winged monkey business

it was three weeks ago today that banff residency fall 2009 had its final day, 12 12 2009. the last symmetrical day of the first decade of the twenty-first century shoot everyone like hot popped corns, to random directions all over. we all went back to places, pre-destined and mostly familiar. but nevertheless, changed without hope of true reversal. one cannot return back to a particular point of time. memories are imperfect. we all fill it in with wishes, hopes or/and despair. so comes that weird banff-family effect. the passengers of the voyage, especially the long ones, always end up bleeding onto one another, much like the water colour blobs on paper, slowly infusing and changing. no longer such clear edges nor lone isolated colour.

at this point, certain readers may be very tired of this banff rant. i know, ive done it almost a year now. incredibly so. and i still have not ran out of things to say. and just to let you know, it's probably far from being over- it'll always be some part of my psyche. a year in a lifetime should not have this much impact, but one has to realize sometimes the progress of time is not at a constant rate. in fact there are days that are so hazy one cannot distinguish the dates- blurs.

i have a friend who chatted with me today and said: why is that all new year's days seems unchanged? the new years eves been quite a mixture of different events- jazz clubs, at someone's house, with a lover, with family, by oneself, dance clubs, at a top of mountain, sea, whatevers. but you see, new year's day- it consists of hangovers, big eggs and bacon breakfast and desperate hope for the last ibuprofen in what's probably an empty pill container.
i had one answer: you are an alcoholic. event-triggered alcoholic.

ha ha ha. but seriously. that's just one example. everyone must have had some point of their lives where time seems to run at a different speed, faster or slower doesnt really matter. i remember the elementary school days. they are all the same. one superimposed onto another: isolation, finger-pointing, being alone and at same time, bizarre enough, being praised for high-achievement which in turn, pushed me back into the full circle of- isolation. weird eh? being the book-smart fat kid with glasses really does not help one's popularity i tell you. then there's last ten years, the 2000-2010. i went to music faculty as admission theory test fail-out and had to take the bail-out course. and end of that decade, i came out.. alright for now i think, no money lost, no great gain beside sheets of papers, objectively speaking. but a wholly different person. what do you remember of last decade i wonder? *feel free to drop me a feed back on this matter. i wonder if people remember pleasant times more so than unpleasant or vice versa? i think it says much about a fundamental view of a person.

then another banff fragment from this evening. and that's not the only one, as i am surrounded with these ongoing threads, for instance, mr. salamander, mr. bookbomber, mr. guru, ms. rabbit, mr. banffmagic, mr. bearcub, my inboxes and mind is always full of these faint but spider-silk strong fibres. but this particular fragment was about wings. being so easy, being so ready to communicate and share, no particular agenda but to see where it goes. with daily musings being taken care of at the basic level- meal plans, house staff, admin staff, instruments and studio bookings etc., we all dropped the weight of the world.

much like being shoot up to the moon, the gravity- taxation on every life being on earth, even to some extend to the sea creatures, as earth holds things together with incomprehensible but undeniable force, suddenly lifts. like invisible wings, one flew as high as one could- silly, as high as the ceiling would be. so instead of trying to look into one another, everyone's eyes were leveled. short, tall, fat, skinny, dark haired, fair haired, squinting, staring, whatever or however each one was being stuck on the ground, did not matter any longer.

all we had to do was keep our eyes open and look into one another. and there we were. one gazing into other's eyes. veering into the window of the soul. letting a self be reflected off from another. we were no longer looking into simple objects, but into one another, fusing individual worlds into some sort of creative mess. like bread dough or something. and as time passes, it morphs and evolves. and this could have only happen because we were all able to look one another at the same level. so easy. so graceful.

so with tired eyes from much abuse from staring blankly at the franck sonata for hours and days, which i just decided to dump it off today for my audition on thursday ( ! ) in favour of beethoven op. 12 no. 3, thanks to kind mr. salamander (i just couldnt bare to practice it any longer. i dont like it! i shouldve just gone with what i like from the first place. foolish monkey), i peeked into small bits of banff fragments, the wings. wings that will take me to places otherwise unreachable and even worse, unthinkable. undetermined and wonderful. and went as far as to get another temporary moment-off-gravity.


now im winged, perhaps i should really live up to the legendary lack of civility of winged monkeys. now.. where did the wicked witches move to....? i will go.. to the opposite direction. perhaps to find toto the puppy. without my comrades being realistic and sensible, may be i will be able to properly hold the puppy and give it a proper belly rub.

1 comment:

  1. the last ten years. It's a made-up number, it's as useful a segment as nine or eleven; though it's easier to count on the fingers. whatever, long enough for profound change.

    long enough to have a different life altogether but still be the same self. to know more; some of which is disconcerting. strings of minor and major losses, like small bereavements. gains to hang onto.. ah but

    - now gives the option to consider making things not better than they were, or better than they could have been. Just better than they are. cheap paperback self-help maybe, but it neatly foxes the last ten years issue.

    and you got to keep the wings. wicked.