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Showing posts from May, 2015

why record during practice? well because, make-ups...

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working with one of my fav peeps today, i think i found a good analogy for practicing with recorder.  with the heavy technical and scientific emphasis on sports performance training, i often wonder why we, musicians, who are also a physical labourers, do not employ technology with similar level of enthusiasm... i understand that there is this love of mysticism in arts. it's bit like wine critique.  though we dont really know how to quantify anything, even the basic idea of how ethanol works to get a human being drunk, we all know someone who can go off on qualitative alcohol evaluation (im guilty as well).  but you know, talking about such things as smells and tastes to describe a particular 'terroir,' one builds a set of descriptions that has not been standardized and i feel that in certain field, they would prefer keeping it that way.  bit like vodka fanatics talking about 'different tastes' of plain vodka, but vodka is supposed to have no ether or organic v

silly musing on sexuality

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sleep. food. sex. the basic instant three-some of gratification. it does not need to cost much and the body, conveniently, is built to enjoy all three. in the blinking lights of the cities, far-reaching technology and this silly anxiousness of 'being in-the-moment,' i think it's safe to say that the sleep is often ignored and envied. food, well, looking at the obesity rate of countries of various economical ranking (it looks as you wont face the obesity issue only if you are too wealthy or too poor; cheap calories and instant accessibility is tying most of the population's thought to its food consumption/process/acquisition) and all the screaming matches about weight/health/style (which are three separate categories and not necessarily interconnected), it still takes the place of the king of pleasure. sex, this makes me laugh a bit.  it is in one's face all the time, they say. i suppose it's always on somewhere in the media (traditional and social), at t

(a creative writing exercise shortie)

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... it was never of my choice, to be shoved into the cold, frightening world. when the light of the day first hit my eyes, i  screamed, for the burst of air.  separated from all things that were familiar, the fear grappled with my consciousness and only thing i could see was blurry, colourless world full of shadows and foreign touches. soon, a single familiar voice soothed my ears.  as my blood pumped through my veins, against the gravity, as my lungs filled with this foreign air full of chemical smells, i cried in mix of tears and mucus.  without much fight, i resorted into a tiredness, the kind of tiredness where deep, darkness overtakes your mind. you dont remember anything. you dont want to remember anything.  nothing is certain. how i longed for moment of peace! next time i gained consciousness, it was another moment in time, impossible to determine to actual speed of the day, i tried to grab onto something, anything... after a sharp cry that shattered the peaceful after

silly thoughts on mothers day

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i am not so sure she wouldve chosen me, if she had the choice.  after all, we are bit different- yeah, some pairs are similar to one another, some differs, but my decisions usually surprise her and her decisions are rarely readily acceptable for me.   we butt heads all the time, it became normal to simply acknowledge rather than cooperate or assimilate our differences in all-issues (THANK THE LOARD FOR THAT). during the years, i have thought of hurting her and i have hurt her, probably more times than i would ever know. and her words have hurt me, likely to the extend we cannot exactly explain. and i have swallowed back the lovely compliments i have for her at numerous occasions, cuz im silly like that. may be she knows about it anyhow, like proper mother-daughter-jedi-mind-trick.  i ought to say bit more, there, i just created a project. ha! we have long way to go together, if average life expectancy is a believable thing, and i am glad she is finally taking care of self