will it happen as it did for him, slipping away when another is sleeping?
Just save me from my relatives and all those kaypoh aunties and neighbours when the time comes.
*
Even though we had someone in our midst who actually knows who Mahler was (Weixiang), we concurred we have no idea at all whether the pieces were superbly played and if a note was off. Our ears were that undiscerning and unappreciative. Give me pop anytime.
My eyes were busily scanning the program though. Ruth and I have this theory that you can be totally ignorant about classical music and still write a decent review, so long as you have a literary background. Really. I rolled my eyes upon seeing the familiar gloss that we always employed when engaged in so-called critical analysis and dissertation (beautifully wrought and/or pretentious, interesting, textured phrases that mean nothing mostly)to pass off as intellectual and intelligent discourse.
ie wonderfully lyrical theme; heralds the inexorable build-up of passion which finds its final resolution in the brisk and robust; bitter and anguished; the outrageously exuberant ending, with passing references to the very opening theme, seems to encapsulate the blazing brillance of the noonday sun.
Like, hello, why don't I write a better one for you.
I was also traumatised to read that there are parodies of Wagner's Die Meistersinger, Franz Lehar's The Merry Widow and the famous Lutheran tune Ein' feste Burg, not to mention other sarcastic and ironic references. I'm like ?! How the hell do you parody a piece of music. When is it a parody and not a tribute, and how do you tell; what's the difference musically. And certainly I fail utterly to comprehend how we can have sarcastic and ironic references in music. They are all lost on me! Plus, what's the point and meaning of these references - how do they enrich the music as they do in prose or poem?
Ruth stoically accompanied me till the concert was over and then excused herself. Then there's just the three of us left. You know the rest.
*
New restaurant in Tampines Mall - Phin's - it's okay I guess.
*
If you have a nagging suspicion that I have flagging desire to speak to you or to see you, yes, you are right. I don't think you can make me feel good, or better, and probably irritate me no end even if you mean well. Just be around will do fine. I'm sure this is a phase I'm going through. So. Wait for me to snap out of it. Eventually, I will.
*
Only Ruth is to visit. No others allowed. It's my mum's wish. So. No.
Thank you.
*
What makes me feel okay is the sudden influx of people from my past returning to my present. The connection is the link to a future I can look forward to, I like to think.
*
I hope my mum can die within the week. She's really all loose skin
and skeletal. We have stopped the feeding completely. She's been excreting around the tube area since two days ago. This means her entire body system has been blocked by the cancer. Feed anymore, blocked anymore, and she'll be vomiting shit. So. We like to think we can see the end really soon.
Anyway, she's placed on the drip now. So was Eric's grandma just before she passed away at home. So. Should be about time.
How will it happen? Will I be present to witness? Or, will it happen as it did for him, slipping away when another is sleeping?
Just save me from my relatives and all those kaypoh aunties and neighbours when the time comes.
1 Comments:
OK. Count me in. As an AD, I have to know crowd control. I know, that's pretty lame.
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